#lots of wild posting lately it seems so have more

[mariaantonnietta]

A few takes i have on how i see Jet (interpretation and head canons) here they are:

A lot of peple take on Jet don't take into account how warped his perception of what a kid should do/live is. He is a product of the war. When He lost his home at 8 years old He made his purpose to fight against the fire nation. He had a purpose.

He survived for years in a forest, fighting all around the area.

He relates to the children he finds suffered the same as him, and wants to help them but also thinks they have the same purpose. Or are lost like he was and need help, but after giving a hand and a talk would share the same purpose.

Of course he believes that. They hate the fire nation for killing their home/family/being there, there's plenty of reasons to hate them.

But a lot of kids probably just want a home. Care. They of course belief in figthing the fire nation and share the same purpose, but is it's because Jet gave them that purpose amd cared, he shared something to believe and focus they anger and says is right, and they believe in Jet. It is not born of themselves, of the same hatred. (Some might share the hatred, but even then, in the show all of them were driven more by their camaderie and following Jet more than they own hatred.)

One can say that Jet giving them a purpose is freeing them a little, because Jet's purpose drives him to live, the other children can see beyond that. but they wouldn't have this community without someone with such a set ideology and charisma to help them and unite them. They follow him, they care about each other and he cares for them.

Of course they are blind to each other, Jet cares genuinely for all the freedom figthers, he loves them, he also genuinely believes they would without a doubt put the mission above themselves and fight to the death if necessary, it is what he would do and they share the same purpose, so it would be what they want too.

(Between his purpose and the freedom figthers I think he would the freedom figthers, but for Jet like, as long as freedom figthers live the mission lives, they live for the mission, so is never a contradiction in his mind)

The other freedom figthers think of Jet as their leader and think themselves more of a community. They believe in fighting , but more because they believe in Jet , they care more about their home.

And Jet does care and it is his home too! But he made a home to fight because he lost his own and the others fight because it is their home Jet gave them after they lost their own.

And this is not only instance, Jet considers the freedom fighters his friends, but also fellow soldiers, because he considers himself a soldier since eight. He's too young and alone too see that as bad. All of them are.

I do think about The Duke's time when Jet's starts too see with the age difference that even though is logical in his mind for Duke to be a soldier as he was, someone that younger than him shouldn't be fighting and have a better childhood, but also just making things worse because he thinks it as doubting himself because he relates to the duke and surely little him would be so apalled at being pitied because his age, he's is as able as any adult, but the duke is little.

And there's a contradiction about thinking adults as bad and untrustworthy and you growing up enough to feel yourself at least a older brother figure (or in this case being looked up as ) and still relating too much to the kid to be so.

He sees a fellow to himself and somentimes sees someone too young to fight. But he was able and so is everyone else, so is he doubting his cause and their braveness just because the're young, so was he!!

And also thinking how even if its the fire nation fault he hasn't advanced, gaining more idea, an idea only of how big the scale really is and how little they are in the all and even the Village they undermine is gaining back his foot.

He needs change and action.

What I'm saying is that Jet's is very nuanced. He was wrong, but he did do a lot of good and gave a lot of kids a home and really his mentality is the product of the cards he was dealt with.

Even then, when he manipulaated katara ( it was the opportinity of a lifetime for him at the time, and it shows he knows this is too drastic and other people might dont agree but I think only seeing betrayal in the faces of the people he considered had the same goal made him snap and realize how he was thinking was wrong and he went too far) and all the responses of pipsqueal anger and longshit and smellbee staying with him and the rest leaving are all shows of the big bond all of them shared and how ot impacted them all.

And in the face of that, he tries to start again a be a better person, and he dies before he can, but he does it being his own person and protecting his friends. He had the strenght to do it.

Idk, wanted to share my perspective.been a while since i watched the series and some things are my headcanons (the duke thing, we didnt see enough of it) but wanted to share i guess.

[schoolhater]

I met this nice girl through my college friend. She's my friend's childhood best friend and I had heard so much about her so I was really excited to finally meet her. The three of us hung out at a stupid school-sponsored event into the late hours of the night, drinking soda and eating pizza and getting to know each other. At the end of it, she entered into a raffle and ended up winning free tickets to Disneyland. We celebrated and parted ways. It was the highlight of that semester.

A few months later, Israel began dropping bombs on her family home. I watched from afar as her entire life fell apart and her family was displaced and killed. Every time I asked how she was doing, she was doing bad.

In Palestine, as in a lot of places in the world, it is shameful to ask for money. A little bit after the war began, I passed a message along to her family offering to help raise funds for their evacuation, but they declined saying that they didn't want pity from anyone. Now it seems like they're running out of options.

My friend has already lost so much so please spare her the additional indignity of asking for help and not receiving it. I can't imagine how soul crushing it would be to do something you believe to be shameful and for your effort to go to waste.

Their goal is only $5000 and they've already raised ~$820, I don't see why we can't raise the full amount within the next week.

Verified by the fact that this is literally my IRL. DM me if u wanna see her Instagram or other contact info proving she's real. Tumblr is a rather unsafe place for Palestinians so I'd rather not publicize all her personal info but I've been pretty careful with the fundraisers I boost on this blog so I hope you can trust me here.

EDIT 08/24/24:

Thank you all so much for your support. You have no idea what it means to me after so many months of witnessing zionist attacks both online and off, to see so many people come together and commit to helping someone I care about without a single zionist comment. There’s nothing but love here.

My friend reached her goal early this morning and I even saw people encouraging others to keep donating because they realized her family would need more. I am truly moved by this incredible show of compassion from everyone.

As you can imagine, life in Gaza is becoming increasingly more expensive. My friend has raised her goal to $10000 - let’s keep this train going and get her there within a week 🙏

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe 

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako 

@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria 

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @junglejim4322 @kibumkim @neechees 

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @marnota @7bitter @tortiefrancis 

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain

@aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts 

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat 

@watermotif @stuckinapril @violentrevolution @mavigator @lacecap 

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@papenathys @slicedblackolives @heliopixels @nimbooz @hiveswap 

@irhabiya @feluka @anneemay @tumkaafiho @fleshdyk3 

@balaclava-trismegistus @heritageposts @ripley-stark @paandaan 

@itsfookingloosah @rooh-afza @shesnake @akajustmerry @himejoshikaeya

@rainbowsnowflake @saint-oleander @f4rfields @cassandragemini

@fitzfunnymoments @skunkes @asharestupid @jonpertwee

[arolesbianism]

Bro I'm losing my god damn mind and I haven't even messed around with the new gameplay shit like at all. Ive spent the past like 5 hours just reading and looking at shit I haven't even played the damn video game

[dieinct]

i was just talking about this after being wrecked by the discovery that the little elf-goblin fellows my parents/family used to tell me warnings and stories about as a little kid are regionally specific, and that you can trace people's geographic origins by what word they use for "little spirit-fellows who live in your house". no matter what you call them (domovoi, kobolde, brownies, so on); for purposes of this post henceforth "little guys"

i think one of the things that i find frustrating about like, idk, modern animist revivalist movements is that very few of them ime spend a lot of time romanticising and spiritualizing human habitation. obviously, we as a culture need to think more about protecting and defending nature/the earth/so on, but like.

if you don't have room in your heart for making up a little guy who lives in the water heater, or who squats under your stove and makes it run 15 degrees off the programmed temperature, and thinking of him with the same kind of respect/affection as you do for the spirits (or whatever) of the wildlife you interact with like.

genuinely: what are you even doing. you are removing a source of richness and fun and whimsy from your life! like, pip @creekfiend made up the concept of "little guys who live in an airport (and are the reason it's so shitty to be in an airport)" and i already like airports like 30% more just knowing it's the little airport inconvenience guys doing that.

more importantly, like. genuinely: interrogate what parts of the world seem ~rich with spiritual meaning~ to you. what parts of the world are "wild"? what does that make the rest of the world - a chore? a burden? who has to carry that burden?

we're never going to like, "return to nature", because that's nothing and the concept of untouched nature is also nothing; we're always going to have some sort of human habitation and interaction and cultivation with nature. if you can't extend grace and whimsy and genuine and sincere meaning to human habitation, including its inconveniences and annoyances, you are making your own lived experience duller!

notably, most of these kinds of little-guy-spirits historically exist in the parts of human habitation that are partially abandoned, partially removed: haylofts, inside the walls, under the house, in the bathhouse, behind the furnace... i've been thinking a lot about urban wildlife lately, and the animals who make space for themselves in and around human habitation. the "natural" and the "wild" persist inside and around the edges of the "tame" and always, always have. if you have a crawlspace, there's a little spirit who lives there and he's the reason the dryer always eats your socks.

LIVE WHIMSICALLY.

[mufos-photo-album]

A lil' PSA (and call to action?)

Hey all! From now on, I will be blocking anyone who follows me/interacts with my posts if I suspect they're a bot. If you've been on Tumblr for a while you're probably no stranger to bots, but the reason why I'm making a full-on post is because this situation also involves AI image generation.

This post contains more in-depth information (as well as a juicy block list), but if you'd like to hear it from me: Basically, there's a strand of bot accounts going around, stealing from artists/photographers and slapping an AI filter onto their works to make it seem like the AI generated it.

Don't believe me? I did my own look-around of these accounts and noticed that they sometimes include really specific tags on their AI posts, like the kind of tags an artist would leave behind has a comment on their work. I decided to search the tags of 2 posts and found multiple bots stealing from one artist. In both images below, the original artist is the one on the left

If you still don't believe me or want to see more examples, the account @ai-art-thieves has been doing a lot of callouts lately of these kinds of accounts.

As for what you can do, I advise you to be a bit weary about the accounts that follow you or reblog your posts. So far, all of the bots have a predictable naming scheme + look to them that's seen in both the post I linked as well as my screenshots. If you see these things in the wild, please report and block them!

[hauntedrain]

For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |

Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.

✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music

Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others

@Y/N: Lovely time lately.

view all 19,234 comments

user1: LMFAO MAX.

user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic

user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.

↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.

↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?

↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.

↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?

↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.

↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?

↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.

MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.

↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?

↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.

↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.

Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.

View all 14,567 comments

Y/N: I told you they were a good investment

↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.

↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.

↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!

↪ user12: better than a ring?

↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?

user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?

user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.

↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.

liked by 18,234 others

@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?

view all 5,567 comments

user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?

user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.

↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.

↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.

User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.

↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.

user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.

Y/N has posted to their story!

liked by 6,678,567 others

@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?

view all 35,567,878 comments

Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?

↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.

↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.

user24: WTF 3 YEARS?

user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.

↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?

↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N

↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.

↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.

↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.

↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING

↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all

User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.

user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.

user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.

[cryptfile]

☆ Loveseat, [ Carmen Berzatto AU ]

SUMMARY — After being in a relationship with Carmen, you cannot help but being extra judgemental when it comes to food.

WARNINGS — i’m currently rotting in hell, meaning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, +18 content, there’s a lot of, cursing, choking, praising, dirty talking, mentions of food and eating, hair pulling, fingering.

SIDE NOTES — This is my first post here, so hope you guys like it. English’s not my first language so if there's any mistakes in advance, i’m sorry. Please interact if you like this, reblogs, comments, likes, all means a lot to me! I’ll leave my inbox open so you can suggest more characters! This takes place in an alternative timeline for own my liking, enjoy! x

Lately, Carmen Berzatto was not sure how he managed to get you.

To be completely honest, most of his friends seemed to wonder how he managed to pull the tattooer that adorned his hands with cool designs being that shy, however, when you started texting him photos of your daily food stating it was complete bullshit — He knew he had you in for a long time.

He would explain himself it was something casual at first. A few texts every now and then, swimming between a wave of bad jokes and tension he was sure he was imaging as he read through the texts you send at least twice, then, he would know he’d win you over with food.

Maybe that’s when you became so judgemental at first, after trying the lasagna he made for you after being so tired from working all day long, something else just snapped, even when he was done being near the fire, not even wanting to look at a plate ever again: He managed to spoil you with something good to eat anyways, making you moan in pure pleasure after craving some good food all day.

