#western style belt buckle

[yourcoffeeguru]

Vintage Silver Metal Western Floral Design Belt Buckle || SWTradePost - eBay

[coolthingsguyslike]

[sharkyswaters]

[unique-goods-where-to-buy]

Retro classic boho Y2K studded punk leather wide belt.

.

Rekino

Unicore

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[nickisnook]

Instagram.com/NickisN00k

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[gloomwitchwrites]

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader - Western AU

Content & Warnings: Wild West AU, cnc, impact play, spanking, boot worship, degradation, humiliation, oral sex (male receiving), breeding undertones

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: For Kinktober 2024

Deputy Marshal John "Soap" MacTavish arrests his favorite outlaw.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist

There's nothing like the thrill of a chase.

The act of getting caught.

A quick shot from a pistol.

The eventual showdown.

You stand in the middle of the dusty dirt road, hands raised in surrender. The entire town, a place with no name, hides behind doors and windows, watching from the shadows as Deputy Marshal John MacTavish approaches you with his pistol raised. A tumbleweed passes in front of you as a gust of wind kicks up loose dirt.

Marshal MacTavish steps closer. "Keep those hands up. Turn around." You start to turn. "Slowly," he barks out, and you slow.

Your own pistol is on the ground, kicked out in front of you. This is your favorite part, when you finally surrender and Marshal MacTavish comes to the rescue.

His hands roughly grab your wrists and yank them down behind your back.

"No need to be so rough, Marshal,” you tease.

"Quiet," he growls, yanking you backward, pushing you off-balance.

The handcuffs go on, and then his hand is on the back of your neck, pushing forward. "Walk."

"Where?" you ask, all innocence, as if you don't know.

His grip tightens and you smile.

Once you're in cuffs, people begin to emerge again. They stare you down but don't say anything. That's fine. They don't like outlaws, and you're the most notorious in the region. But you never steal from the small folk. That's not your style. You're the Robin Hood type, taking from banks and mayors out in the American West who have no business hoarding all that wealth.

"Locking me up again, MacTavish? You know how that goes."

"I said quiet," he growls into your ear.

The two of you enter the town's makeshift jail. It's just a room with two cells. There's only one sheriff and a constable.

"Get out,” snaps MacTavish. “I want to chat with this one. Alone."

They exchange a look but does as he says. Marshal MacTavish pushes you down into a chair.

"Always a pleasure to see you,” you say with a smile.

"Been hunting you all across the West."

Across the West, and from town to town. Sometimes he catches you. Sometimes he doesn’t.

"I'm a slippery one." You wink. "What will it be this time, Marshal? What can I do to shorten that sentence?"

You see the hunger in his eyes. It always starts like this, and you salivate at the thought. Marshal MacTavish takes a step forward, hands slowly undoing the buckle on his belt, opening the front of his trousers.

"Open that mouth and find out," he replies.

You keep your head high and mouth closed.

Marshal MacTavish grasps the back of your neck, forcing you forward. "You want that shorter sentence or not?"

You present your mouth, and then it's full of him, taking every inch. You are immobile, unable to move your body or hands. Marshal MacTavish has complete control here, guiding your head up and down his length in whatever way he desires.

He forces you to take him to the base. A gag comes up from nowhere, but he keeps you in place as your eyes water. Another thrust, and then he spills down your throat. You greedily swallow every drop.

He removes himself from your mouth. "Open," he says, and you show him that you've taken it all.

Marshal MacTavish grunts and steps back. "Up," he commands. "Turn around." You do so, finding yourself slick between the thighs. A jingle, and then the handcuffs are gone. "Face me. Arms out in front."

Presenting your arms to him, he returns the handcuffs. His gaze runs up and down your body. Backing up, he takes a seat on the edge of the sheriff's desk. Propping his feet up on a chair, he tosses a cloth at you.

"Clean my boots." As you go to do so, he shakes his head. "Crawl."

Slowly, you descend, getting down on all fours, the cloth grasped in your fist. It is an awkward shuffle across the dusty floor. Marshal MacTavish remains immobile and silent as you approach him.

His boots are coated in reddish orange dirt. Using the cloth, you remove the worst of it before attempting to settle on the smaller details.

"Thank me."

"Thank you, Marshal."

"Kiss them. Both."

You do so, lingering on each steel-toed tip. Glancing up at him only fuels your own need. Grasping the cuffs, MacTavish hauls you off the floor and bends you over the sheriff's desk.

"You don't have to do this," he says.

"Do what?" you ask innocently.

"Make things difficult," he growls before yanking your pants down to your ankles.

Your bare ass is exposed as is your cunt. His hands grab, squeezing lightly. Anticipation boils up, lingering in the creases of your senses. Marshal MacTavish removes his belt, folding it in on itself.

Running the leather over the curve of your ass, he pauses at your clit, rubbing that tender spot until your slickness dampens the leather.

"Why are you never good until I catch you?"