Of course it was important, can you even blame him?

He was not very vocal about it, hell, it was hard for him to even admit it even after being with you almost six months, but he loved the way you reacted to all his stuff. Even if it was something simple like scrambled eggs or regular pasta with plain butter, it was the way you groaned and grab the spoon licking the silverware clean, showering him with praises after when he was so used to be miserable in the kitchen.

“Open up,” he says before feeding you with the spoon. It was one of those nights where he was trying new stuff at your place, keeping you up till late seated on the kitchen counter close to him as he cooked, opening your mouth just to give an allegedly meaningful critique. “Any thoughts? Feedback?”

It was a wild ride for sure. A turbulent one as you closed your eyes all suddenly, the image burnt on the back of his head when you groaned savoring the taste like it was something else.

“Dunno,” you admit later on, trying to think on anything bad to say — “Need to have another bite before giving an honest answer.”

He smirks in response, repeating the same action just to hear you speak again. Being with you was something similar as his cigarette breaks, escaping from all the stress he usually gets in his life.

Silence again.

“Well fuck, you have me here. Maybe needs some more salt,” you think out loud. Almost trying to say something bad out of force as you knew he wouldn’t stop until he got an brutally honest answer. “The combinations of flavors though is really breathtaking, you outdone yourself this time. Could tattoo this risotto on me, no questions asked.”

Salt? He takes a bite himself almost immediately.

“It doesn’t need any more salt” he replies furrowing his brows in response. “We’ve talked about this sweetheart…”

“You wanted me to be a critique,” you admit almost offended, letting out a light chuckle before stealing the spoon from his hand in one swift movement. “I'm, being indeed, sincere here."

God. It was those moments that made him catch his breath, how the minutes passed slower and everything else seemed to blurry around the two of you. He cannot deny it, cause he loves the snarky responses, the way your mouth wraps around the spoon in a way that made him so devastated at the sight, head spinin’ with the thought of the things he already did to you, the memories that he seems to cherish so deeply.

He cannot stop either when his fingers toy with your hair, the strains sliding smoothly through his fingers. You seemed to enjoy it too, cause it's all it takes to make you forget about the food, leaning into his touch.

"Since when you became my main critique, hm?” he asks, placing himself between your tights as he invaded your space with nothing but pure confidence in his cooking skills. He knew for a fact, it didn't need any more salt. "Made you so spoiled you are a new expert here, baby?"

“Well, it’s your fault anyway" you defend yourself, narrowing your eyes at his words. "You're the one who spoils me rotten, always feeding me nice tasty stuff, keeping me up till’ late trying new things. I’m what you taught me to be, cannot blame for being a good critique. It is what it is."

"So you're blaming me for being a caring partner?" he cannot hold the laugh back, pulling on your hair almost enough to make you look at him. “S’that what you’re implying here?” 

“Would never even dare to” you admit all innocence bitting the inside of your cheek, and Carmen swears you’re doing it just to get in his brain, to control every action in that twisted brain of yours, and he cannot stop himself to fall every time, pulling on your hair slightly rougher this time as he towers over you. “Just implying that you’ll ruin food for me forever if we keep this up.” 

“Not seeing what’s the problem with that” he simply replies as he stared at your expression, how the simple act of your head tilted backwards made his blood boil, the exposed skin of your neck pulling him like the polar opposite of a magnet as he looks down at you — “Don’t really care.”

He’s clearly enjoying that. The sudden proximity as his left hand travels through your side, gripping onto your tight as he gives a light squeeze, tracing invisible patterns against your warm skin that contrasts so much to the chef’s usual cold hands. 

He cannot possibly have enough of you as you melt into his touch, in the very edge of turning into a mad man as he grabs a fistful of your hair to pull you in a demanding kiss, tongue-tracing over your lower lip, almost asking for a formal invitation to finally invade you, his breathing colliding against your skin, holding you in place as he suffers from a burst of pure adrenaline. 

His hands betray him in no time, drawn by the sounds you make when he’s nibbling on that nice curve on your neck, allowing his hand to glide over your soft skin just to end up in your inner tights, fingertips just barely touching as he just watches over you, the sight of you being just enough, that nice smell on your skin when he kisses your neck, your perfume being all around him… it’s getting to him.

He quickly becomes all so vocal, when he’s finally reaching the fabric of your shorts and his touch leaves a burnt sensation behind, the sound of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Gonna’ ruin it f’ya, baby” he says in a low voice — “Looking s’hot all bothered already just for a few kisses, cannot help but spoil m’girl.” 

Of course he fucking loves it. He loves how he knows exactly how to make a mess out of you, touching just the right places, concentrated in your pleasure as he drags the velvety fabric of your shorts to the side, making you crave the touch of his fingertips before finally slide them beneath the fabric of your underwear, lips parted as he finally touches your entrance, taking his time with you.

“God, you’re so wet f’me already, so damn warm” he says in a low whisper, making you talk in between your erratic breathing words that don’t seem to mean anything.

It’s so good. The frantic feeling washing over him as his fingers move in circles over your clit, the almost unnoticible wet sounds filling the air of the kitchen as he places soft kisses in that very spot where your shoulder meet the curvature of your neck. He just knows exactly what he’s doing. How to get under your skin, how to make you run out of breath, and he simply grew attached to it, to the way your skin feels so smooth against his fingers and you act up minutes before beggin’ for more.

And when he finally buries two digits in your cunt — God fucking damn.

He cannot keep the facade, blue eyes drinking the sight of you in as you moan, hips moving against his palm watching how his fingers dissapeared in you, pumping slowly at first, enjoying the way your walls wraps around his fingers, the words that came out of your opened mouth in pure desperation.

“Bear,” you would say in an unsteady breathing “O-oh fuck yes, yes baby, please don’t stop, please-”

The hand who pulled your hair before now tightens around your throat, and he can see you smiling like you’re in fucking paradise before he presses against that nice spot in the side of her neck, cutting the suministration of air to your lungs slightly. Always so eager, making him try new things together even when he was used to an relatively calm, almost non-existant sex life when all his focus was on the restaurant, insisting on trying new things that he end up loving.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me, taking me so s’good” he praises you for a moment, obliging you to look at him when he talks “Lettin’ my fingers fill you up like this, a mess already.”

“That’s it baby, move those pretty hips, need you to keep fuckin’ y’self.”

Lewd sounds, his tight grip on your neck, your hips arching to find that perfect place for him to hit and it’s all it takes for the chef to bring you closer and closer to the edge, fingers curling inside your soaked cunt, moaned sentences that in his ear are only adding up fuel to keep flexing his muscles for you, to keep on stimulating you.

“Gonna cum,” you let him know, but he’s quickly shaking his head in disapproval — “Carm, please, need to-”

“You can hold a little longer, princess” he coos, his grip on your throat almost making you stop breathing completely. Fuck. Your vision becomes dizzy, and for Carmen, the view is nothing but pure delight in front of him. Your shirt raised over your stomach, you pretty little face all disorted thanks to the thrill, parted legs just to give him more space to work with, fighting for some air. He’s so damn greedy about it, knowing he’s the only person who can get you like that. “Hm, stop squeezing me like that baby.”

He chuckles lightly, your hands gripping into the edge of the counter, raising one leg over the table as you try to do what you’re told, to please him every single time. He’s torturing you, and you cannot blame him cause you made him like that, just like he spoiled you with food. All those times whimpering in his bedsheets, asking all shy if he can choke you while pounding into your cunt, cheeks red while riding him, whispering things about how thick he feels inside, how he’s stretching you out so nicely, made him confident enough to know exactly what you like.

Carmen Berzatto is a caring boyfriend after all.

“S’okay, sweetheart” he says moments after, placing soft kisses on your face, your skin glimmering against the lights of your kitchen, a light layer of sweat as you closed your eyes tightly — “Cum baby, let me feel you” he talks you through it, words coming to his mouth so easily now, the sound of his tone so raspy it makes you arch your back as you finally let yourself go, riding the orgasm and making it last as long as you can, your own pleasure being your only priority as his digits bury themselves in your cunt, pressing against your neck to make it more difficult for you, to fill your eyes with tears as you loudly moan his name.

He holds you place, the mess he made out of you in such short time, eyes following the way your body shakes in the glimpse of ecstasy, fingers still pumping inside you but at a much slower pace, knowing you’d be sensitive now, lips swollen, messy hair and ruined mascara.

“Willing to admit now i’m right?” he ask in a low voice, letting you breathe as he was still afected by you — “That it doesn’t need any more salt, smartass?”

You hum in response, chuckling at his stubborn remark, your hands gripping into his arm just to dig your nails in his tattooed skin, almost begging him to let you breathe a second.

“Get up,” he says, not harshly enough to be a command, but instead, a plea. “Bend over the counter baby. M’not done with you yet.”

And even being so sensitive, you cannot help but comply, looking at your boyfriend through half-lidded eyes cause yeah, he made you a spoiled brat in terms of food, but you have definitely broke something else when it came to the intimacy he was now into.

Or maybe you just loved being his main critique.

[joeybsversion]

Trouble

Joe Burrow x Reader

Your friends and family aren’t fond of Joe

“Seriously, he’s trouble. I can’t believe you’re going out with him.” Your friend scoffed, turning off the end of the Bengals game.

“He’s not trouble!” You defend him. “Really, he’s a nice guy!”

“Oh really? Is that why you’ve refused to tell your parents you’re dating him?”

“They’re just not big Bengal fans. It has nothing to do with Joe.” You lied as your friend rolled her eyes.

You had been secretly dating Joe Burrow, the Cincinnati Bengals Quarterback for 7 months now. It’s true, most people weren’t fond of Joe. He comes across as cocky, rude, and privileged. Plus his current bad boy edit doesn’t help much. Joe had recently gotten himself into trouble. He’s found a love for partying, blowing his money, and being reckless. All causing excess fame and a negative spotlight, something you wanted to avoid.

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he got suspended from games for legal trouble? Or has shown up to practice violently hungover?”

“How’d you hear about that?” You questioned.

She laughed, “It’s all over the news. He’s gonna get himself into some real trouble and not have a career here soon.”

“He’s working on turning things around. Really. I swear.” You do your best to defend him again. You seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Plus we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months. I’m just having fun.”

“I know, and I’m happy for you. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But I know none of that is going to change your mind, so go have fun tonight.”

“I love you. If my mom asks, I’m here!” You remind her and head out the door, “Your pizza should be here soon and I logged into my Netflix account!” You figured if your friend has to spend the night posted up in her room to cover for you, you might as well take care of her.

You hopped into your car and headed over to Joes house, he was throwing a party after the game. Joe’s parties were always fun, usually a little wild, and typically ended with the police kicking people out and shutting things down. As much as Joe was trying to work past his bad boy edit, he couldn’t help it. He’s young and having fun.

The loud music from Joe’s house is rattling your car as you pull into his driveway. He’s outside on the porch with some teammates smoking a cigar.

As you walk through his thick cloud of smoke and clear the air in front of your face with your hand, Joe pulls you into a hug.

“There’s my baby.” His words slurred, you’re unsure if it’s from alcohol or the thick cigar pressed between his lips.

“Hi, Joey.” You wrap your arms around his waste and snuggle into his chest. “Good game, congrats on the win.”

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, “I want you to come to the next one.” He smiles.

“Me? At the game? Isn’t it in a different state?” You question, suddenly nervous. You and Joe had been casually dating, nothing was public yet.

“The next home game.” He laughs, blowing a thick cloud of smoke over your head. “2 weeks.”

“I’ll think about it.” You try and reassure him.

“Think about it?” He asks offended.

“Well, yeah..I don’t… I’m not sure…” you feel his arms drop from around you. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go public yet.” You nervously tell him.

“It’s a football game. Not a red carpet.” He says annoyed.

“I know but…”

He cuts you off “It’s fine. Don’t come.”

“Joe I want to!” You reassure him.

“Seems like it.” He scoffs before heading inside, you following close behind.

“Joe I do! Really, there’s nothing I’d love more! I just still haven’t told many people about us, and you know, you haven’t had the best press lately and I don’t want to mess that up anymore for you and I just worry that-“

He presses the cigar to your mouth “take this.” He laughs cutting you off. “I’m sorry about the press. I’m working on it. Tomorrow I have a fun event at the elementary school. Next week, the high school. And the whole team is volunteering at the blood drive. Nothing but positive press up until the game.”

“Wow, what’s next? Taking a shift at the old folks home? Serving in the soup kitchen?” You tease.

He rolls his eyes, “So are you coming to the game or not?”

“I guess you better find me a Burrow jersey, because I’ll be there.” You smile.

The rest of the night is a blur. Lots of drinks, lots of dancing, too many sweaty bodies, and even louder music. You wake up the next morning tangled up in bed with Joe. His heavy arm around your waste and soft breathing on the backside of your neck. You slowly loosen his grip and start to make your way out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He grumbles, barely audible.

“Home.” You slip your shoes on. “And you need to get up too. Your elementary school meet and greet starts in 45 minutes.” You sit down on the side of the bed again. “I don’t think the elementary school principal appreciates his guest of honor showing up smelling like a mini bar.”

“You’re probably right.” He slowly starts to sit up. “I’ll reserve some spots for you for the game.” He says. “Any request on where you want to sit?”

All the nerves come back. “Doesn’t matter.” You smile at him, wishing you could avoid the game all together. It’s not that you were ashamed to be with him, you were just anxious about what people, especially your parents will say. “I’m gonna get out of here.” You quickly excuse yourself, not sure if the sudden butterflies in your stomach are from drinking too much, or the next home game.

You call your best friend on your way and tell her all about the game.

“You’re gonna have to tell your parents.”

“I can’t! They will freak if they find out I’ve been dating him!”

“So are you going to keep your relationship a secret forever?”

“I don’t know I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“Well scratch that thought, it’s not a secret anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Check your phone.”

As you pull in your parents drive way, you pull out your phone to see a news article your friend sent you, a picture of you and Joe is on the front page. “Where did you find this?” You panicked.

“I was just checking E! News. It looks like every major magazine is covering it now!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” You sigh, “I have to tell them now. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you later. I’ll probably need some support.”

“Good luck!” She says and ends the call.

“You’re WHAT?” You dad hollers, slamming down the news paper he was reading.

“Dad, he’s a nice guy. Really I -“

“No. The little romance you guys having going on is over. I can’t believe this. You’re such a good girl, why would you want to be with someone like him?”

“He’s nothing like what the press makes him out to be. He’s actually really kind, and supportive, and is volunteering a lot for the community.”

“I don’t care if he’s the president. You are not being seen with someone like him.”

“About that..”

“What?”

“Well the news got pictures of me at his house last night and leaked a story.” You hide your face in your hands.

“At his house?” Your mom questions. “So you’ve been lying to us? Clearly he’s a bad influence to be hanging around.”

“I lied because I knew you would react like this. You’re not even giving him a chance.”

“I’ve never seen you defend someone like this. What is going on?”

“I’m…”

Your dad crosses his arms across his chest “I’m in love with him. And I’m going to be with him and support him no matter how you feel. You don’t know him like I do.”

“I’ve never seen you fight for someone like this.”

“Because, I love him.”

Your dad sighs, “I don’t know if I like the sound of that. But I’m willing to give him a chance. Why don’t you invite him over.”

“Really?!”

“Like I said,” he pauses, “I’m not crazy about him, but I can tell that you, and for that reason, I want to get to know him.”

A few hours later, Joe shows up on your front porch and confidently knocks on the front door.

“Hi Joey.” You greet him with a smile and hug. “You look great… did you iron your shirt?” You tease him, brushing a hand across his perfectly pressed shirt.

“Steamed it actually.” He smiles, “I wanted to make a good impression.” He nervously takes your hand and follows you into the house.

“Mom, Dad, this is Joe.” You awkwardly present him to your parents.

He politely shakes their hands and takes a seat at the table next to you.

You feel his hand find its way to your thigh, his palms are sweaty, and his fingers are nervously tapping across your leg. You reassuringly take his hand into yours and lightly rub across the top and share a confident smile.

At the end of dinner, you and Joe excuse yourselves and you walk him to the porch.

“They loved you.” You kiss him.

“I’m so relieved.”

“My dad even wants to go to the game with me!”

He laughs, “I’ll get extra tickets.”

Relieved that your parents were pleased with Joe, you walked him out, he kissed you goodnight, and you sent him on his way home.

It’s official and the world knows, you’re in love with Joe Burrow.

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[soullessdianthus]

Could we get some pervy soap or ghost 👀👀

You got me hooked on pervy Konig 🥵

A/N: Your wish has been granted. (≖⌣≖)

Warnings: cocky, playboy MacTavish who is possessive af (he has no shame), nsfw (choking?, ass slapping, exhibitionism, shower sex, masturbation, creampie, rough sex as punishment)

My requests are open for I don’t know how long (as I have a lot of work lately)! ٩(^ᗜ^)و Just please read the disclaimer (pinned post)! Send requests HERE ✉︎

✧°. John was a pretty popular guy in his school years. And he knew he was quite handsome too, so he never really complained about the lack of girl’s attention. Things got a little different when he enrolled in the British military. 

✧°. As he reached his twenties, Johnny wasn’t satisfied with teasing all these other recruits in a hall or a canteen. Especially, because it rarely ended with sex, almost never. He was a busy man with loads of obligations around the base. It could be certainly said that he changed a little and grew out of the playboy phase. 

✧°. For a while at least.

✧°. But the lack of previously mentioned intimacy almost drove him nuts. Perv!Soap was a simple man, he just needed to blow off some steam, you know?

✧°. Then one lucky day, a group of new recruits came into the training grounds and you certainly got his attention. A pretty thing that smiled to him as you walked by Sergeant MacTavish. 

✧°. Johnny felt like his veins were flooding with testosterone again, the mere sight of your curves, made his cock throb. None of the other women soldiers intrigued him so much. it had to be that innocent smile of yours.

✧°. So naturally, Perv!Soap offered you a little tour around the base, while keeping his hand on your lower back. He was just trying to be nice and give you a warm welcome, right? He seemed like a spark of joy!

✧°. He would find himself daydreaming about you, about what position he would put you in or what would he do to pull the sweetest screams out of your tight throat. 

✧°. His imagination was wild – you were just sweeping the dust to the tray while kneeling? John already was imagining you on your knees in front of him, begging for his cock, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth. 

✧°. Perv!Soap would be a bold type of man, whose intentions were crystal clear. He wanted to mark you as his as soon as possible. MacTavish couldn't bear the thought of other men laying their disgusting hands on you. He had to claim you first.

✧°. The perfect opportunity happened, when you came into the gym for a sparring session. Of course your good friend was there to train with you! Johnny invited you into a ring, before giving some advice. 

✧°. Being bigger and stronger than you, Soap made you stumble and fall more times than a fingers hand has. Yet, you kept standing up, willing to continue the sparring session. Perv!Soap enjoyed each minute he had your body within his firm grip, your front or back rubbing against him. It really riled him up.

✧°. So when he had you on the ground, laying atop of him and between his thighs in a tight chokehold, Johnny threw a couple of inappropriate jokes towards his friends who were watching the ring. They laughed and you tried to wiggle away once again.

✧°. “Hope yer gonna keep the spirit, bonnie. I like ‘em feisty.” He whispered into your ear, when your throat was being suffocated with his bicep. You struggled again, letting out a whine and a huff. Such an innocent sound, however it got John’s cock almost hard. You felt it digging into your lower back. 

✧°. Perv!Soap would make clear that you already belong to him. If some unfortunate soul dared to look at you in the wrong way, MacTavish would pin them to the wall and threaten them. Or, in a worse case scenario, he would just punch the wretch’s jaw or nose. Hard. 

✧°. Furthermore, when crossing him in the hallway, Soap wouldn’t bother with decency. If he had a desire to smack your plump ass, he wouldn’t hesitate. John would smile to himself, if he managed to pull a loud gasp out of you, when his strong palm struck your bum.

✧°. Perv!Soap’s confidence would only boost if he ever made you flustered. Which was often. With previously mentioned slaps or dirty words whispered into your ear. 

✧°. “Oh, bonnie. Let me fuck yer pretty tits, eh?”

✧°. “Good lass, learnin’ fast, aren’t we? Got me wonderin’, what else can I teach ya?” 

✧°. When it came to drinking outside the base, after a successful mission let’s say, Soap would rather sooner than later pull you into his lap. His thighs were more comfortable than a cheap chair and this way he could watch over you. 

✧°. Because he was a good friend and didn’t want anybody to throw a pill into your drink, right? Johnny called it a “scary dog privilege” when you sat at his thighs. But to be honest, for him it was a power move. Everyone else from your group acknowledged how protective Soap was over his girl.

✧°. Perv!Soap would sneak into your shower cabin and shush your loud gasp, before anyone could hear. He placed his big palm against your lower jaw and placed a finger over his lips. You were so cute, when you tried to cover your modesty, even now when both of you were completely naked. 

✧°. “Ya gotta help me, bonnie. I’ve got a problem.” John said to you, pointing at his painfully hard cock. Your face turned bright red.

✧°. “Now? Someone might hear us!” You yelled at him, keeping the whispering tone. Slowly your hand that was covering your breasts, loosened up and rested at the side of your body. Fuck it, he already seen enough. 

✧°. “Sh, sh, sh. Don’t ya worry, I’ll be quiet, eh?” 

✧°. Petrified or willingly, you allowed him to guide your smaller hand over his throbbing length. Soap stood close to you, his chest brushing against your perky nipples as the stream of warm water ran down your curves and his toned muscles. 

✧°. Perv!Soap showed you how to stroke him and where to squeeze him. As he predicted you were in fact a fast learner. Quickly you understood how he wanted to receive a handjob and you complied, encouraged by his hand sneaking to the side of your face. The other one was playing with your nipples. 

✧°. Sergeant was breathing heavily, huffing into your face just below his. He was getting closer, faster than ever before. You made him this soft, it was your hand that drove him into sweet like honey delirium. 

✧°. When he came, his cum spurted onto your palm and some landed on your stomach. Soap moaned, holding onto the shower stall on his left. 

✧°. However, the warm and thick liquid was washed away by the trickle of water. 

✧°. “That’s a good girl.” Johnny would be so cute and sweet on you, when you did whatever he asked you to.

✧°. But when you misbehaved or even unwittingly flirted with another soldier, Perv!Soap would be rather rough and tough with you, shoving you into the closest, empty storage in the base.

✧°. Johnny would push your face against the wall, tightly gripping your wrists behind your back. He didn’t care when you scowled and whined at him. Soap kicked your feet further apart, before he started to grind against your ass. 

✧°. “You belong to me, remember? Only I can fuck your tight cunny, lass.” 

✧°. Perv!Soap didn’t care that you mumbled out an apology, he wanted to make a point here – to show you were his little fucktoy. 

✧°. So he pushed his way between your puffy folds without any preparations, John knew you would take him anyways. He wasn’t so sweet and gentle about the intercourse, not at all.

✧°. Soap set a fast and rough pace that made each of his powerful thrust borderline painful. Balancing between the soreness and pleasure. One of his hands kept your wrists restrained, while the other hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, forcing you to arch your back for him.

✧°. Your slightly suppressed moans and whines were music to his ears, only encouraging him to keep thrusting into your tight cunt.

✧°. And just before his actions made you and him orgasm, he pulled out of you and nestled his cock between your puffy folds. Ropes of thick cum covered your pussy and instantly began dripping onto your underwear.

✧°. Perv!Soap would pull your panties back up to their place, clinging tightly against your wet sex. Somehow you were conflicted and couldn’t decide if you were disgusted by the feeling of his semen smearing across your labia or were you aroused. 