It's not a question you're supposed to answer. Instead, you lapse into memory. The last time Marshal MacTavish caught up to you, you had robbed four banks and blown-up part of a train. For that, he had kept you tied up, relentlessly breeding you until he accidentally dropped the keys for your cuffs.

It'll be the same this time. It always is.

Marshal MacTavish enjoys this just as much as you do.

The leather comes down harsh, stinging your flesh. Your entire body jerks, but there is nowhere to go but further onto the desk. He repeats until both cheeks sting, and a pleasurable pain floods your system.

"Such a bad girl. Always bring this on yourself."

The leather slides over the tender flesh and then over your dripping cunt. He lightly tap tap taps it, then brings it down on your clit.

You yelp, boots slipping against the wood floor.

Marshal MacTavish fists your hair, and brings the leather down on your clit again. Everything stings. Everything burns, but it's a delicious, prial feeling.

"You injured my deputy," growls MacTavish, swirling the leather against your clit.

"He'll survive," you reply. It earns you another sharp strike of the belt.

"Always heard you had impeccable aim," he chides. "A little to the left and he'd be dead."

"Exactly,” you mutter. “I didn’t miss.”

The leather disappears, and the grip on your hair loosens. His hand roams downward, resting on the back of your neck. At first, it's gentle, and then there's pressure, your cheek squishing against the wood desk.

"You're going to show me how good you can be. Understood?"

When you don't reply, the leather returns. "Answer me."

"I understand, Marshal."

There is a rustling behind you, and then the head of his cock presses against your cunt. He thrusts lightly, giving you just the head and then retreating, rubbing it up and down the length of your sex. He pauses at your clit, giving it attention until your breath comes in small gasps.

"Good," purrs Marshal MacTavish. "Tell me you want it. Beg me."

You lick your lips. "No."

"Oh, love," he tuts. "Try again."

"I won't beg, Johnny."

You hear the inhale. Rarely do you ever address Deputy Marshal John MacTavish as 'Johnny.'

His grip tightens.

MacTavish lifts your head just enough to whisper in your ear. "You've earned yourself a good and thorough breeding, love."

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@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[tommytomatoe]

y’all all the love to erik, truly, but personally the merch is not for me. i’d love to support him but i wouldn’t be caught dead in some of those designs. that being said, here’s some merch ideas that i would spend all my money on if given the chance:

a western style belt buckle with the name collins engraved in it 

vintage style baby tee with the max’s rustic pizza logo on it

oversized black hoodie with the shaw security logo (he already has this, but make the logo smaller and just in the breast pocket area)

necklaces with the boys initials on them and a charm that goes with the character (example: the letter d and a set of angel wings for david and angel or the letter m and a small cat charm for milo and aggro)

rings shaped like porter’s character symbol 

journals with the boys symbols (there’s lots of writers in the community!)

a phone case that says “make it two”

the main issue is subtlety really. i love when merch doesn’t look like merch, but it still is valuable and meaningful to those in the community. i understand the cost of these would probably be too much, but still. i hope for future merch releases, if erik decides to do them, he’ll take this into consideration. 

[carpenterscupid]

farmers daughter!reader x lumberjack!logan

tw: smut, angst, mdni, sexualising, fingering, nwsf

word count: 2k

Logan has always watched you from afar. How you helped your dad around his farm, your short skirts riding up as you picked up the hay, and how your boobs bounced as you jumped up to pat the horse. Your father hired Logan to chop down various trees at your property, but man, he could not help but get distracted as you would come up to all the lumberjacks and feed them the homemade lunch you created.

“Hey boys!” Logan watched as you ran up to them in your tight denim shorts and thin, frilly red and white plaid crop top, the hot summer sun gleaming off your skin. You were much younger than any of the men working, but boy, did you know how to tease them. Some men snickered as you began to pass out sandwiches, but Logan could not help but admire the way your arms had small sweat beads rolling off them.

As you made your way over to Logan, you let a smirk creep up your face. You would never admit it, but the way Logan’s untamed hair danced in the wind and his perfect mouth blew the smoke of his cigar made your knees weak. You assumed the man did not even know who you were, but something about him made the knot in your stomach tighten. “Thanks, sugar,” he drawled out as you passed him a sandwich. Logan noticed as the blush crept up the apples of your already rosy cheeks. He knew how to rile you up in the most subtle ways.

“No problem, Logan.” The built man looks down as you brush your hand along his abs that were hidden beneath his stretched-out wife beater, your hand falling on his gold-plated western-style belt buckle before you quickly remove it. You look back up into his eyes before walking away with the sway of your hips captivating not only Logan but all the men.

Later in the evening, after work, all the men had decided to have a couple of drinks. Logan joined them, despite not being that close to any. He always loved to have a drink or two. The men made their way to the most popular bar in town, the Canadian Lakes bar. As they stepped into the bar that had some old country music playing and red lights setting the mood, Logan’s eyes immediately fell on you. Sitting there with a couple of girls in your most slutty denim micro skirt, lacy white top, cowboy boots, a messy ponytail and a great big golden belt buckle. You had some sugary cherry drink in your hand that made Logan chuckle lightly as the drink would not do anything to him, but it sure as hell has got you tipsy, all bubbly and laughing along with your friends.