✧°. “Go on, now.” Johnny told you, slapping your clothed ass in a gentler manner. 

✧°. “But–”

✧°. “If any bastard would try to sneak their hand into your panties, they’ll know, who this cunny belongs to, yes? I marked it.”

[nehi-soda]

Once More to See You - DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.

A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!

Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.

You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your last…hangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.

"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.

"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.

You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.

Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.

Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.

“Hey, loner,” your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didn’t answer.

“Um… you…oka-.”

“Not right now, Kay,” you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.

"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.

You tailed him into the kitchen.

He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.

"Alright, what’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.

“How much have you had to drink?” He said, ignoring your question.

“Not a lot,” you retorted, heat rising up your body.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie,” he scoffed in his southern drawl.

“Oh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?” You replied a little too loudly. “I’m just some silly little girl who doesn’t know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!”

Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.

Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.

Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. “We’re settin’ the fireworks off soon,” he said smugly with a toothy grin.

“Oh, great.” You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.

The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."

Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.

You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.

Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.

“This needs to stop,” he said sternly.

Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"

"Yes. Us. It’s wrong, and it’s only goin’ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.

"But we make each other happy. Isn’t that enough?" You said franticly.

"It’s not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad… if he ever found out… it would be such a mess.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesn’t have to find out. We’ve been so careful. Please, Joel…I love you,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.

"Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. “It's just so complicated.”

“I don’t care” you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.

"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."

He cupped your face in his hands. “You deserve better than this. Better than sneakin’ around and hidin’. You deserve someone who can give you everything.”

"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."

Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlin’,” and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.

"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."

Joel just stood there and took it.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you muttered.

You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!” You repeated.

Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.

"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"

"Joel, please...", you gasped.

Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.

The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; you’d hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."

"Th-then… d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. “J-just b-be with me..."

“Aaah, fuck, who’s got good pussy baby?” Joel growled, his voice low and rough.

"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."

"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-I’ve got good pussy, Joel. It’s all y-yours!”

"Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joel’s hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."Ugh…yes, Joel,” you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. “l love it w-when you f-fuck me.”

“Hmm, always feel so good, baby,” he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

“That’s it, baby, it’s okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.”

Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.

He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl.  You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.

"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.

Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doin’ this."

You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"

He finally met your gaze. "It’s not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"But we can’t keep playin’ childish fuckin’ games, and you’re too naive to see the damage this could cause.”

"Don’t you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "You’re the one who started this.”

Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t see you again,” he said coldly.

You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.

Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.

You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didn’t stop until you reached home.

The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.

You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.

Fucking your dad’s best friend, what did you expect; thought you’d live happily ever after with a white picket fence?

Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naïve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.

But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.

A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dad’s voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.

"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wondered where you were. You’re missing the fireworks, honey.”

"Please, just leave me alone."

“Hm, Joel did say you weren't feelin’ well, had too much to drink?”

How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts he’s just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?

divider credit to @kthice

*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Will Pay (Harwin x Reader)

I wanted to write something a little more angry, as you guys know by now I love creating mad women and just portraying the emotions as borderline psychotic, so I hope you guys love this as much. Also please leave a comment it really helps me

The books and the maesters had very descriptive stories about the war of dragons, sisters, and brothers who went to war and detailed tales of the members and which side they resided with.

One particular story that a lot seemed to gloss over so carelessly was one of the most complicated ones, (y/n) Velaryon, the older sister of Laenor and Laena Velaryon, a comely girl and a fierce dragon rider as her egg hatched while she was in her cradle.

The maesters and fools describe her as a vicious woman, a power-hungry lady that cared for nothing but herself, but when had the maesters ever taken the time to look past their nose?

Aegon had bestowed her the title of the king's hand which caused a riot amongst the council, to force your grandsire to step down from his post, and for a woman at that, it was more than something Lord Otto could stomach, still (y/n) thrived as she meticulously plotted her vengeance against Rhaenyra.

“She took everything from me, my dignity, my love, my life, it is time for Rhaenyra to pay her debt to me”

She had confessed to Dowager Queen Alicent and her father whilst she sat next to Vaemond, urging her uncle to petition against Lucerys, some even wholeheartedly believe the Lady had gone rogue after she saw her uncle's head cut off, though she had to admit that being witness to her uncle calling Lucerys a bastard and breathing life to the shameful past (y/n)s late husband had forced her to a darker path.

How convenient would that have been? To blame the unquenchable thirst for revenge on that, no, her sulking ran deeper than that, like a venom slowly releasing droplets on (y/n) 's heart.

Despite it all (y/n) had proved to be more detail-oriented than any man, she had foreseen a plethora of moves from the blacks' side, (y/n) knew her father's mind and her mother's heart like the back of her hand, hiding in the shadows and observing for most of her adolescence was now (y/n)s strongest trait.

Seastar and (y/n) flew to the skies in numerous battles, (y/n) had been forced to face her mother, to go against her in battle whilst Seastar burned countless of Corlys’s ships, (y/n) watched her mother fall from the sky and inevitably to her death, she had wrapped her mother's body in cloth and send it back to her father in dragonstone, it was then that Corlys decided to join the green side, (y/n) was the only family he had left, he could not bare to lose her.

There was a time that (y/n) was not bitter, she was perceived to be as sweet as the fruit from the lands, back at a time when she wore a wonderful dress and was wed to Harwin strong, a glowing bride who smiled from ear to ear at her beloved lord husband, the couple danced the night away after the ceremony and the maids would gushed over their marriage.

(Y/n) gave birth to 5 children, 3 girls, and 2 boys, all of them inherited a wild mixture of their mother's and father's hair, albeit the common trait amongst them was their mother's eyes, a deep violet color that pierced through souls, the children were given devoted love and attention by both parents, Harwin had been an excellent example of a father figure to all of them, he never shied away from bouncing his youngest while the others ran around like a tornado.

He had even insisted on being there for all of their births, and as the first cry of each of them would be heard, Harwin would brush away the strands of hair from (y/n) 's sweaty face, plant a loving kiss on her forehead and then on her hand, smiling sheepishly she would nod at him basking the feeling of accomplishment and euphoria that a newborn would bring as it would curl on her arms.

One would think 5 children would be enough of a proof that there was at the very least attraction between the couple, though life has never been proven to go by a book.

“Laenor”

(Y/n) breathed out as she fell in her brother's arms in desperation, the death of their sister hit them hard and the macabre nature of her ceremony was similar to adding salt to an open wound, Laenor held her tight as he too suffered the pain of his twin being ripped out of life far too soon.

“Let us go for a walk, I wish to speak with you”

“Of course, I too yearn to get away from all the false empathy”

She hissed from between her teeth as the siblings held on to one another and step by step the ever-exhausting role of whatever title they carried washed away from the sounds of the ocean.

“As the eldest, I worry about you, brother”

“As the youngest, I worry for you, you remember her first breath, and now you are here as she took her last”

“It is not how nature intended, I was the one that had to cross over first, I guess Laena always had a Niche for sudden disappearances”

Laenor only scoffed, (y/n) was a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve for most of her life, still Laenor could detect that the burdens she carried were heavy, it was forcing her to bend her ever-defiant backbone and suffer in silence as the priding eyes of the court stood by her side, judging any beat of sweat or a wrong bat of an eyelash.

“Laena never cared for what nature intended nor any of the ton thought, she was a young maiden when she rode her dragon with him”

“I wanted to kill her, she was never dim-witted, quite the contrary I like to believe, why did she force herself to even breathe behind the shadow of… her?”

“I would venture to ask the same from you?”

“Of me?”

She was taken aback by the question, quite frankly she could not fathom what could Laenor possibly have intended by it. Puzzled she tilted her head to the side as her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes never leaving his as Laenor somewhat hunched, he looked uncomfortable and defeated.

“Come on (y/n) it is just me”

“I do not follow”

“You cannot point your finger at Laena when you suffer the same fate”

“Suffer? Have you been drinking your grief away?”

(Y/n) was evidently annoyed by Laenors riddles, naturally her mind went to just drunken sentences, Laenor shifted on his feet as he scoffed at her, his arrogance slowly burned out as he detected that (y/n) kept sturdy with her act.

“You… do not know?”

“Know what?”

“About Harwin”

“For the love of everything holy spit it out”

“Harwin is fucking Rhaenyra!”

Laenor exclaimed as fast as his tongue allowed, (y/n) 's blood ran cold at a drop of a hat, her eyes widened as her breath halted right at her lungs, and all of a sudden the wind felt like pricks piercing her skin, then as Laenor waited for the curses and any type of reaction he was shocked to see (y/n) start from a soft giggle to a full-on belly laugh.

“(Y/n), sister”

Laenor went to wrap his arms around her but (y/n) dodged it away, continuing to laugh when her hands went to her knees, her body shook from the snickering and tears started to look in her eyes, escaping fast making her eyesight blurry and the draws of breath harder by the second.

“Please (y/n) say something”

“This is… perfect”

She managed to spit out in between her shrieks of laughter, Laenor took a step back out of fear as (y/n) hiccuped, the only way to describe this was that (y/n) was walking on a tight tightrope in between sadness and insanity, the anger began to coil on her insides as the sudden sensation of pain clawed on her heart. (Y/n) fell to her knees whilst tears made her eyesight blurry, Laenor felt helpless against her, as guilt was written on his face he worried if he had made the right choice, he had let her in the bliss of ignorance for far too long.

“I must, I must go”

“Where will you go?”

“To hell, most likely, but for now I will go to my lord husband, if you can call him that”

She mumbled mostly to herself as she struggled to get up, stumbling from time to time as she walked back to their chamber, some that happened upon her described the sight as a drunken pale ghost, a demeanor that was highest unexpected of her, she could never recall how she had mastered to walk back, she had guessed that the force of habit or the desperate urge for privacy forced her legs to move one after the other and to the door that with the last ounce of power she managed to push.

Her legs had given up as the door closed by itself and (y/n) fell on the floor, she merely switched sides so she could face the ceiling and waited for Harwin, she could have been waiting for hours but to her, the thoughts had wrapped their cloak around the aspect of time, tears had ran dry and her mouth was as dry as sand yet she refused to move.

Harwin had almost stumbled over her when he walked in, it took him a second to register what was happening, his lady wife laying on the floor consciously yet the air felt like something had happened, the obvious guess was the grief overcame her.

“My dear, do you need help?”

“Don’t touch me”

“(Y/n)-“

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How… long?”

Her voice was low yet a hint of poison dripped out of her dry lips, as her throat begged for water all she was concerned about was how the ceiling felt like it would clash on her, the part that scared her was that she secretly hoped it did but only if that meant Harwin would go down with her.

“What has happened?”

“That is supposed to be my question, what happened that made you weak in Rhaenyras arms?”

Harwin only blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he was caught off guard by the question and confrontation, he had played cat and mouse with her for years and now the cat had seemed to just give up after she figured out that a mouse was hiding from her.

“(Y/n)-“

Harwin made the mistake of taking a step closer to her, out of impulse (y/n) used her foot to trip him resulting in him falling next to her, Harwin could not react as fast as (y/n) 's blood thrust and he had only a mere second to stop her from landing the dagger that she had so comically gifted him from stabbing him, the loud grunt was heard all around the room when she mounted him and attempted to land the dagger on his chest.

“I will fucking kill you”

“Stop!”

“I will watch as you tucking die you filthy excuse of a man! Let me do this”

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, she spat all over him as she threatened him with her teeth gritting against each other, Harwin had to put actual pressure on her hand and hurt her as she yelled out of pain and let the dagger off her tight grip, however (y/n) was not ready to give up the fight, her hands found his neck and tighten around him as much as he could.

“I will do it to you, to her, to your bastards, I gave you everything! This is how you choose to repay me? You are a demon!”

Harwin's airway was severely restricted, it was the first time that he feared his lady wife, not only was he scared of her taking his life, but the scariest part was as Harwin withered away (y/n) seemed to have a ghost of a smile and a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

“You’re killing me” he managed to get out

“Good”

It sounded almost like a moan the way she spoke, (y/n) couldn’t even have the decency of hiding how much joy this brought her.

Harwin years of training went into defense and he pushed her off with so much might that (y/n) fell back on the floor with her back. Coughs escaped her and so did Harwin as they gasped for air, (y/n)/ back was on fire but nothing could match the shame and anger that shimmered in her heart

“You sick bastard”

She yelled frantically as she dragged herself with her elbows a few inches away before her arms gave out on her and collapsed back on the floor with coughs shaking her.

Such a tragic scene, a couple that had burned bright for all of the seven kingdoms to watch was now inflicting torture on one another, emotional, physical, one could argue generational given the fact that (y/n) could not stand the idea of her children being eclipsed by Rhaenyras bastards.

Both of them gasping for air on the floor as (y/n) supported herself with her arms to gain some distance from the wooden floor, all one could hear was their panting and the groans in between out of agony and pain, the sight of them would bring pity on both of them, as a couple that once found comfort in each other now brought them a breath away from death.

“This is not the way to discuss this”

“I had given you my life, I tore myself to give you children, a wife anyone would envy, a life full of whatever you wished and what did you do?”

“You know I love you”

The only response (y/n) considered to be right was a swift kick at his leg causing him to flinch and hiss in pain, Harwin had remained motionless on the floor as (y/n) struggled to raise herself and stand up, she had made it about halfway and was up on her knees when a pain as sharp Valyrian steel sliced her across her stomach.

“I will never forgive you for this”

“(Y/n)”

he called for her as sweet as he always did, a few hours ago she would have melted with a happy smile at the sound of him calling her name.

“Get out! OUT!”

She was crying a screaming at him, spit escaping her mouth, Harwin gazed at her with guilt written all over him, (y/n) had endured the worst, scenarios that would make anyone break and yet she had managed to stand strong, all for him to blow it down like a withering deck of cardamom

Harwin got up and shamefully walked away from her, leaving her to cry, what he did not know was that (y/n) was not just grieving their marriage, she was grieving a child, blood was trickling down her leg and the pain only worsened by the moment, she was so excited to call the babe Laena, after her late sister and now she lost that chance as well.

She did not want to tell him yet, maybe inside her, she knew it would not last, but how could Mother be so cruel to her? Take away the last offspring of her love that now was sniffed out like a candle in the wind, the very last memory of the blissful marriage she thought she had.

(Y/n) placed her hands on her stomach as she wept, images of them together kept on clouding her mind and judgment, one that persisted was the day they welcomed their first child.

(Y/n) had suffered at the hands of the maesters, men that could not fathom the idea of a woman knowing better than them even though it was her that split into two pieces to bring a son into the world.

Harwin hastily had burst through the doors at the first sound of that marvelous cry the babe had managed to spit out and fill the room with sighs of relief.

“Praise the Gods, you have a son”

“Out of my way”

Harwin had mumbled before he shoved away the maester making his heavy metal chain click against its charms before he kneeled before (y/n). She was sweaty though her skin was cold, her eyes could not seem to focus and moved at glacial speed, she had managed to make her thighs touch as she had probably collapsed after the labor, and her calves were one in the east and the other in the west.

“My beautiful, sweet (y/n)”

“Harwin, stay”

“Of course, you did so well”

“I’m tired”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and her heavy breathing made it harder for him to listen to her words, as a sign of comfort Harwin placed his hand on the top of her head and started to pet her ever so softly, a sheepish smile appeared on her lips, after such intense act his caress brought her such security that the pain seemed to leave her body.

“Is he alright?”

“Healthy and kicking my lady, would you like to hold him?”

“No, I can’t, Harwin”

She begged, (y/n) could not even get out of bed for days, her body was wounded severely and all she seemed to want to do was sleep, Harwin would often jest that (y/n) only did it to make up for the nights her belly kept her awake, he had stayed by her side, holding their son, making sure she sees him and even helped her to hold him once she had regained her strength.

Now look at them, Harwin kneeling behind the door of the bed chamber as she yelled and cried, (y/n) was pushed into madness, she plunged herself deeper in the sea of chaos and salt of unfairness ached the scratches on her heart, a babe ripped away from her too soon and her lord husband stripped from the shinning armor of honor.

“You will pay! All of you will pay!”

Requests are open!

[hllywdwhre]

Blurred Lines

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: You come to Jonathan with a new idea that he’s more than willing to help you test.

Warnings: Ideas any psychological association would frown upon, Jonathan being Jonathan and getting off on fear, I’m gonna be honest I didn’t have the patience to write a lot of plot soo…. You’re getting enough to set up the story but that’s about it, needles, unprotected p in v, technically recording a sex tape but under the guise of ‘it’s for science’, lowkey (highkey) doctor/patient kink, bondage, dirty talk, degradation, light spanking, fingering

Word Count: 3.2K

Notes: I need help and a lot of it

You and Jonathan had worked together at the asylum for a couple months now. You were one of the only therapists that he could stand to work with, and it was purely because you took an interest in his… less than ethical ideas. Your interest in these ideas, mixed with the attraction you held towards him, lead to your own less than ethical idea.

The two of you typically stayed late at the asylum to work on paperwork. Usually, this involved you helping him with his and you teasing him about how you deserved a pay raise for being a psychiatrist and his assistant.

Tonight your teasing was absent as you thought over how to bring the idea up to him. You sat on the opposite side of his desk, sorting through a stack of papers. Deciding to bite the bullet and just spit it out, you cleared your throat and drew his attention to you.

“So, I had an idea about a way to overcome certain phobias,” you said, still looking down at the stack of papers as you flitted through them.

“And what would that be?” Jonathan asked, briefly glancing up at you before returning to his own stack of papers.

“It’s a mix of classical conditioning and exposure therapy.”

“Sounds like something that’s been tried before. Offer a reward to a patient so the patient associates their fear with a positive reinforcement instead of a negative memory,” he said dismissively, brushing you off.

“Yes,” you said, your voice turning hesitant, “but that’s not all for my idea… mine involves a different type of positive reinforcement.”

This seemed to catch his attention. He looked up at you, an eyebrow quirked.

“What type of reinforcement?”

“Well, what are the physical and chemical similarities between fear and arousal?” You asked. Both eyebrows raised as he seemed to catch an idea of where this was going, but he answered your question as if he was clueless just so you would continue explaining.

“They both release adrenaline and cortisol, and they both increase heart rate and breaths per minute.” His voice was calm as he answered, but the way his eyes remained glued to you as he answered revealed his interest.

You nodded your head and continued,

“And when you orgasm, the adrenaline and cortisol mix, along with hormones and chemicals specific to sex. You get a state of temporary bliss which can lead to the person experiencing the orgasm even developing fond feelings towards their partner. My idea would capitalize on those feelings of post-orgasmic bliss and use them to help people overcome their fears.” The words came out rushed but they had captured his attention even further.

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, the paperwork on his desk long forgotten now as he studied you and let the idea run wild through his mind.

“The theory is an interesting one, I’ll give you that,” he said, pausing for a moment before adding on, “but who would be willing to have this theory tested on them?”

A blush tinted your cheeks and you looked away from him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, it’s just a bit difficult to test… alone,” you said in a voice that was just barely audible.

He stood up from behind his desk and came to stand in front of you, one hand going under your chin to force you to look at him.

“I thought you had lost the ability to surprise me when you found out about my fear toxin, but here we are,” his voice trailed off as he continued to take you in. You could see his mind working a mile a minute behind his eyes as he went over your idea again and again in his head. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again, “I’ll help you test this, but only on certain conditions.”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. You didn’t know what you had expected his reaction to be, but a willingness to test your theory with you wasn’t how you thought he’d respond.

“What are they?” You asked.

“Firstly, I’m not blind. I know you didn’t just come to me with this idea because of my own unethical ideas. This entire experiment involves sexual attraction being needed, and I’ve noticed the way you look at me.” Your cheeks darkened even more as he called you out on your attraction to him, and this only made him chuckle. “If we do this experiment, I’m the only one who gets to see you like that. No one else.”

You resisted the urge to tease him and ask if this was his way of asking you to be his girlfriend, knowing it would get you nowhere and somewhat fearing the answer. Instead, you nodded your head once to say you understood.

“Next, we’d have to record these sessions. Neither of us are going to be in a clear enough space of mind to pay much attention to anything else during the session,” he said.

You nodded again. You knew you definitely weren’t going to be able to concentrate on anything aside from him during the session.

“Lastly, we’d have to do these sessions at my personal lab. Meaning you’d be seeing where I live along with a multitude of other things that I’ll need your word you won’t say anything about.”

“I haven’t said anything about your fear toxin, have I?” You pointed out, causing him to chuckle again and shake his head.

“No, I suppose you haven’t,” he admitted.

“Not to mention that you’re literally going to have a sex tape of me. If I said anything about this, both of our careers would be ruined,” you added on.

“I take it that means you agree to my terms?” He asked.

“Yes, I do,” you confirmed.

“Then how would you feel about starting the first session tonight? It’s a long weekend so neither of us have work on Monday in case you need an extra day to recover,” he offered, causing another look of surprise to rise on your face.

“I-uh, o-okay,” you stuttered out, watching as the familiar smirk grazed his lips.

The two of you gathered your things and made your way out to his car with him telling you he would bring you by to pick up your car the next day, but that there were a couple more things he wanted to go over with you on the ride there. You both put in place a safe word, deciding to use the color system. If everything was okay and he checked in on you, the color was green. If you needed things to slow down, you could say yellow at any time. And if you needed things to come to a complete stop, you could say red. He also informed you that there were already security cameras recording his lab, so both of your every moves would be recorded the entire time.

When you arrived back at his house, you followed him inside, taking in the area while he led you to his personal lab. You followed him through the doorway and down to the basement, entering into a room that looked exactly like a lab. You could see where it was once just a finished basement, but now there were tables full of various chemicals and, in the corner, a doctor’s examination bed, along with plenty of other things scattered throughout the room.

Plenty of questions flooded your mind, but you thought better than to ask them. The less you knew about what he did outside of work, the better.

“You said your fear was needles, correct?” He asked, causing you to turn and look at him.

“Yes. No particular reason for the fear, though,” you answered.

“I’ll gather everything if you want to go sit down and get ready,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion, as if you were just another patient he was treating.

You stripped naked and sat on the table, feeling what you were sure was going to be a permanent blush on your face.

Jonathan walked over a moment later with a tray that was covered and set the tray on the table. Despite the way he was trying to remain somewhat professional, you noticed the way his eyes raked over your figure, taking in every inch of you.

“Do,” he stopped and cleared his throat, another sign that he was affected by this the same as you were, “do you think you’ll need to be restrained?” He asked.

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the teasing comment leave your lips,

“I don’t think I’d need to be restrained, but I’m okay with a bit of bondage if you are,” you said, a smirk making its way across your lips as you spoke.

Jonathan’s eyes shot to yours and you felt a bit of smug satisfaction at the way you had been able to catch him off guard.

“Quite the little minx, aren’t you?” He asked in a teasing tone of his own.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Crane. Being tied up is just the tip of the iceberg.” With every sign of attraction towards you Jonathan let show, you felt your confidence boost, and this only seemed to spur him on.

He came to stand in front of your naked form, looking down at you and placing a hand under your chin again to keep you from looking away.

“Seems like it,” he agreed. His hand went from under your chin to the back of your neck, “maybe I’ve finally met my match,” he commented before pulling you to him.

Jonathan’s lips met yours in a hungry kiss and the last of your insecurity faded quickly. He kissed you as if he was a starved man and you were the only thing that could satiate his hunger. His tongue slid past your lips as he laid you back on the examination bed and crawled onto it himself. Your hands made their way to his hair, tugging slightly and eliciting a moan from him.

One of his hands went to your hair and pulled, exposing your neck to him. He left a line of kisses down it while nipping at random spots before he continued down further.

“F-fuck, Jonathan,” you moaned out when his mouth attached to one of your nipples.