Logan could not help but feel his dick twitch in his denim pants as he watched you eat the candy cherry that was on the side of your drink. You were all messy and carefree as you did, so your friends enjoyed the sight as you licked the rim of the cherry, pretending to be all sexy about it.

“Hey mate, are you coming to sit down?” One lumberjack asked, observing as Logan’s eyes deeply penetrated your soul. Logan shook his head, waved his hand at the guy’s face, and stormed over to you. You looked up at him, eyes widening, slightly embarrassed as you stuffed the cherry into your mouth, trying to act casual.

“Hey, princess.” Logan began, sitting down a couple of seats away from you. Both of your friends turned to you, confused, as you tried to swallow the cherry in your mouth. You smiled at him in the most innocent, awkward way as you tried to make contact with him, your face flushing like a tomato as you did so.

“Logan.” you looked geeky at him, casting a smile and trying not to bang your head on the table for how stupid you were acting. Your friends could not help but snicker, grabbing another drink from the bar.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be here, doll?” Logan questioned, playfully making your brow furrow as you looked at him, shaking your head. “I don’t think your daddy would be too happy if he saw his perfect girl all tipsy and dressed like that.” Logan looked you up and down, suddenly making you self-aware, but not in a bad way.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Logan,” you snarl at him, leaning closer to the man, his breath hitching, and you can feel it on your skin, the heat rising within you. Logan let out a light husky chuckle, nodding his head slowly at your response. He couldn’t help his lecherous gaze. His boyish tendencies and moments of self-indulgence are unsurprising to the addict himself. He wanted to see you on your knees and no, not doing any chores around the farm — wet mouth and cross necklace glistening as you look up to the only lord you should know and worship. Him.

“I didn’t tell you to do anything dollface.” Logan’s hands shot up in defence before they made their way to your face, tucking a strand behind your ear. You scoff at his words. However, you cannot help but lean closer to his touch.

“You did!” Logan laughs at how childish you were acting, trying to prove your point, but he needed more from you right now and he was on the verge of not being able to control it. The man had completely blurred out anything around him, your girlfriends who were now too drunk, his coworkers who were all too busy singing along to whatever song that was playing on the speaker did not even notice that you were so intimate.

“You wanna bet on that, baby?” Logan’s voice was low, so only you could hear. You did not move, keeping your gaze on him, his hand reaching into his pocket to put some cash to pay for both of your drinks. You slowly get up from the bar stool and Logan can once again take in your pretty figure. “God damn,” he murmurs out as he rubs his face, taken aback by you.

With a smile, you say, “Logan, you’re making it obvious.” You too walk out of the bar, his hand on an ass as he passes the other boys who only just notice the man leaving, cheering as he does so with his grip on you. In the brisk summer night air, both of you exist. You grab Logan’s arm and pull it around you. “Where did you park?” you question, looking at all the cars, then back up at him, his face smouldering as his hazel eyes stare back into yours.

“Baby, we’re gonna have to take my motorbike.” He humours out, which earns a confused look from you. Truthfully, you’ve never been on a motorbike before, but god riding one sounds sexy. You nodded as he led you to his motorbike. It was big, and he helped you get on before putting on his helmet that he never wore on your head. You look up at him goatishly before the man starts the bike.

You tightly wrap your arms around his storm waist as he speeds into the night, but you can’t help but feel needy as he rides along. You slowly begin to rock your clit back and forth on the seat, attempting to create friction. Logan can feel you from the front of the motorcycle. The rocking makes it hard to focus on the road. The man quickly pulled over a small street that wasn’t even illuminated by any light. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked as he came to a halt, drawing you back to reality.

“I-I just really need you, Logan.” you took off the helmet and looked up at him, “I need you..now.” you felt embarrassed but Logan nodded slowly before hopping off the bike and pushing you forward. You lay back on the motorbike as Logan sat down watching you.

“Wanna be my good little girl?” Logan growled into your ear.

“Yes,” you whined, desperate for more. “Fuck, yes.”

“Want me to fuck your tight little pussy, sugar? Are you just so needy for me? Always teasing me on the farm, you little slut?” At the sound of his words, all of yours simply escaped you and so you could only respond in a series of moans and whines. All sounds that brought Logan immense joy and arousal. “Yeah, thought so.”

His fingers smoothed over your panties, pressing over your slit, feeling the material get soaked through just that one simple touch. But it wasn’t enough. For either you or him. He kept toying with you for a few more minutes, never crossing the material barrier of your underwear, long strokes up and down, pushing in closer, almost as if nothing was there to separate you.

“Please, you cried out, ‘baby, please. I need-”

“What do you need, sweetheart? C’mon, use your words?”

“Need your fingers. Please.”