His hand left your hair to play with your other nipple before he traded off and took your other one into his mouth, letting his tongue dart around it at the same time that his hand trailed between your legs.

“A bit of kissing and having your tits played with you gets you this worked up?” He taunted as he felt just how wet you were already, “Or did the idea of me strapping you to this table and doing as I please with you have something to do with it?”

Another moan fell from your lips as he teased you and began to rub gentle circles on your clit.

“Please, Jonathan,” you whined, your hips pushing against his hand as you desperately tried to get him to apply more pressure than the faint touches he was currently using.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said in a voice of faux sympathy before pulling his hand away. Before you could protest, he was strapping your wrists to the side of the table and crawling off of you to do the same to your legs.

Your legs were hanging off the edge of the table and bent at the knee and he crouched down to strap your ankles in place. There was no way for you to close your legs from him, leaving you on display.

When he stood back up again, there was an almost predatory look in his eyes as he took you in.

“All tied up for me,” he commented, trailing his hand along your inner thigh as he spoke, “a perfect little toy.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the pet name and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“All those times I caught you staring at me and I couldn’t figure out why,” be continued teasing, his fingers beginning to rub at your clit again and causing another moan to leave you, “who would’ve known it was you fantasizing about me tying you up and leaving you completely helpless to whatever I decided to do with you?”

With his free hand, he picked up something off of the tray he brought over earlier and revealed the object to you. It was an empty syringe and you felt your heart lurch when your eyes landed on the needle.

A slap was delivered to your inner thigh, causing your eyes to shoot back over to him,

“Eyes on me. You’re my toy, you watch me, not the needle. Understood?”

You nodded your head but another slap was delivered to the opposite thigh,

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you replied, stopping yourself before you said ‘sir’ and giving him a sly smirk, “yes, Doctor.”

The firm look he had been giving you changed. His eyes darkened and you could see the way he hadn’t expected for the use of his title in that manner to affect him so much.

“Such an obedient little thing,” he praised after a moment before pushing two fingers into you. He immediately curled them upward and caused you to let out another moan. “Such an obedient and twisted little thing. I lead you into my basement, tie you down, and give you a couple slaps and you’re this wet already? I could only imagine how you’d react if I got to treat you exactly how I wanted.”

The entire time he spoke, he was thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making sure to curl them and hit that spot inside you every time while your pathetic moans and whimpers continued filling the space.

“Then again, judging by the way you’re reacting to this, you’d probably get off on it.”

His words should’ve caused some amount of shame inside you, but at the same time they registered in your head, you felt the cold touch of the needle trailing down your cheek and towards your neck. The sensation caused you to freeze for a moment, but when his fingers curled inside you and he used his thumb to begin rubbing at your clit, the shame left your mind.

“Fuck, darling, you might’ve been onto something combining fear and sex,” he said with a chuckle, “Especially if you clench around my cock the way you clenched around my fingers.”

You felt your mind and body battle with themselves as he continued to trail the needle down your body while his fingers continued to work at you. The needle’s presence sent your body into fight or flight, but with nowhere to go, you became keenly aware of every sensation. You could hear the rumble in his voice and the feeling of Jonathan’s fingers inside of you seemed to be amplified, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm already.

“There we go,” he coaxed, “let the pleasure and fear blur together. Cum on my fingers like the good little slut you are while I’ve got a needle pressed against you, and maybe I’ll let you cum on my cock.”

Fuck, you knew there was something wrong with you, but you couldn’t care less. Jonathan’s dirty talk, the unrelenting rhythm of his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, and the presence of the needle heightening your senses caused your orgasm to hit you full force.

Your head fell back on the bed as you moaned out and you felt the needle press against your tied up arm. The pace of Jonathan’s fingers never faltered as he pushed you through your orgasm and let you ride out your high.

When he finally did remove them, your head was spinning and your breathing was heavy. It was the sound of his belt hitting the floor that grabbed your attention and caused you to look down at him.

“You have no idea how much control it took for me to not ruin our first session and drop the needle and go ahead and fuck you,” he said, stepping between your legs.

“Thought you said I was your toy? Sounds like that makes it your decision on when you fuck me,” you commented through the haze of your mind.

“It does,” he said, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds, “and I wanted to see the way you looked when you couldn’t decide if fear or lust was going to win out before I fucked every thought out of that pretty little head of yours.”

Whatever response you had was lost as he pushed his cock into you. Your jaw fell slack and a pathetic mix of a whine and moan filled the room as he filled every bit of you. His hands gripped your hips and he gave you just enough time to adjust to the way his cock felt inside of you before he was setting a brutal pace.

A symphony of his name and curses left your mouth and he seemed to revel in the way you sounded and looked beneath him.

“God damn,” he swore, “it’s like your cunt was made for me,” he said while his hand came down to rub at your clit, watching the way your back arched off the table.

“Please, Doctor,” you begged, not even sure what you were begging for.

He sped up the pace of his thrusts and removed his other hand from your hip to begin rolling your nipple in between his fingers, going back and forth between the two.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He taunted, “for me to tie you down and fuck you? For me to use you however I wanted?”

“Y-yes, Doctor,” you stuttered out between moans, feeling your orgasm creep up on you again.

“Such a good little toy. Getting off on being reminded of your place with me,” he chuckled, “Go ahead then. Cum on my cock and prove how much you want to be my little fuck toy.”

It didn’t take much longer for your back to arch off the table again, his fingers still rubbing at your clit in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

Once he was sure you had ridden out your high, Jonathan’s thrusts sped up and he began chasing his own, cumming inside you after only a moment longer.

The both of you took a couple moments to catch your breath and then he was pulling out of you. He undid your restraints and helped you to sit up, making sure you were okay before kissing you again.

“I meant what I said back at the asylum,” he said against your lips, “No one else.”

You shook your head the slightest bit, still kissing him in between his words, “I don’t want anyone else. I came to you with the idea for a reason.” You pulled away just enough to be able to look him in the eyes, a playful look crossing your face as you spoke again, “Besides, I can’t wait to see your reaction as you learn more of what I’m into if that was the reaction I got for something as simple as being tied up.”

Jonathan chuckled and shook his head slightly,

“You little minx,” he muttered, kissing you once more.

[sanzaibian]

Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m still in love. And it made me do some crazy stuff.

Let me talk to you about my first love. Unrequited, of course, but still, first love.

His name was Liam. Skinny, tall, handsome, you know how late middle-school crushes look like. He was sociable, unlike me, but we still did have the kind of deep discussions that I like having, about niche interests, walking back and forth the schoolyard. I was obsessed with him, letting my imagination run wild with scenarios involving him, ranging from seeing him out of school (shock horror ! … it was actually a big deal for me...) to being somehow abducted inside his body and living life as him, with him at the helm and me helping him in daily activities. I also imagined fantastic stories about him being a herald of a magical organization of which I was also part or to which he initiated me. I even wrote them, and hold dear to my heart those worlds I made involving me and Liam.

I even planned on marrying his sister just to be close to him, because I could of course not be in a relationship with him.

Oh, sorry, did I not mention that I was denying I was anything but straight at the time ? Sorry for the misunderstanding. But yes, the whole time I interacted with my first love, I thought he was just a very important friend. How shocking it was to find out just a few years later that I was indeed in love with him.

Sigh.

The problem is that it didn’t stop there, when life drew us to continue school in separate places. After that time, and even now, I see him in anyone looking anything like him. For example, take this guy :

It’s not him.

He’s older, and if I look more closely, I find more and more differences.

However, I look at him, and can only see Liam.

It drove me crazy. Those look-alikes didn’t all look alike, some being buff, some having some stubble, some even being quite short, but all sharing the same short hairstyle, and that unmistakable face.

I just… couldn’t move on, move on from a crush on a straight guy on which I never made any move. I tried finding other people to have crushes on, to fall in love with, perhaps even date, yet I failed at every step. Failed in seeing attractive men as anything more than just that, attractive, failed in meeting men with which to create meaningful relationship, failed in finding any place in the LGBT community.

And punctuating all of that, a slow but steady stream of Liam look-alikes were met in the street.

So don’t blame me if I finished by believing in my own fantasies, that we were in a magical world, with him seeking me to be a part of it, whence all of his appearances in the street. Plus, growing more and more isolated, who was there to bring me back to reality ? Certainly not the internet, as I sought out more and more obscure websites in the quest to understand what was happening to me.

It lead me first of all to psychological knowledge, most of which I have forgotten since then, then to occult, to erotica in a strange turn of events, and then, finally, to that one website that seemed to be the key to all my questions. It was on a weird Weibo post, that kind that leaves links to websites with passwords to open pirated content, that I first encountered. Thankfully, all of my yearning gave me enough frustration to study Chinese enough to read it with a dictionary on the side, so I was able to understand what that post was about.

At first I was skeptical. It was sketchy, plus what it promised was ludicrous… a simple app that would be able to answer any question with 100% accuracy, plus it claimed to use no AI. It also promised to get some “real experience of the answer”, whatever that may mean – assuming my translation of “实际的答案经历” is even correct.

However, at that point, I was desperate to get anything conclusive from this endeavor.

So I entered my question inside the machine, in the best of my poor Chinese, and asked “為什麼我遇到很多像Liam的人？” (Why do I meet a lot of people like Liam ?). Looking back, I should have written my question using simplified characters instead of traditional characters, it might have confused the app…

When I entered the question, it simply answered “谢谢您的问题！请等一下答案经验准备好了！” (Thank you for your question ! Please wait a bit for the experience of the answer to be prepared !). I felt like I was cheated on, even though I didn’t really expect much. At least give me a paywall to be angry at, but no, it was an empty sentence, giving me no catharsis for the long search for any answer to all the Liams I saw. Of why he was still sticking in my mind, of why I couldn’t move on properly.

At that point, it was already late, so, with no catharsis, I decided that this was just not worth it. I uninstalled the app, looking back likely also a mistake, and decided to clock out for the night.

I didn’t sleep well that night, moving a lot, and never able to completely enter the realm of dreams. Instead of plunging in a seemingly instant coma, I was slowly and painfully experiencing all the hallucinations of slumber, tense and sweating.

The next day, when I woke up, nothing felt right.

The bed didn’t feel right, the room didn’t feel right, the weight didn’t feel right, the hair didn’t feel right… even the morning wood didn’t feel right. Yet… there was something undeniably familiar to everything. As if it’s inside the uncanny valley between being what is known to me and what isn’t. I stood up, the height also didn’t feel right… I walked a bit dizzily, and though I could blame my recent waking for that, the way my weight was distributed was too strange to dismiss it on this basis.

So, as any good protagonist in the erotica stories I read in my futile quest, I headed for the bathroom. The house layout wasn’t what I remembered, yet it still felt familiar and easy to navigate, so I found my way to it.

And although I already expected it, all the clues pointing to this very fact, I was still shocked when I saw my reflection.

Let me tell you, nothing, nothing can prepare you for the experience of looking at a stranger in the mirror. Not even dysphoria, I tell you.

Because it was so unsettling, seeing the one thing that is supposed to always be familiar, that is supposed to only change little by little, so slowly enough that the human brain cannot process it changing, be so radically different. To not look like oneself, to not have even the same shape, as I was suddenly buff.

And to look like Liam.

I was unable to do anything but stand, bewildered, in front of the mirror, for quite a long while, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. However, finally, I snapped out of my inaction. I automatically reached for the gel and spiked my hair up, even though I never even touched hair gel in my entire life, before going back to my bedroom to find my computer.

All I found was a laptop, but it sufficed. I go little by little to find back the trace of that Weibo post – installing a Chinese keyboard at the same time – but find little luck. Although I did find some familiar-looking webpages and links, I had a hard time finding anything…

Then, suddenly, it was 10AM, and I remembered that I was supposed to go to the gym. And that I didn’t even take the time to prepare my protein shake… God, I was so taken by my sudden transformation that I didn’t even think about the essential !

It took me until I was greeted by the gym receptionist as “Liam” to notice that I wasn’t actually supposed to work out, only the body I was in was.

It shook me, but not enough to forget to answer the receptionist as I always do. I put away my things in the locker room, and made my way to the machines, performing a well-oiled routine, going from one machine to the other automatically. It was good that everything came to me this naturally, as otherwise I would have found myself silly, standing in front of the machines wondering how they worked.

As I was working out, I was thinking on this whole… experience. Quite clearly, I am not who I used to be, nor where I used to be, yet I was acting perfectly reasonably inside the role of the one who is called Liam – that is not, to my disappointment, the Liam I knew. I only look like him. It seems that, somehow, the Liam I inhabit and I merged, letting me insert myself in the life of that Liam seamlessly, yet still keeping my shock, my interests and my wishes intact. As if I was living the life of the one I had taken the body of, only really acting like myself when the Liam I now am has no obligations.

Coming back “home”, I continued my search, and found the original app that triggered this whole thing. Yet, I couldn’t find a way to reverse what it had done, not within the app, nor inside the documentation, plus the app wouldn’t grand any other answer but “谢谢您使用我们应用，请跟朋友转转！” (Thanks for using our app, please share a bit with friends !).

So I guess I now have to live inside this alien body that is in all manners similar to my first love, even in name. I mean, there are worse fates, especially as this Liam thankfully also seems to be into men, yet I cannot help but feel unhappy about this arrangement. Although I now partly am the Liam I inhabit, I can’t help but feel like I have robbed him of his life, forcing him to sit at the back of my mind, experiencing his life in the third person. Plus, I can’t possibly get used to not being me, and especially not to looking just like the Liam of my memories.

Which lead me to my realization that motivated me to write about this.

The reason why I still find Liam everywhere in the streets (even now, inside the body of one of his look-alikes) isn’t that he has facial features rare enough to be noticeable, yet common enough to be shared by a big number of people. No, it’s the fact that I’m still thinking of him, which makes my brain look for people who look like him, whence seeing the resemblances with the Liam I knew rather than all the differences. And why do I still think of him ? The answer seems to be that I still haven’t moved on, that I’m still in love with my first love.

However, now that his face is the one that is reflected in the mirror...

Am I ever going to be able to move on and find love ?

[dira333]

Behind the scenes of a Tumblr Writer - Tag Game

Hey there, I love behind the scenes and since this is something that's rarely talked about, let me start the chain... if you feel uncomfortable with a question, just skip it. You can add some if you want as well.

Started writing: I wrote my first Harry Potter fanfic at age 10. Started posting around 15,16 years old. I'm now 31, so...

Started blogging: I started on a German fanfiction site around 2010/11 I think. Might have been earlier too, but back then I was mostly reading, no posting. I really started when I got into One Direction (very late, tbh)

Followers: Currently at 961, which is wild to me. I don't even know that many people IRL. I convince myself that half of them are bots tbh, so I don't freak out all the time.

Communication: The people I talk to regularly are: a few writers who answered after I constantly reblogged and commented on their works and a few people who commented and reblogged my work. Writing and blogging on here can be pretty lonely, depending on your personality and the time you're active (I'm from Europe and a lot of my followers seem to be living in Northern America, so there's the Timezone thing) ... And I found that the best way to strike a conversation is to reblog, comment, and to not be shy. I do wish I got more asks, though....

Likes: I actually filter them out. I have 793 original posts up at the moment. It doesn't give me anything to know how many likes a fic has other than to tell me which characters are liked more than others or maybe that one fic does especially well. My activity only shows me comments, asks, reblogs with tags, and answers to my own asks. I live for the tags and the comments.

Requests: I love talking to people about ideas. That's how I started the plotbunny game because I have so many ideas and so little time. And sometimes an idea just doesn't want to be written out fully. Requests are fun because YAY, I get some mail... but then I freak out because I don't really know how to write this NOW and then I freak out because it's been a week already, two weeks, wait, two months? I'd rather have suggestions where people tell me vague things like "I'd love to read something about this side character" or "Have you ever considered this character with a soulmate trope"? because then I don't have the feeling of failing the request when I write it a little bit differently.

Writing: I am a fast writer. I know that's one of my talents. I can churn out a oneshot of 1k words in less than an hour. People read slower than I write. That can suck sometimes because you've just posted this and you want to know what people are thinking but they're not as fast as you are. I do have a lot of ideas. I want to write constantly but my brain doesn't always want to. I am trying to respect that.

There are also certain things that I just feel wrong writing. I cannot write anything suggestive (I also don't like reading it) and everything past that gives me panic attacks. I can hardly write mean characters and jealousy feels so wrong to me that I cannot write it. I've also overdone it with the soulmark trope and now I feel like everything I write about it feels lifeless.

I write best in the mornings before going to work, but I don't have much time there. I don't need special music (but it helps), but I need to have at least some energy left and at best, no distractions. But I have been writing for over 20 years, so I will say experience helps a lot.

Tagging: @revasserium @shoulmate @lemurzsquad @screamin-abt-haikyuu @toomanygoldfish @satorisoup @emmyrosee @reverie-starlight @alienaiver and @writingsofanomnivore and everyone else who wants to join

[farfromstrange]

Mismatched Bridesmaid | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 2 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Deciding to go to your old college roommate's wedding turns into a bad idea when you suddenly have to function as a bridesmaid until you're paired with a very handsome groomsman.

Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "good girl", One-Night Stand, shameless flirting, kind of "horny at first sight", so cheesy it might make you hate cheese

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I was wondering why this didn't post until I saw that I hit "save draft" instead of schedule, so this may come on time for some and too late for others, but I'm still awake, so it counts as the 15th. Also, when I wrote this it was after hinting at it on here, and I was excited at first, but I'm not too happy with it now because it's just silly and falls a little flat, in my opinion. This is why I went back in and edited a hell of a lot, adding some things, etc. Nevertheless, I promised to clear out the vault for this event, so this is it. I got inspired by seeing the She-Hulk clips when the episode with Matty came out. It may or may not be noticeable. We're also working with the Nelson, Murdock & Page narrative. Enjoy!

You are not made for white-veil occasions. 

While weddings, in their essence, symbolize unity while covering different facets of romantic beauty, they are also inherently stressful for nearly everyone involved in the proceedings. Over the years of adulthood, you’ve found that weddings tend to end in disaster when you attend—and you are not particularly fond of engaging in drama.

When your old college roommate sent you an invitation to her wedding in June, you considered responding with no. You’ve been close for a few years, but then you graduated, found separate careers, and then never talked again. You weren’t sure why she would send you an invitation until you called the number on the back of the card and you began catching up. She told you that she wanted to invite you because you were a vital part of her early twenties, and it reminded you that you are both adults and you have both grown beyond what you thought possible, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her that you couldn’t make it to her wedding. Instead, you told her that you wouldn’t miss it for the world. That answer though seemed to have turned destiny against you. 

You were excited when you arrived at the chapel this morning, but as soon as your foot touched the holy ground, everything went wrong. Maybe it is because you’re an atheist and God hates you, or maybe Karma just really fucking loves toying with you. Either way, when your friend’s maid of honor—also one of the few people you hung out with during your wild college days—came up to you, looking pale and panicked, you knew that the curse you always bring to weddings was only continuing to wreak havoc. 

She said to you, “One of the girls got into a car accident on her way here. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, just a broken wrist, but that means we are one bridesmaid short. I need someone to step in before Janet finds out and cuts off my head for ruining her wedding day,” and she was deadly serious about it, too.

You knew that it was a mistake to come to this wedding, especially without a date or a plus-one to fall back on. 

You were so focused on marveling at the beautiful white and golden decorations living the aisle, fantasizing about the day you might be walking down one of those that you didn’t think anything could go wrong since everything had been going so right. You should have known better than to trust that treacherous feeling of excitement that you made sure to nurture before breakfast so you could enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward without making it dependent on the open bar—although that fact did help.

Instead of dreaming about free drinks though, you’re being squeezed into a satin green dress with a low cut in the front, and someone you don’t know is slathering burgundy lipstick onto your lips. They are purposely trying to turn you into a copy of all the other bridesmaids, and you hate it. You hate it so much you get the sudden urge to scratch your eyes out and tear the skin off your lips. 

Janet, the maid of honor, comes back up to you. She’s aged at least ten years since you last saw her when she pulled you away from the aisle. You feel for her. The entire weight of this wedding rests on her shoulders. 

She eyes you, checking your outfit, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank God, you’re hot,” she mutters. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it. 

“Thank you?” you answer awkwardly. 

“Alright.” She fixes the corners of your lipstick. “We need to pair you with a different guy than Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Drive was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Your looks don’t match. You’ll get Kathy’s partner,” she says. “And we need to line up, like, now because shit is happening in five minutes, not a second later. We can’t give Bridezilla the time to kill us all.”

With a frown, you ask, “Is she aware at all of what’s happening?” 

Janet shakes her head. “No, and it’s better this way. Trust me.”

You stop questioning her. She knows what she’s doing. 

When she guides you outside to line up, you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know the groom, and you don’t know his friends. You’re here on your own, and now you’re part of a bridal party that you are also barely familiar with, wearing a dress that you were forced into for the sake of aesthetics. You hate when something is reduced to aesthetics because beauty has many facets, and you would have walked down that aisle with anyone as long as you could get it over with. 

Until you see him. Strikingly dark hair in a perfectly cut tuxedo that underlines the muscles hiding underneath the fabric. His eyes are hidden behind round, red glasses that reflect the sunlight coming in through the already stained glass of the chapel’s windows. In his hands, he’s holding a white cane, leaning his entire weight on it as he waits. And he waits for none other than you. 

Janet paired you with the most beautiful man on this planet, you can’t deny that. The way he stands there, his sharp jawline on full display—he looks ethereal. Just looking at him makes you sweat, and you’re starting to panic. What if she made a mistake? You can’t do this. You can’t—

“Matt,” she says and shoves you beside him into the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen. 

Janet introduces you, and then she’s gone. She pushes you into the cold water, forcing you to learn how to swim. 

He tilts his head in your direction. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his voice resembles the purr of a black cat as it reverberates, but his grin reminds you of the Devil himself. 

Fuck. Me. 

You either did something very wrong to land here, or you did everything right. 

“Hi,” you stammer. One look at him, and the blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face is burning. 

He offers you his hand. “I’m Matt,” he says as if Janet didn’t already expose that to you.

Still, you take his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. “And I’m not supposed to be here.” Mentally, you curse yourself for being so stupid.

Matt chuckles. Even his laugh sounds bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. “I, uh, gathered as much.”

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m not—this is really weird. I don’t even know what to say.” You pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, maybe that will make it less embarrassing.

His features soften. There is no judgment. You can’t see his eyes, but there is a certain softness about him that throws you off guard, but you no longer feel like you’re drowning. “If it helps, I’m only here because I helped the groom graduate law school by writing his essays, and he feels like he owes me, so…I also don’t want to be here,” he says, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses. You get a small glimpse of his eyes. They’re hazel. Beautiful. He has an aura that draws you in; it’s not just his physical beauty that strikes you.

This man—this magnetic force of a man called Matt—is a stranger. He’s a man you were paired with to walk down the aisle even though you were never meant to be a bridesmaid in this wedding in the first place. So many things are happening to and around you at once, and you can feel the flames starting to burn and sizzle away at your skin. 

You should pull yourself together. You shouldn’t stare at him. You shouldn’t listen to your heart which is hammering against your ribcage. But the emotions are already running high and you can’t possibly focus on anything else. He’s like a lifeline to you.

And God, you want him to put those calloused hands on your skin and take you to bed. But that’s not something to think about in a place of God. On the day of someone else’s wedding. Except that you can’t think of anyone else, and his proximity isn’t making the situation any better for you.

Another blush threatens to take over your features. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a firm. Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

“Here in New York?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, yeah. Me and my associates just reopened our doors to the public after a rough year.”

“Oh, that’s...cool. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. And what do you do, if I may ask?”