“Good girl,” he kissed your forehead, pulled the band of your underwear to make you whine so prettily as he loved, and brung the panties down your legs, his legs planted firmly on the ground to keep the motorbike steady.

Another filthy moan left you as his fingers slowly filled you up. The expletives rolled off your tongue in the rhythm of his thrusts. He kept a steady pace, and one that left you shaking against him. So much so that soon enough, he had to hold you by the arm, pinning you down even harder onto the motorbike. One leg propped up high for even easier access to his favourite part of you.

“Such a good slut, taking anything I give you anywhere.” His voice could practically get you over the edge alone, and he knew that well enough on his own, and so he kept talking. “Can’t wait to get my hard cock in you, Princess. Gonna fill you up so well. Fuck. Just you wait—”

“No, please,” you cried out.

“What’s that? The Farmer’s daughter can’t wait a few more minutes for her cock?” He kissed your neck so ferociously it was more like his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, and the sensation left shivers down your whole body. He raised his mouth to speak directly into your ear.

“So fucking desperate. Wonder what your daddy would think about this. Just know you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” He punctuated the question with one final deep thrust of his large fingers. “You gonna cum?”

“Yes.” was all you managed to say. Then his lips clashed with yours in another of your sloppy kisses. Your hands found themselves in his hair and you already felt yourself falling into bliss, and that was all without even the feeling of his length finally pushing deep into you. If only you could scream the pleasure you felt. But Logan kept you shut, not wanting to alarm anyone around, so instead you dug your nails into his shoulder. That only got Logan more riled up as his thrust grew in pace. He hit all your right spots evenly, hard and deep. If he kept going like that, and you were sure he would, you didn’t know just how much longer you would last.

​​”Fuck, I’m gonna-” your voice was breathy and out of focus, as all that was on your mind was him inside you.

“Yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, come for me. Come all over my cock.” He growled the words with the same intensity and desperation for release you felt. You let go instantly, sighing in relief as you saw stars. You pushed back on his motorbike, relaxing. “Good girl,” Logan sighs, planting a kiss on your forehead.

[lovinglylibelle]

—𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐩 { pt. 3 }

pt1 || pt2 || pt4

masterlist || navigation

moodboards will be posted after the series<3

✧. GOJO SATORU

Okay we all know that he is a diva but actually he doesn't try to be. I know its shocking but somehow whatever he wears, he serves.

He knows he looks good and whats worse is that he knows how to make himself look even better. it just comes to him naturally.

firmly believes that the reason Megumi is able to dress well is because of his influence (he is so obsessed with himself istg)

Has a very very diverse style, wears whatever looks good on him.

Usually its a button up with trousers and a belt to accentuate his thin waist. Such a show off

Likes the color: white, beige, light purplish-blue, gray and black. Thinks they looks the most classy and decent out of all. i agree with him.

Also wears colours like olive green, dusty rose etc but very rarely.

Has a lot of sunglasses obviously, circle ones, oval ones and etc etc. Got them in various colors too, matches them according to his outfit or just wears his signature black round glasses.

WILL ALWAYS have the top two buttons undone showing his cleavage, and his sleeves rolled up to show his forearm muscles. Such a *****

Wears silver accessories cause they compliment his skin tone. Mainly wears a watch just for the vibes. sometimes wears rings too, says it brings attention to his humongous hands.

Sometimes wears normal shirts, when he is going for something more casual (its very rare because he LOVES to be overdressed for every occassion,)

He is very extra and even in simple outfits, he looks extra.

In winters, he wears coats, trench coats, normal coats whatever.

AND HIGHNECKS OMGGGGGGGG

OH AND, he actually quite likes wearing coats. Oversized coats with trousers and plain tees is something he loves but won't admit it cause he doesn't want to clash with NANAMI out of everyone in the world.

✧. GETO SUGURU

Resident Badboy™

Bro loves Black and only black, will not be caught dead with any other color in existence except for maybe charcoal or gray or a different shade of black.

Has a very weird sense of style honestly but manages to pull it off, pairs traditional outfits with western stuff somehow.

You know those bosozoku style of clothes that the toman gang wore, he has a lot of pants that look like that. Only the pants.

Wears button up shirts, black obviously along with that and other bottoms that he has.

He wears leather jackets. Again, a signature bad boy thing. He has a lot of different styles of those, some have multiple zippers, some have a lot of buckles, some are just plain and some have patches etc etc.

Has an emo typa vibe going, i mean he is sorta emo so

Would wear tattoo sleeves when he is wearing short sleeves or sleeveless things.

OMG WAIT, HE LOVESSSSSS to wear black tanktops.His muscles look so delicious in those and with that sexy manbun of his KTKSJTIDI AAA

Has a lot of puffer jackets and crew necks for winter.

OKAY SO HE ALSO WEARS THOSE LEATHER GLOVES that bikers wear. ones without the fingers. why the fuck do i keep making his hotter.

CHAINS. yes he wears a lotttttt of chains, some are religious totems, some are things that his daughters gave him. Dont be surprised if you find a cute little pink bow necklace hanging in the middle of silver chains lmao.

Wears those oversized cargos, yk the baggy jeans (nct). He also wears skinny jeans sometimes and somehow pulls them off. They are the bad type of skinny jeans,l thankfully.

Also has trousers for formal occassions or when he is taking his daughter out for dinner in restaurants.

taglist 🏷️: send an ask to be added.

[sampsdoessims]

THE jeans for your sims!

i feel like it's hard to find good jeans, irl and on sims 4. so if you are picky like i am, this post is for you! i compiled some of my favorite jeans (by amazing cc creators) for your downloading pleasure.

HEADS UP: i have a preference towards the look of maxis match, so that is what most of my posts will be about!

idk about you simmers, but i LOVE a baggy jean... although i can never seem to pull them off. not a problem for my sims though! @jellymoo's perfect jojo jeans look amazing on! andddd they come in pink as well! that's definitely the way to my heart! if you are looking for something a bit less alternative, their wide jeans are also super cute!

y2k will always be in, so don't sleep on @greenllamas's iconic icy set! the jeans in the collection are unique but versatile enough that you could wear with most tops imo. and they are low waisted! did i mention they are low waisted??? (speaking of low waisted, check out the jeans in their mimosa collection as well!)

save a horse, dress a cowgirl! (or something clever like that.) either way, the howdy set by @arethabee has incredible items, including the cassidy jeans. if you are into the western look, this one is for you!

here's something different: @missvalentine142's mackenzie pants from the ms jackson collection have a built-in belt with a heart buckle, and come in 24 SHADES FOLKS. for you simmers who are not scared to try something new!

for my coquette girlies, here is @luxysims's bell bottom jeans - coquette edition. these work for any aesthetic though! specially if you are into the 70s vibes!

finally, if you are a practical girly, here are some cool cargo style jeans: the blue blood jeans by @trillyke. so many cute shades (30 to be exact), and there's a low-waisted and high-waisted version!

NOTE: these are all working in my game right now!

NOTE p2: lmk your favorites in the comments! also, if you are a cc creator and would like me to check out your cc, hmu! i'd love to spotlight smaller creators!

TOODLES! xoxo

[syoddeye]

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

because i can't be Normal, here are 11 mini moodboards + blurbs lmao. thank you canva. some of the photos are low res, that's my b.

disclaimer: this is clearly for fun. i don't want to hear about how wrong i am lol.

Price: Maybe this is because the strong visuals from Ursa Major by @the-californicationist is rotting my brain (affectionate), but my favorite dude likes workwear and high quality clothing. I don't think he prioritizes fashion, but at the same time, he puts on Hard Pants whenever he leaves the house because you never know who he might meet! (You. At the store. Where he gets that pesky can of whatever off the top shelf for you.) Need to commission an artist to draw him as Tom Selleck.

Rudy: Inspired by Bayardo. Rudy likes moto style, worn-in/lived-in clothing, and cleans up real nice. I could see him gravitating more color and knit button downs/polo shirts. I didn't include much western/cowboy stuff, but I imagine Alejandro's aesthetic rubbing off on Rudy since they've known each other for decades.

Ghost: To no one's surprise, his favorite color is black. But, he wouldn't wear clothes that draw even more attention. He's already a big fella, I just don't see him trying to stand out on purpose. He favors darker neutrals, layers, regular cloth or paper face masks, and workwear. Pretty plain aesthetic. Just a Guy™.

Kate: "Sy, that's a lot of Gillian Anderson." AND? What about it? Anyway, I think younger!Kate saw If These Walls Could Talk 2 and emulated Amy's (Chloë Sevigny) style for a number of years. I think with her work and maturation of style, her style is more utilitarian/streamlined, but when she dresses up, ooh baby. Some of Maya Erskine's outfits in the new Mr. and Mrs. Smith show also scream Kate to me. Obviously we have a vest outfit here, because if there is one thing lesbians love, it's utility. /jk

Nik: Similar to Price in that he values clothes that can hold up under normal-to-heavy use. Every outfit does have to highlight a chain. My guy is probably sitting on a small mountain of money, too, but the clothes he picks for himself are unlabeled.

Ale: He's a smooth operator 🎶 No, but to me he's like Soap - Alejandro knows he's good-looking. He has the range and the confidence to pull off most anything. I think similar to Rudy, I imagine him leaning more towards moto aesthetics, with more cowboy/western vibes. Not afraid of color. Lest we forget, he owns a ranch, so throw in workwear, too. Tucked in shirts, belt buckles. Another minor point of inspo is Donald Glover from Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Gaz: It's coincidence two photos contains glasses BUT I think in my dream world, Gaz dresses the way Elliot Knight's stylist dresses him. Which is to say wonderfully. Gaz tends toward neutrals, pieces that are easy to layer, and can fit into more than one look. He's probably somewhat up on fashion and style, not obsessed, but aware of what he looks good in. Not afraid to chat up a sales associate for help.

Soap: He knows he's nice to look at. He knows his arms are drool-worthy. The moment the weather's pleasant enough, he's sleeveless. I also know he probably dgaf about fashion but let's feed my delusions. Streetwear, athleisure - He's got to be able to move freely, feel comfortable, and show off his build.

Farah: Ignore the bags lol. If anything, she's carrying something crossbody and functional. Anyway, Farah's a leader and has been from too young of an age. I think this translates to how she carries herself and what she wears, yeah? I think she aligns with Soap+Gaz+Ale in the Can Wear Anything group. My soft as fuck HC is that Price gave her a few band shirts at some point in time.

Alex: Generally aware of what he looks good in. He relies on his more fashion inclined friends and loved ones to send him ideas or buy him clothes outright because he does not go out of his way to shop. He constantly wears that a single jacket he got One compliment on it six years ago. Like Ghost, he's Just a Guy™. A very handsome one.

Valeria: She's a business woman, right? 👀 Valeria's aesthetic is a mixture of all black everything/glam/utilitarian but make it fashion. In my deepest of dreams, her fashion style is more fluid, and she eats up everything she wears. Again, kind of falling into the idea that confidence makes any style possible on her.

character ask game questions here!

[beansprean]

Art for the Exchangeapalooza gift I got from dear @yougoadedme!!! Ranch N' Rider Weekly: Special Edition - please go read it it's so good

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Marwa dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, and a pink flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. She has one boot up on the bottom slat of a wooden fence and one hand braced on the top slat, the other in her hip as she grins into the distance. The background behind her is a rolling green field and rows of pine trees in watercolor. She is wearing a gold wedding band and diamond engagement ring.

2. Waist up of the Djinn, human, on a vague purple background, dressed in a flannel version of his salmon shirt tucked into his usual brown trousers. He is smiling indulgently, looking up over his glasses and holding up a bottle of margarita mix in one hand and tequila in the other. The margarita mix reads "EZ Margs - Delicious Margaritas at the snap of your fingers." The Djinn says, "I live to serve...liquor." He is also wearing a gold wedding band.

3. Guillermo sitting at a coffee table on a vague real background. There are a few black playing cards with white writing sitting on the table and Guillermo is on the side closest to the viewer, topless, and turned around to face the viewer with a sour expression. His face is flushed red and sweating, eyes darting away from the image before him. The image before him is this: human Nandor, having leaped fully onto the table in a crouched position in nothing but a white jock strap with pink hearts, flexing both of his arms with a triumphant grin and crowing, "I win!!"

4. Close up of human Colin Robinson, aged about 7 or 8, wearing a green flannel open over a red tee shirt. He is grinning excitedly, eyes shining, as he places a cowboy hat with a beaded turquoise band over his head. No less than five speech bubbles full of unintelligible babbling surround him.

5a. Nandor and Guillermo stand in a paddock, the former wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up tucked into jeans with a silver horse belt buckle and the latter wearing a blue embroidered western shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a light brown cowboy hat. Nandor has his back to Guillermo's front and a leather bridle looped around his neck and shoulders. He holds the bit in his hands, but the ear strap is pressing directly into his throat. Behind him, Guillermo is holding the reins in both fists and is pulling them taut so Nandor is forced to lean back into him. Nandor's face is flushed, expression dazed and struggling to be stern but clearly not altogether displeased with the situation. He mumbles, "Guillermo, what...are you doing?" Guillermo's eyes are wide and wild, as if he isn't fully in control of his actions, face red and sweating profusely. 5b. Behind them, Colin, wearing a red cowboy hat with a strap and a long sleeved yellow shirt under an orange tee shirt that says 'Lego my Eggo' with a picture of a Lego waffle, stares at his uncles from atop a horse. The horse, Glitterfoot, is gray with a lighter mane and darker nose and ears, a white blaze down his face. He is properly tacked up western style, the reins in Colin's loose hands. Glitterfoot is also staring at the other two men, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he and Colin await instructions.

6. Guillermo and Derek sit across from each other at a table in a bar. A neon sign on the wall says "Sassy Cat Bar & Grill & Tack & Feed & Haberdashery. Mon-Sat 9am-12pm 2pm-2am" Guillermo, wearing an untucked red-violet flannel and jeans, is sitting with his back to the viewer. The back of his wooden chair has a burnt-on design of a rearing horse with a cat on its back, wearing spurred boots and waving a cowboy hat in the air. The Guide, human, leans one hip on their table and stares at Guillermo with a flirtatious grin, pen and notepad poised and awaiting their order. She is wearing a sparkly black beret, hoop earrings, a black and purple flannel shirt mostly unbuttoned tucked into a high waisted jean skirt, a gold horse belt buckle, and sparkly black thigh high cowboy boots. Her hair is curled and teased out big and poofy. Human Derek, sitting across from Guillermo in a brick red Henley and jeans, leans his crossed arms on the table and grins expectantly at Guillermo, waiting for him to react. Guillermo's shoulders are hunched up defensively and he has his face half turned away from the Guide toward the viewer, flushed and sweating nervously. /End ID

[klm-zoflorr]

Ummm hello god hey helloooooo

Back on my bullshit as in i started thinking about Stranger Danger Jon. Yeah, the Web guy. More particularly design notes.

So you know how Annabelle (the podcast's main Web Person basically. The one this Jon replaces in the story) wears victorian clothing? Like, looks kind of anachronistic. Stands out.

Well I thought why couldn't Jon get kind of the same treatment. So now he dresses like a cowboy.

Very baggy dark blue jeans, dirty and damaged in places. I think the pockets are darker? Maybe made out of leather?

A thick engraved leather belt with a round, golden buckle.

Cowboy boots! (Brown)

A taupe waistcoat, western bartender style. Pretty tight fitting. Black buttons. Pocket square. Maybe there's lighter brown decorative lines on some of them.

Underneath that, just a white shirt. Sometimes he only wears the shirt. Most of the time he wears the sleeves long, but when he doesn't he has clips to keep them folded (fancy)

He keeps the shirt open, with the collar unfolded and straight up. Yeah, like a rockstar. You can see a bit of his chest hair, which is short but dark. It's hot.

Depending, he either wears a short tie over the waistcoat (purple perhaps? A light purple? Or red?) a bowtie (black and red) or those cowboys red hankerchiefs

I think he has some cedarwood perfume. Something strong and woody. Maybe he smells like tobacco too, but not sure. It's not really a thing of spider people themselves to smoke, is it? I still need to think on that

He wears no jewelry at all. Okay, maybe a golden chain (ankle chain? That'd be interesting) but thats it

And of course... The cowboy hat.

Web! Jon is pernicious and intelligent, but isn't afraid to come off as a little more self-assured at times.

Anyways, yup. These were just a random assortment of thoughts i had while designing him. Thought id share because the mental image i'm giving myself of him is hot as fuck and I am in love.

Goodbye for now

[zizz-asdf-re-r-o-u]

M/s relationships- real life vs Garu/Karu & Eiden

Alright buckle up fellow 18+ adults, I have a couple other meta and analysis-thingies up my sleeves but wanted to write about this first.

Disclaimer: I have not watched or read every event, etc etc the usual, if I have lore & information wrong, please lemme know. Also a good chunk of this is speaking of my personal BDSM experience and there is no One Twue Way so it is entirely possible this will differ from your BDSM experience.

It is natural that in Nu Carnival, a harem game, some ships will be deemed as more popular or more romantic. And some ships will be viewed as less. In some social circles, Garu/Karu/Eiden is often viewed as one of the "less romantic" relationships. I want to question this status quo though, due to my personal experience in the BDSM community.

This will be broken down in a couple things: my qualifications, how M/s works in my personal experience, a quick tangent about petplay in my personal experience, and what is going on with Garu/Karu/Eiden.

Qualifications:

I have been in my local kink community for a long time. I graduated from a leather education program, earned my boots & belt, participated in a BDSM mentorship program, taught a class, performed at multiple venues, and was in multiple porn shoots. So I think i have some experience. I'm not an expert in anything, but I do think I'm in intermediate or advanced level for some kinks that I specialize in. While I am not in a "romantic" relationship, I am in a kink family with my leather education group and most of us have all played with each other.

Most of what I will be talking about, though, is from personal experience of my own play and my friends/play partners, rather than what you'll find on wikipedia. So it is entirely possible, that my analysis will not match your kink experience or the kink experience of an instructor you watched online. It certainly won't match BL or fanfics. And that is ok! There is no One Twue Way when it comes to BDSM!

One last disclaimer: I am allosexual aromantic, so sometimes I really can't grasp the concept of romance so maybe I'm misunderstanding some things.

So about this M/s relationship thing:

On Fetlife and other online communities, there's a LOT of relationships styles and roles. Like a lot a lot a lot. It goes signficantly beyond "top, bottom, switch". On Fetlife/collarme/etc, though, there are certain "perceived" relationship commitment levels. If you have ever heard of "24/7 M/s relationship". That is what I'm talking about. Online and in most western erotica, Master/slave relationships are kind of viewed as the holy grail, ultimate, most dedicated BDSM relationship you have because a slave is offering their entire being and self to their Master. It goes far and beyond romance and marriage. It's viewed as super extra soul life partner relationship.

In real life, I have done M/s roleplay scenes and I do know many friends who are in actual M/s relationships. I'll be honest, of the people I know in real life, it never goes to that deep of a level for daily life and I don't know anyone who is in an actual 24/7 M/s relationship. Many slaves do wear collars as a sign of their commitment though. There are also many pro femdom "M/s" relationships, where a pro femdom will have a BUNCH of slaves serving them and their household. And sometimes relationships will overlap at the same time! You can be a slave and a puppy to 1 partner at the same time, while also being a dom or a master to someone else! Or to the same person if you're both switches!

And lastly, I also know many people who have broken off M/s relationships, so they are not as "life partner" permanent as you see them in media.

Now what does this have to do with Garu/Karu/Eiden?

Well, Garu calls Eiden Master and Karu calls Eiden slave. In Forgotten Fruit, specifically, Garu asks Eiden out a second time to be his commander, his Master. In Desert of Dusk, at one point Eiden also tells Garu that some people won't understand the type of relationship they have, which indicates its not a normal "boyfriends" relationship. Oh and this whole time, Karu has been attempting to treat Eiden as his slave, although that is clearly a comedic thing, rather than an actual M/s relationship.

And many Nu Carnival players view Garu/Karu/Eiden as less romantic. But as you can see from my personal experience, M/s relationships are viewed as The Ultimate BDSM Romantic Relationship. Can you see the disconnect there now? I would like to bring this perspective into the conversation about relationships in NU Carnival because I haven't seen this brought up yet.

I'm not saying that Garu/Karu/Eiden is More RomanticTM because they have a M/s relationship. I'm just saying that if you look at their relationship with a difference perspective, it can be perceived as just as RomanticTM as the others, or more.

And what about petplay?

In real life, petplay involves the partners getting into their preferred animal headspace and have a handler/owner. I have no idea if there's any expert research about this, but I do personally know several friends that are in a M/s relationships, but are also pet players in the same relationship. I have also done petplay scenes as both a handler and a cat.

When I personally see Eiden/Garu, they act more like a petplay relationship to me, than a M/s relationship. Garu acts like a puppy, Eiden acts like his owner, head pats, playing fetch, dog toys, rewards for good behavior, Garu literally looks like a puppy player, etc. Eiden as a handler/owner doesn't control Garu the way a Master would "command" a slave and while Garu definitely helps Eiden a lot, he doesn't "serve" Eiden the way a slave would. In fact, Eiden has actually stated he would be uncomfortable with Garu mindlessly obeying him (just rewatch chapter 7 or even Desert of Dusk). (Note that it gets real complex in M/s dynamics- a slave offering service is not mindlessly obeying). And I don't know what Eiden/Karu would be, but whatever it is, its kinda dysfunctional and doesn't fit into any clean boxes.

Even if the average vanilla player doesn't connect Garu/Karu/Eiden with petplay, I think those aspects of a petplay relationship is why people perceive them as "less romantic". Petplay often isn't perceived as a ~holy grail ultimate romantic BDSM relationship~ the same way M/s is. It's often viewed as just a kinky relationship/scene. Even though in my real life, I've seen the overlap. I'm also adding this again, to make the conversation even more complicated and nuanced.

In summary, Garu/Eiden and Karu/Eiden label themselves as a M/s relationship. In real life BDSM, M/s relationships are perceived as really freakin' committed romanticTM. BUT I can also see Garu/Eiden being perceived as a petplay couple, which real life people don't see as RomanticTM. And that is probably why it carries into the fandom when they don't perceive Garu/Karu/Eiden as romantic as the others.

And this whole conversation also isn't helpful, because goddammit this is a beautiful harem game and none of the guys are competing for Eiden's attention and in real life I know polycules that can get in 10+ partners ok! I have personally played with partners in said polycules!

And then Karu/Eiden is just complicated.

So I just wanted to give my 2 cents. Thoughts?

[ladysouthpaw1213]

My Bell outline currently(Backstory and Bio still being work on)

Bikosi’s Neka c.c used for visual reference Name: Natalia Novikov(later Alder)

Nicknames: Bell, Kid, Hell’s Belles

Birthday: September 22, 1950

Place of Birth: Soviet Union

Family: Svetlana Novikov(Deceased), Father Unknown

Love Interest: Russell Alder

Children: Andrei and Svetlana”Lana”Alder( Born on December 17, 1981)

Hair Color: Dirty Blond

Eye Color: Brown

Skin Color: Pale

Distinguishing Marks: Multiple Scars including a knife scar on right side of face and two bullet wound scars in chest area close together

Height: 5’6

Weight: 127 Ibs

Casual Outfit in 1981: Blue, grey and white tartan western styled button up, white under shirt, dark blue Wrangler jeans with black belt and sliver belt buckle, black calf length dress boots, dark grey leather jacket, black leather fingerless gloves, sliver stud earrings, sliver watch, black pistol hoister on right leg

Tactical Outfit in 1981: Black sweater, grey green tactical military vest, grey green military cargo pants, black combat boots, black leather fingerless gloves, grey green military hat

Sleepwear: Oversized shirt(Usually one of Russell’s), and shorts/underwear

Psychological Traits: Methodical and Reliable

Skill: Marksman and Deciphering

Dominant Hand: Left

Prefer Weapons: Sniper Rifle and Pistol

Accent: A mixture of American and Russian after the events of Cold War. Russian becomes more pronounced when angry or furious

Face Claims: Nastassja Kinski and Brigita Hausnerova