His interest takes you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer his question. You tell him your profession, and how you met the bride, and he listens without another word. No man has ever paid you this much attention before.

Though Janet meant it when she said that you will have to start walking in exactly five minutes, not a second longer. She passed by everyone, handing out bouquets. Green with hints of red and gold. It fits the theme. They’re beautiful, but the flowers within the bouquet become a problem when she hands you your own set. 

“Janet,” you stop her from leaving. “I can’t take these.”

“The fuck you can’t,” she retorts. 

“Seriously, I can’t. I’m allergic to Jasmines. I’ll sneeze.”

She glares at you. “Then fucking hold it.”

There is no arguing with her, and she passes by you to continue putting everyone in their places. You stare down at the bouquet, your nose already starting to itch. The smell alone is enough to make you nauseous.

To your surprise, Matt reaches for the flowers. “May I?” he asks, but he has already grabbed a hold of them.

“Sure,” you answer, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Hold this.” He guides the top of his cane into your hand.

His fingers feel along the red ribbon. He takes a whiff. There are so many scents that would be overwhelming even to someone without heightened senses due to a lacking fifth one, so you’re even more surprised when he finds the Jasmines without a struggle. He traces the petals just to make sure, and he quickly pulls the flowers out of the bouquet, tightening the ribbon around the now smaller girth in the process.

Tossing them behind one of the pillars in the corridor, he hands them back to you. “Here,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Words elude you. 

“Are you allergic to anything else?” The question is valid, considering you’re still not making a move to take the bouquet from him. 

You exhale a shaky breath, reaching for the flowers, and answer without missing another beat, “Weddings.”

That elicits a giggle from him. The sound is enough to make your heart melt. Does he know what he’s doing to you?

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors stops you both dead in your tracks.

Your entire body recoils when the bride’s voice rings out, echoing, “Who the fuck mismatched my bridesmaids?”

A hand rests on your bicep, and you don’t even have to look down to know that it is Matt’s. He’s the only one standing to your right, anyway. He squeezes as though to let you know that you won’t lose your head, but you’re not so sure now that your college roommate is glaring at you in a white dress that reminds you of a pastry, and her eyes are full of fury. He can’t see it, but he would cower in fear if he did.

Thankfully, Janet pulls her aside, explaining the situation to her. 

“She what?!” she screeches. “On my wedding day? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, because car accidents respect timing when it comes to special occasions,” Janet counters.

You snort. Matt beside you digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but even he can’t hide his amusement.

“Oh, snap,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Shots have been fired,” he says.

“I think we’re witnessing a double homicide.”

“I’m not a very credible witness. I can only describe how it sounded, unfortunately.”

Your snort turns into a laugh. The bride’s head snaps around, and you go quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“If she decides to throw a punch at your pretty face,” Matt’s breath tickles your ear, “I can be your attorney and sue her ass.”

This time, you’re conscious enough to slap a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your reaction. “How do you know I’m pretty?” you whisper back between little giggles.

He shrugs with a smirk of his own. “I just know.”

He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you have no choice but to submit.

Janet manages to bring some calm back to her friend eventually, and then it’s showtime. Right on the second, it’s time for you to walk down the aisle, and you have never been happier about a strict schedule and someone adamant about keeping that schedule for the sake of all of your lives.

Your roommate has always been a very dominant personality, so you’re aware of the things she can do when she doesn’t get what she wants. 

An 80s pop ballad begins to play. You make sure to match your pace to everyone else but also make sure that you’re not running away from your partner.

You may have been a mismatched bridesmaid, but you can’t complain about the company. 

Against all odds, the service is beyond beautiful. It’s not often you get to stand so close when two people who seem to truly love each other make a vow to be there for each other for the rest of their lives. You can’t help but shed a tear. They complement each other perfectly. Is that ever in the cards for you? Will you ever be able to have what they have? Or will you always feel like you’re not worthy of this kind of unconditional love and endless devotion—of someone wanting to spend the rest of their life with you?

You look over at Matt. The hint of a cross necklace is starting to peek out underneath his dress shirt. Of course, he’s Catholic. 

He carries himself with such a grace that puts everyone else in this room to shame. Does he know that you’re staring at him? You hope not.

After the ceremony, you lose sight of Matt in the masses. He doesn’t owe you a goodbye, but you still feel a little disappointed when you return to the dressing room and finally peel the satin dress off of your very sweaty skin. 

At the party afterward, he’s still nowhere to be found. You give up. Not that you want to spend the evening with him anyway, but you kind of do. You drown your sorrows in a glass of vodka cranberry and a bowl of olives. They taste like rotten meat, but there are too many people by the buffet for your liking. The last thing you want to do is mingle and get asked stupid questions by people you don’t even know. So, you stay back, and you watch from afar as everyone is having the time of their lives not so far away from you, but far enough for you to breathe.

“And here I thought weddings were supposed to be a joyous occasion,” Matt pipes up beside you, and you twirl around in your chair to face him with wide eyes.

You didn’t expect to see him back here. “Hi!” you exclaim. “What’re you—I thought you left.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just had to take care of some things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.”

Folding his cane, Matt lowers himself down on one of the chairs beside you and orders himself a beer with the bartender. “Let’s just say that I have an important court case coming up and I had to make a call.”

You take another sip from your drink. “That sounds a lot more exciting than my life, to be honest.”

“You are sulking at a wedding. Thinking about an ex?”

“More like life in general.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal fear of dying alone.” He raises his bottle to yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

A laugh escapes you. “That was cynical,” you say.

“And you’re not?”

He beats you at your own damn game, and he finally gets that smile he has been vying for. 

“Are you smiling?” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Maybe.” But the smile is audible in your voice, giving you away.

Matt smirks, nodding his head. “Good girl.” 

The sharp vodka runs down the wrong pipe. You cough. Did he just—

He did.

He pats your back, and his hand lingers a lot longer than it should. He looks so smug. Pleased with himself. That part of him is stupidly attractive to you, even though you would usually hate such cockiness in any other man. But Matt isn’t like any other man.

You apologize for your reaction, but he should be the one apologizing to you for throwing you off your game. What is he doing? You can’t read him. You wish you could because that would make this so much easier, but that’s probably the point. He wants to tease you. He wants to mess with your head. He’s a dick. A fucking attractive dick that could tell you to do just about anything and you in your flustered state would go along with it without hesitations. That’s the kind of control he has over you, and you just met. It feels like a twisted form of destiny, but you can’t quite believe it. Yet.

“Do you always do that?” you dare to ask.

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests?”

A playful smirk plays on his lips.  

“It’s been known to happen,” says Matt.

You poke your tongue against the soft tissue of your cheek. “Cheeky,” you murmur.

“That’s also been known to happen.”

“What, being cheeky with—”

“—with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests? Yes.” He’s catching on quickly.

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, that.”

“I do have to say though,” he adds, and for a second you think he might ruin the joke instead of playing it out further, but Matt is full of surprises, “Out of all the mismatched bridesmaids I’ve met in my thirty-something years of, um, living, you’re my favorite so far.”

With your hand, you start fanning your face rather dramatically. “I feel honored,” you say. 

Again, he chuckles. “You should be.”

“Why, because you’re so irresistible?”

“I was going to say that I don’t like a lot of people because, you know, they’re dicks, but that works too.”

“Wow.” You take another sip. The liquor burns its way down your sore esophagus. “You have balls, man.”

“Is that a problem?” he counters with a question.

The answer comes naturally. “No,” you say. “I like it.”

“Good.” Hearing you clink the ice cubes against your empty glass by swirling it around, Matt concludes that you need a refill. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks.

The question sounds so innocent, but the look on his face renders you speechless. His hand inches dangerously close to yours on the counter, his knee brushing yours, and the heat shoots straight to your neglected cunt. 

Fuck this.

“You could do that, or we could skip that part and just…you know.”

One brush of your hand against his thigh, that’s all it takes for him to know. 

Pushing you through the door to his apartment a few minutes later, his lips are on you. The door falls shut with a loud bang, and he presses you against the wall of his hallway. 

His lips feel like a silky cloud of lewdness. The way he kisses you is utterly erotic. Your lips part in a delicious moan that he swallows with a grunt of his own. He swallows it all, shoving his tongue into the tight confines of your mouth, and exploring every inch he can reach. He tastes you. He consumes you. 

His hands desperately search for an ounce of bare skin. He’s tugging at your clothes, sliding and tearing them aside. Once his fingers finally brush over the bare skin of your stomach, he melts. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your leg hooks around his waist. You can’t wait. He has ignited a fire within you that no one has been able to light before. He’s touching you with a precision that puts your former lovers to shame. He’s paying attention to your every breath and heartbeat, and with every touch, he asks, “May I?” 

You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Once he has successfully removed the bottom half of your clothes, he falls to his knees. He is a sight to behold. The disarray of colors that shines into his apartment illuminates his face, bathing it in a selection of hues that bring out his best features. 

Matt has yet to take off his glasses, and you take the opportunity to tear them away from his face. You’re gentle though. You ask him, “May I?” mirror the question he has been asking you throughout the night, and after a thick swallow, he nods.

You caress his cheek as you remove his glasses, and when you finally see his hazel eyes in all of their glory, you have to bow down to capture his lips in a soft kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So fucking beautiful, Matt.”

He whimpers. You could have sworn to have imagined it, but when you stroke his cheek with such a gentleness it almost makes him recoil in anguish, you know that you didn’t imagine the sound from his lips. You kiss it away. You kiss all of his insecurities away. You want him to feel as good as he is making you feel. You don’t know him, but you want to get to know him, and if he’s ready to surrender himself to you, you are more than ready to do the same for him. He can feel that with every brush of your fingertips and every kiss you deliver to his plump lips that taste like heaven and hell in itself.

Your words don’t leave him cold. His cock is aching in his pants—you take note of his impressionable size, which only makes you more excited for what’s to come—but he refuses to take it out. Not until you’re fully satisfied. To be honest, you could come just from staring at him on his knees in front of you, looking like he would lay the world to your feet and kill everyone who has ever dared to hurt you, but that is not enough for him. 

He needs the experience. Feeling your skin, tasting you, and breathing in all facets of your natural scent mixed with the artificial one from your shampoo. He can’t get enough of it. Of you. Of everything about and within you. He’s as attracted to your body as he is consumed by your soul. You’ve got him in a deadlock, but he would never complain about that.

You gasp when Matt grabs your thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Your panties are gone within seconds, torn on the floor somewhere. You’re completely bare to him. 

You want to warn him that you didn’t shave, but he doesn’t care. 

Before you know it, he has flattened his tongue against your pussy, and he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out, reaching for support on the wall behind you.

He flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, testing the waters before he sucks it into his mouth. 

His grip on your thigh becomes bruising. Matt eats you out like he has been starving for years and you are his first and last meal. He sucks on your clit, and he fucks you with his tongue. Your pussy is the altar he worships at. Your arousal is his holy water. He dives deeper and deeper into the wetness between your thighs, and he moans loudly when you pull at his hair.

“Fuck, Matt–” You’re clawing at whatever you can find. It feels so good. You’re higher than you have ever been.

The sound of his mouth working your slick folds toward eternal bliss is obscene and utterly sinful. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs. The pain grounds you in the here and now, making you focus on the tidal wave that is about to crash into you and tear you to shreds. 

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm takes over, and it takes you into another dimension. You come with a shout of his name. It’s nothing short of explosive. The orgasm drags on through his mouth on your clit, relentlessly sucking until the nerves jump, and you’re begging him to stop. 

His face glistens. With every kiss up your body, Matt marks you. By the time he has reached your quivering lips, he still tastes like you.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale. Without his shoulders to hold onto, you would probably lose your footing. “You’re crazy,” is all you can say. 

He smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

“Regret coming home with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He lifts you with ease. “Then I’m going to make it worth your while.”

And when your back hits the soft mattress and silk sheets of his bed, you don’t doubt that he is going to make good on his promise. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama