#y'all can make demands when you PAY US!

[petiolata]

For me it's not the self-conscious part of my brain. My creations are not a product for consumption. I will talk about my works' flaws and my struggles with making them, those are parts of my creative process and I like to share those with others, and I like when others artists and writers do the same.

I don't have to pretend to be perfect, or that my work is perfect. Nor do my summaries, notes, tags, have to be designed with maximum appeal to a consumer.

I understand that some people have a problem with self-deprecation and shame about their works, but not everyone discussing the flaws in their work is having an unhealthy mental process at play. Some of us are objective in our observations, or at the very least, our observations are not being driven by negative emotions.

I would not advise people to pretend they think their work is good, if they don't. There's not really a reason to fake confidence unless you have a concrete goal it serves, like getting accepted into a college or job, or better selling products. Outside of that, it serves no purpose in itself.

Now, actually changing the way you think about or view your work--that can be good. But simply hiding the bad thoughts is doing just that--hiding them, sweeping them under the rug. They still exist.

you'll get the urge as an artist or a writer to say out loud the things you're worried about "the proportions are off" "kind of out of character" "i'm not good at summaries" "didn't get as much detail as i wanted" "i made a mistake and here's how" and that's the self-conscious part of your brain telling you "it's bad and if you don't tell them you know it's bad then they'll think you're stupid" but you've got to ignore that little voice and pretend you think it's good or else that little voice is going to ruin your life

[katsu28]

oscar's a grouch (or is he?)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: to your knowledge, oscar piastri really doesn't like you. but a night out in monaco makes you realize that maybe you don't know oscar's feelings towards you quite as well as you think you do. (3.7k)

warnings: swearing, unwanted advances from a man (not oscar, don't worry), a smidge of landoscar if u squint really hard

a/n: idk about y'all but this summer break is killing me 😭 i just wanna see my boys on track again is that too much to ask. anyways here's some oscar bc he's been giving literal crumbs lately (except for casually mentioning his broken fucking rib)

You’re not even sure what you're celebrating tonight. 

All you know is Lando called you a few hours ago demanding you come to some club with him and a few of his other driver friends, and who were you to deny yourself a fun night out? Especially one where you can put all your drinks on Lando’s tab. (You’re not a gold digger—Lando refuses to let you pay for most things when you go out because he, and you quote, ‘makes a shit ton of money, so why not use it’.) 

Now you’re here, sipping the last of your third (fourth maybe?) drink of the night until there’s nothing but ice. 

The music blasting through the club is so loud you feel the bass thumping in your chest, and it only gets louder when you venture through the crowd in search of the group you came with.

Somehow you’d gotten separated, but it’s really not too hard to locate them. All you have to do is look for a very tall, very polite looking British man a head taller than everyone else, and then you’ve found George Russell.

He spots you too, beckoning you over into the VIP section with a cool nod of his head. All the other drivers are around too—Carlos winks at you over the rather brightly patterned mini umbrella in his drink, Max tips his glass at you as you make your way by. 

Charles and Oscar sit together on a sofa further into the section, seeming deep in conversation, but look up as you pass them. The Monegasque reaches up to give you a fist bump, and Oscar just blinks at you, taking a measured swig of his beer. You fight the urge to sigh at his standoffishness. 

Over the years, Lando’s friends have quickly become your friends too, but Oscar Piastri is an enigma you have yet to crack. You know he’s on the quieter side because Lando had warned you of it before you’d met Oscar for the first time, but you weren’t expecting completely and totally icy.

The Oscar that Lando always talks about excitedly is an entirely different person than the Oscar you’ve become familiar with. 

It seems like he can barely look you in the eye whenever you try to make small talk with him, and you don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him because he always finds a way to slip away before you can even try to make a genuine connection with him. 

What makes things even better (read: worse) is that despite all that, you’ve grown a small crush on Oscar. You’re not sure how, and you’re not sure why, but that doesn’t make your feelings any less real. You’ve accepted that this is just the way things will always be with him, you with a pesky crush and him not wanting anything to do with you. 

You find Lando quickly, bopping around to the beat of the song playing without a care in the world. He looks like he’s having the time of his life, and when he spots you, he positively beams, waving wildly at you. 

“Hey, you!” He exclaims. “How are you? I love you!” 

“I love you too!” You chuckle. “I was gonna get another drink, d’you want anything?” 

“What?” He yells, brows furrowing. “You’re gonna dye your hair pink?”

“Another drink, dummy! Do you want another drink?” You make sure he’s looking at you this time, over-enunciating your words, so he’ll understand them. He narrows his eyes at you in the dim lighting but gets the gist of your question, perking up at the possibility of yet another drink. 

“More vodka shots, baby! One for you, one for me! No, one for everyone!” He giggles, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

His movement is so enthusiastic he nearly tips the two of you over, stumbling on his feet clumsily. You’re quick to push him back into an upright position, grimacing with effort as you trudge over to the nearest sofa and deposit him onto the seat unceremoniously. 

“Oh, this is nice,” He sighs, stroking the leather dreamily. “I should—I should get one of these for my place. D’you think they’d let me take it home?” 

“I really don’t think so, Lan,” You reply, amused. “Stay here. Don’t leave this sofa.” 

Lando groans, tilting his head back against the cushions. “Okay, mum. God!” 

Right, so maybe he doesn’t need those extra shots after all. 

You shoot him one more stern look before leaving him behind and heading for the bar, quietly tasking Carlos with making sure Lando doesn’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. 

There’s an empty spot at the bar when you approach, and you slide in, fingers tapping on the countertop idly as you wait for the bartender to finish up other drinks. 

“Hey.” 

You glance to your left to see a man you don’t recognize, smiling at you.

“Hi.” You say back, pressing your lips into a polite smile. You’re hoping that’ll be the end of the conversation, because you’re not really in the mood to be talking to someone you don’t know when all you’re trying to do is order something. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a club like this?” His eyes rake over you from head to toe as he says it, shamelessly checking you out with a glint in his eye that makes you feel dirty. 

You take a small, calculated step backward, and much to your dismay, he takes that as an invitation to inch forward. “I’m with a group of friends.” 

“Are they all as attractive as you?” He must think he’s being smooth, but it just makes you even more uncomfortable. 

“Pretty sure they’re not your type,” You reply flatly. “Unless you’re into dudes.” 

The man’s nostrils flare, like you’re accusing him of something absurd. “I’m not. I’ve only dated girls. Really hot girls.” 

“Uh…good for you? I don’t really—” 

“What’s your name? I bet it’s something sexy.” 

“Y’know, my friends are probably wondering where I am, so I’m just gonna—” 

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’m just trying to get to know you,” He drawls, stroking clammy fingers over the back of your hand. You yank it away, reaching up to adjust the strap of your top just so he wasn’t touching you anymore. Maybe a little bit harsh, but the vibe you’re getting from him isn’t good at all. 

“I have a boyfriend,” You reply stiffly. It’s a boldfaced lie, but you're hoping you sound convincing enough to get this guy off your case. He’s starting to make you nervous. 

He takes an overdramatic look at your surroundings before focusing back on you, shrugging. “I don’t see one.” 

As if the universe is presenting you with a way out, you spot Oscar walking by at that very second, and before you can think you're grabbing his hand, tugging him towards you. He comes willingly, but looks slightly confused as you tuck yourself close to him.

He’s definitely not your first choice, but right now you don't think you can afford to be picky. At least it's someone you know. 

You pop up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, lips almost pressed to his cheek as you whisper, “Please play along.”

His eyes flick between you and your unwanted conversation partner, and for a moment you think he might blow your cover, but he slides an arm around you after you turn back around, resting his hand on the small of your back. 

You force yourself to ignore the effect it has on you, instead opting to press a little more into his side. His torso is firm under your trembling hands, tense if anything, but the steady rise and fall of his level breathing provides comfort. 

“We got a problem here, mate?” Oscar’s voice sounds more serious than you've ever heard it, and when you look up at him, he looks downright scary.  He towers over both you and the guy you're desperately trying to get rid of, brow furrowed, jaw set. You’re glad that look has never been aimed at you.

The guy shifts nervously on his feet, but still holds his ground. Not a good idea, anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that. “No problems, just trying to have a friendly conversation.” 

“Doesn’t look very friendly to me. Looks like you’re bothering my girlfriend.” 

“Dunno what to tell you, mate. We were just chatting, weren’t we, sweetheart?” 

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, feeling safe enough to do so tucked under Oscar’s arm like you are right now. This guy might be a fucking creep, but he’s not stupid enough to go up against Oscar. “No.” 

He glowers at you, and you feel Oscar’s palm come around, curling around your waist protectively. “Seems like that’s settled then. I reckon you should leave now.” Oscar’s tone leaves absolutely no room for discussion.

Is it wrong that you find it hot? 

“Fine. Don’t need to waste my time on bitches anyways.” 

Oscar stiffens. He moves forward like he’s about to throw a punch, but you’re quicker, splaying your palm over his very sturdy chest to stop him before he does anything rash. You don’t think it’ll go over too well with McLaren higher ups if they learn that one of their drivers got into a fight at a club. 

“He’s not worth it, Osc,” You say softly. He looks down at you, sees the look in your eyes, and his posture relaxes just a little bit. You’re not sure how long the two of you hold each other’s gaze, but when you finally tear your eyes away from his, the guy is long gone. 

Only then do you step away from Oscar, straightening yourself out as much as you can given how things could’ve ended had he not been there to save your ass. He steps away too. With the guy no longer around, there’s no reason for you to be that close together. 

“You alright?” He mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. Even in the dim lighting of the club, you can see how red his cheeks are. 

“Yeah. Fine. That guy was just really freaking me out.” 

“Are you sure? That you’re okay, I mean. ‘Cause yeah, that guy was a creep.” 

“Total creep,” You agree, bobbing your head. “But I’m sure. I’m, uh, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not been there, so…thank you. I know it was probably a little hard for you, but thanks anyways.” 

That last part was likely not necessary, but you’re a smidge tipsy right now. You’ll blame your loose lips on the alcohol. 

Oscar’s brow pinches in the middle, head tilting in confusion. “What?” 

“Pretending to be my boyfriend. Pretending to like me.” 

“Why would that be hard for me?” 

“Uh, I dunno, maybe ‘cause you don’t.” 

“You—wait, you think I don’t like you?” Oscar looks truly befuddled at your insinuation, and you frown, because from your side of things, it’s pretty damn clear. 

“I’m not, like, upset or hurt, or anything. You have a right to dislike whoever you want, I don’t care,” You shrug, craning your neck to look for the bartender. 

“It’s not true.” 

You hum absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his words. Where was that damn bartender? You need that drink, now. Oscar’s fingers wrap around your forearm loosely, but tight enough to grab your attention again. “What?” 

“I don’t…not like you.” 

“I said I don’t care, Oscar. You don’t have to try and make me feel better. It’s fine,” You assure him. You really wish he’d stop pushing the subject. “Just drop it, yeah? Thanks for the save, you can go back to the group now.” 

He regards you blankly for a long few seconds, then he opens his mouth, and just when you think he’s about to say something, it snaps shut. Then he pivots on his heel and starts to walk away. You roll your eyes, turning back to the bar. After all this, you definitely need another drink. Preferably a strong one. 

Maybe you’ll get those shots Lando wanted after all. 

The bartender finally spots you and you sigh in relief, glad and ready to finally get what you came for, but before you can get a word out, you’re being dragged away by the hand. 

You nearly scream, your mind jumping to the worst conclusion before your gaze lands on the same broad shoulders, the same head of brown hair that had just left you not seconds ago. It’s Oscar pulling you through the crowd, and even though you’re beyond relieved, you’re also confused and a little bit pissed off. 

“What’re you—hey! Oscar!” You have to shout over the pulsing music, but either he can’t hear you or he’s choosing to ignore you, because he doesn’t stop. 

He muscles through the crowd with surprising ease with you stumbling along behind him until you’re outside the club, in some sort of private patio area. There’s no one else out here and you’re glad for it, because you have half a mind to yell at him.

Oscar drops your hand, running his fingers through his hair, and when he looks up, you detect confliction in those big brown eyes of his. It almost derails your thought process, but you scowl. 

“What is your problem?” You snap, folding your arms over your chest angrily. 

“You think I don’t like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This again? Fucking hell, I told you to forget about it, Oscar. I meant that.” 

“No, I’m not gonna—you said it, so you obviously meant it. I wanna know why,” He insists. “Why do you think I don’t like you?” 

“Maybe because you haven’t exactly given me anything else to go off of? You always brush me off when I try to talk to you, and when I do get you to have a conversation with me, you can barely look me in the eye. And I swear, it’s like you find every excuse to not be around me.” 

You can’t resist the urge to allow a slightly bitter sounding laugh escape you because, fuck, no matter how many times you tell yourself that you don’t care what Oscar thinks of you, that you don’t give a crap about how it looks like he’s only this way with you, you do care. 

You care so much it makes you want to scream into the void. You shouldn’t care, but you do. 

“So you can say that it’s not true, you can tell me I’m wrong all you want, but I’m just telling it as I see it.” 

Oscar blinks at you again in that way he always does when you talk, the way that makes you want to smack him upside the head but also kiss him senseless too, just to see if he’d react differently. 

“I’m an idiot,” He says. You press your lips together. There won’t be any denying that fact from you. 

He groans, tipping his back towards the sky. “I’m an idiot. It’s not because I don’t like you. It’s—” He pauses, sighing. Crossing his arms, uncrossing them, weighing his options. “It’s because I do like you. A lot. I like you to the point where I don’t know how to act around you without the fear I might do or say something stupid, and then you’ll think I’m a dickhead.” 

“So you thought completely icing me out was…you not being a dickhead?” 

He wrinkles his nose, like he's just realized what his actions must’ve looked like to an outside party. “Oh. That’s not what I meant to….fuck, you must think I’m such a—”

“Dickhead?” You supply helpfully. He nods, shoulders slumping. 

You’re used to long stretches of silence with Oscar, but this one feels different. Now that you know he doesn’t totally hate your guts, the silence isn’t totally unbearable. He steps closer, watching you, gauging your reaction to his movements like you’re some sort of unpredictable creature. 

If anything, Oscar’s the unpredictable one. 

“So…” You start, tilting your head. “You like me?” 

Oscar exhales sharply, nodding. “Guess it might be a bit of a shocker, but I do.”  

“And you already know I like you.” 

“I’ve noticed, yeah,” He says, lips quirking up into a small smile. “What do we do now?”

“Maybe we take things slow. Get to know each other first, ‘cause I dunno if you’ve noticed, but one of us spent a lot of time ignoring the other,” You lilt, half joking. Oscar rolls his eyes playfully, but nods his agreement nonetheless. “I think for now, we should get back inside. I’ve got to make sure Lando hasn’t tried to steal the sofa from right out the section.” 

Oscar’s nose scrunches, head cocking to the side in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it another time.” 

“How about tomorrow over dinner?” He blurts, running a hand through his hair. It flops right back into place, one stray curl hanging over his forehead that he doesn’t seem to notice as he smiles hopefully at you. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Duh.” 

His smile grows bigger, pushing up his cheeks so much it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’ve never been the receiver of this smile before, and now that you are, you never want him to stop smiling at you like this. “Okay. Okay, cool. I’ll text you.” 

“Don’t you need my number for that?” 

“Oh, I’ve uh, I’ve got it already. I nabbed it from Lando’s phone a while ago. Just in case I gathered up the courage to message you. Which I didn’t, as you could probably tell,” He replied, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I wanted to though. I just—I didn’t know what to say.” 

“How’d you get into his phone?” 

He snorts this time, raising a brow at you. “His password’s 4444. Not exactly mission impossible.” 

You really need to have a talk with your friend about Internet safety one of these days. 

The aforementioned friend throws his hands up into the air when he spots you making your way back into the section as soon as you re-enter the club, bouncing over to you to wrap you in a giant hug. Lando mumbles something you can’t understand into your ear and giggles, then spots Oscar lingering behind you and positively screeches, reaching to pull him into the hug too. 

You don’t have time to get your arms out of where they’re trapped against your sides in Lando’s surprisingly vice-like grip before Oscar stumbles forward into your back at his friend’s harsh tug, cheek smushing against the top of your head. The muttered sorry he offers you does nothing to quell your rocket fast heartbeat at being this close to him for the first time.

“Look at us!” Lando hiccups, squeezing you both as tight as he can. Not an easy feat when you’re hugging two people at once. He bumps his forehead against yours gently to draw your attention back to him. (More like lightly headbutted, but you remain un-concussed so you won’t hold it against him.) “Hey, you’re in a papaya sandwich!” 

Oscar’s low chuckle vibrates through his chest and you feel it rumble through you too. You also feel his pinky curl around your own, thumb pressing against the inside of your wrist tenderly. 

It’s a subtle gesture, one that might not seem like much to anyone else, but you’ve gone from sort of acquaintances to something a little more than friends in the span of less than an hour.

Are you even friends now? You can’t even answer that. You like him and he likes you, but the only time you’ve ever spent together has been around other people. 

Still, only two points of contact—you’re not even holding hands and you think you might spontaneously combust. 

But you have to play it cool. 

The good thing about drunk Lando is that his attention span is close to zero, so he quickly grows bored of sandwiching you into a McLaren hug and wanders off again, most likely in search of another drink. You feel like it would be a good idea to stop him but you plop onto the nearest couch instead, letting your head tip against the back of it. 

To your surprise, Oscar motions for you to scooch over, slotting himself into the extra space you create. There’s a respectful distance left between yourselves, but then he leans towards you to be heard over the music.

“Your pulse was racing.” 

“Gee, I wonder why,” You muse. “Definitely not because of how I feel about you.” 

“Ha ha. You’re funny.” 

“See what you’ve been missing out on all this time?” You joke, head lolling to the side to grin at him. 

“I see it.” He’s looking at you unabashedly already, eyes drinking you in like he’s parched and you’re water. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, and god, you want to kiss him so bad right now. 

Instead you take a deep breath, fixing him to the spot with a pointed look. “Stop staring, or you’ll draw attention.” 

Oscar startles like he wasn’t aware he was staring that hard at you, mumbling out another apology before retreating back to his own bubble of space stiffly. 

You feel a tad guilty now. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but you and Oscar haven’t even begun to understand what you are to each other yet, and the last thing you want is the driver rumor mill to start spinning its wheels about your budding relationship before you even knew if there was going to be a relationship. It’s the kind of thing you want to keep under wraps until the two of you figure things out. 

Sighing lightly, you slide your hand along the empty space separating you, curling your pinky around his the same way he did earlier. Part of you expects he’ll shy away, so when he reciprocates the action, you’re pleasantly relieved. 

There’s still quite a bit of getting to know each other to be done, but you’re excited to see what this next chapter with Oscar holds.

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[dancingbirdie]

For your smut ideas- astarion leaving bite marks on your thighs👀 pretty vampy elf being all possessive👀

Hi, anon! I loved this request, but I have to warn you: I took it to a bit of a darker place than I usually go. Pay attention to the tags, y'all. I hope you enjoy!

Like my smut writing? Find more here.

Your Feral Love

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings/Tags: Biting, descriptions of blood, possessive/obsessive Astarion, marking/claiming behavior, oral sex (fem!Reader receiving)

Summary: Astarion has an intense desire to claim you. This time, it's in places the others won't be able to see.

*****

“Maybe we need to take things slower,” you murmured in Astarion’s ear. You swallowed thickly as he dragged his fangs across the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Whyever would we do that?” he whispered huskily, undeterred from continuing his sensual assault. You shivered as you felt his tongue slide up the column of your throat, unable to stop the little moan that escaped your lips.

“Some in our party are worried… about all the bite marks…” you managed to explain, despite the tantalizing option to just lose yourself in Astarion’s embrace. His cool touch was a balm to the inferno he was stoking within you. The creator of your lust; the only cure for it. 

But his lips withdrew from your neck at your response. Pulling back, he met your gaze with furrowed brows and a glare that could make even Lae’zel balk. 

“Who.” he demanded, his voice strained with barely-repressed anger. “Who had the audacity to murmur about us?” 

His fingers spasmed where they clutched your waist. As if he were bracing for the moment when someone would come and yank you away from him. 

He was possessive, your lover. Astarion hadn’t had anything to call his own for over two centuries. Not a thing. Not a soul. Now, after having lowered his guards and allowed you in, his possessive streak was as long and wide as the River Chianthar. He was never far from your side, even in battle. And on the rare occasions he was separated from you, you could feel the heat of his gaze tracking your every movement. Watching you. Making sure his one claim in this world was safe. Accounted for. 

The bite marks were a consequence of having not only a possessive lover but a vampiric one as well. You didn’t mind, of course. He always asked for your consent. 

Can I bite you here?

Your blood is singing to me, darling. Can I taste you here? 

What about here? Would you let me sate myself here? 

You flourished under the intensity of his love for you. The bite marks were a reminder of that, and so you cherished each one. Each was a memory of the way Astarion had taken, given and enjoyed you. Heat would sometimes color your cheeks and neck later on, when you caught sight of a pair of healing puncture marks, recalling just how they had come to be there, on that particular part of your body. 

But others in your party didn’t share your view of these markings. They, namely Wyll and Gale, were worried Astarion had started taking too much of your lifeblood too quickly. You could understand their concern, to some extent. They didn’t know, didn’t have reason to know, how little of your blood he actually took each night. Most times he would drink barely a mouthful before stopping. The urge to claim you in other ways would overtake his bloodlust, and you would climax again and again as he fucked you into oblivion. He kept his fangs punctured in your skin during times like these, claiming that your blood felt sweeter against them as you found your own release. Only when he had spilled himself in you would he remove them, and by then you were too lovestruck to care how long the markings would remain. 

“Tell me, darling.” 

Astarion’s voice brought you back to the present moment. You shook your head to dispel the thoughts distracting you. 

“...Mostly, Wyll. And Gale, to a lesser extent. I don’t know for certain about the others, although I certainly don’t think anyone comes to our defense…” you trailed off, swallowing thickly. 

You caught how Astarion clenched his jaw at your words. He was livid, that much was obvious. You also surmised his anxiety was likely surging within him, the paranoia suggesting that someone or something would cause you to be taken from him. Again, his fingers spasmed against your waist. 

“...So maybe we should… I don’t know, keep a lower profile about all this? If they say something to you directly, I know I’ll not be able to stop myself from fighting with them,” you explained, clutching his cheek desperately. 

“Tsk. Of course the ones who would have a problem with us would be the only other two who’ve been sniffing after you,” Astarion scoffed.

“What the hells are you talking about?” you asked, clearly confused. 

“Oh, darling. Surely you’ve seen the way they look at you? How they talk to you? I certainly have,” he huffed. 

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t pay them attention, Astarion,” you reassured him, nuzzling your nose against the curve of his jaw. “I only have eyes for you.” 

“And I, you,” he murmured, pressing his lips lovingly against your forehead. 

You hummed in delight at his affirmation. While you might not show it through bite marks like him, your possessiveness of Astarion was a fearsome thing, too. The emotion sometimes staggered you, even in the most mundane of moments, like when he donned his armor for the day, or when he cleaned his daggers in the firelight. He was yours. You were his. Anyone else was tertiary. 

The two of you remained in comfortable silence for some time, limbs intertwined as you lay halfway on top of him, your head resting against his chest. There was no beating heart within to listen to, but it hardly mattered. You knew that what was there, beating or not, belonged to you and only you. Astarion had said as much, amid previous bouts of lovemaking you had shared in this tent.

Your musings broke at the feeling and sound of his throaty chuckle beneath you. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, surprised. 

“What is it?” you pressed.

“I have an idea,” he smirked. 

“I usually like your ideas,” you quipped, heat flaring in your lower abdomen at the suggestive look in his eyes. 

“Then you’ll surely enjoy this,” he crooned, before flipping you both over all at once so that you were flat on your back, breathless beneath him. He fit perfectly between the cradle of your thighs, your legs parting almost instinctively to accommodate his presence. With one arm, he propped himself up above you, while his other hand clutched your leg to bare you open wider. The position alone had you growing wetter by the second, anticipation for what was to come driving your thoughts wild. 

“Much as I detest pandering to their concerns, I think we both know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from fighting with them either, were they to say something directly to us,” Astarion admitted. 

“But,” he continued as his nose skimmed the length of your abdomen, heading further and further south. “I also can’t deny how much pleasure it gives me to mark you as I do… to see the evidence of where my fangs have punctured your lovely skin. Mine. No one else’s.”

You bit your lip in a futile effort to stifle your moan as he began brushing the lightest of kisses against your inner thighs. He slid down lower, his face mere inches from your naked form. This close, you were certain he could smell your arousal. And no doubt find evidence of it as well. 

“So what is your idea?” you managed in a breathy whisper as your hips canted toward him, seemingly of their own volition. 

“How about I mark you here,” he cooed, his fangs sliding along a particularly visible vein that spanned the length of your leg, beginning at your groin. “Where only I can see. A place they can only dream of. A place only I have been.” 

You groaned, skin tingling, nearly electric, in every place his mouth touched. You reached down to card a hand through his carelessly flawless locks, tugging ever so gently on the curls. Astarion growled in response, sending a surge of heat through your lower abdomen. 

You were teasing a livewire at the moment, and you knew it. Just a little push, and you would ignite something truly mind blowing. You chose your next words carefully, readying yourself for the delicious consequences that would no doubt ensue.  

“I’m yours, Astarion,” you whispered, spreading your legs even further for him and clutching his face desperately. “You can lay claim to me however you wish.” 

Another growl ripped from his throat at your words and, in a blink, your lower body was pinned to the ground. His arms banded under and around your thighs to hold you in place, not that you had any desire to move. You whimpered as Astarion nipped and sucked his way across the expanse of skin, his nose grazing your soaked cunt from time to time, causing you to jerk with want. 

“Please,” you begged, desperate to have his mouth on your swollen, throbbing clit. He was so close to where you wanted – no, needed – him to be and yet still so far. 

“Oh no, not yet, darling,” he purred against the plush skin of your thigh. “I’m going to mark you until I’m satisfied first. Then I’ll give you what you crave, I promise.”

You whined, a pathetic little sound, but nodded your assent anyway. Any touch from him was better than nothing, even if it did cause your cunt to ache with a nearly unbearable need.

Then a sudden spike of iciness on your inner thigh had you gasping in surprise, morphing into a long, low moan as you realized Astarion had actually bitten you there. You could feel him sucking your lifeblood into his mouth, your sense of touch being so heightened in your aroused state. 

You lifted your head to watch him move from one place to another as he marked and sated himself. You cradled the side of his head lovingly as he fed from you, swiping your thumb rhythmically across his temple. You were utterly entranced, lost in the delicious feeling of him claiming you, as well as the way he beheld you as he sunk his fangs in again and again across your skin. 

He looked at you with the fervor of a madman. He clutched at your legs like some covetous creature. Drunk on the need to possess, to claim, to mark. It was dark, powerful, and heady. And you absolutely reveled in it, ravenous with want as you witnessed how his love for you manifested in such an incendiary way. 

With a moan of his own, he finally broke from his feasting. Lifting his head to meet your gaze, your cunt clenched at his expression, at his his bloody mouth, grinning widely with purely male satisfaction. 

“It should be a crime, you know,” he rasped, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. “How delicious you taste.” 

You whined at his words, desperate to have him taste you in another way.

“Shh, shh. I know, I know,” he crooned, squeezing your legs reassuringly. “I know how you want to be tasted now, darling. Don’t fret.”

Your back arched off the ground as, without another word, Astarion dipped his head to plunge his tongue inside your dripping core. Your mind short circuited as you felt his nose press against your clit with intent as his tongue continued to spear into you. It was almost too much to bear; your nerves already were nearly raw with desire. 

You couldn’t help the wail that burst from your lips as you felt his tongue lick up, up, up, until he was circling your clit with long, languid strokes. You fisted a blanket and bit down on the fabric, the last shred of your self-awareness working like mad to muffle your sounds.

You knew Astarion was too far gone to care if anyone heard you both, as evidenced by the obscene slurping and smacking sounds that emanated from his lips. That alone had you ratcheting up faster toward climax, relishing the way it felt and sounded to have Astarion feasting on you with such utter abandon.

A few more moments of floating in that delicious limbo and then you were crashing back down from the height of your orgasm. It felt like an almost spiritual experience, though no cleric could ever convince you that a god’s love would feel as good as this, as good as Astarion’s love for you.

Panting and shivering in the aftershock of your release, you clutched at him desperately, eager to embrace him with as much strength your jellied limbs could muster. He crawled up to lay haphazardly on top of you, head resting in the space between your breasts. You combed your fingers through his hair lovingly, content to remain in companionable silence.  

“I’m realizing now that I may have in fact gotten a little out of hand…” he murmured against your sternum after a while. 

“Perhaps,” you chuckled. “But I’ll take your feral love over anything else, my star.”

[jimmybutlrr]

Mystery Girl

Pairing: Professor -Terry Richmond x Brown-Skinned Women

Warnings : 18+. Romance, Mature Content (Cursing, and Smut) One-Shot, "Getting Slut Out"

Summary: He's that easy, that his draws dropped a few hours after meeting.

A/N: You voted and you shall receive. As always constructive Criticism is welcome and feedback *No Part 2*

“SURPRISE” everyone said. 

Terry clutches his heart feeling happy that his family showed up and out for him. 

“Thank y'all,” Terry said. After going around the party greeting every family member and friends. Terry can be found talking to Mike and the rest of his friend group. “We have to the club, maybe the strip club” Mike said, throwing all the options out there, “calm down, I just came back after being in the military for a few years” Terry said knowing his cousin is not going to take no for an answer. “You're right, we could go to the bar and use your military discount” Mike said, making the men laugh. 

Terry sighs, thinking about the options, laid out in front of him. “Alright, we can go to the bar but only for a few hours because I want to bury these memories”. Terry said in despain, thinking about his time in the military. “I’m going to make those memories disappear” That’s what Mike said a few hours ago, now being too drunk to entertain Terry. 

As Terry sits at the bar talking to the bartender as he has nothing better to do. During the time he spent talking to her, he found out that she had graduated university with a bachelors of social science, has a chihuahua, is collecting another degree  and works at the bar to be able to pay off her classes and debt.  “I really enjoy this talk with you but It’s the end of my shift and I have to switch out now, See you later Handsome .

" The bartender says winking at Terry and leaves before Terry can have a chance to get her number. Drinking the rest of his drink, he looks around for Mike and the boys, seeing them on the dance floor and he walks towards them. Tapping one of his friends on the shoulder, he lets them know that he has to leave and to watch out for Mike. “I have to go, but make sure you guys  make it home safe, alright”. The man nodds to Terry’s words, turning around to continue to dance with the bad gyal in front of him.  

Making his way through the club, throwing a few excuses here and there. He gets to the exit of the club and starts searching for his car when he sees the bartender on the phone, arguing with the uber as he’s not understanding where to go or what she’s saying. Terry walks up to her grabbing her attention, “Hi, I was just walking to my car, when I  saw you upset and I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright, as it’s dark out” Terry said concerned for safety. “I’m alright , it’s just the uber, they're starting to piss me off”. She said upset, “If It makes you feel better, you look sexy when you’re mad” Terry said walking  even closer to her, she blushes feeling flattered, by his compliment. 

“Thank you handsome, you don’t look too bad yourself” She smiles, staring into his eyes, biting her lip, noticing the height difference between them.  “I’m about about to go home, do you need a ride” Terry said breaking the silence, “I would love that” She said putting her head down, Terry wanting to charm her some more, takes to fingers and picks up her head “Don’t put your head down around me”  he demands staring into her eyes some more, feeling a bit chilly as he has no jacket, he put his arm around her neck and starts walking towards his car.

Thinking back to how they met, It really doesn’t explain how she ended up on his bed with her face planted into the sheets, gripping for dear life. “Don’t cum, Don’t cum” Terry demanded “No ppllleeaassee, let.. .me .. .cum, ppllleeeaasse” moans as her stomach starts hurting her. “It hurts, pleassee”. Terry nodds “Alright let it out, when i could to 3 alright” Terry said, lifting up her hand to start slapping her cheeks “ One “Slap” Two “Slap” Three” Terry said feeling her tighten around his dick, feeling like 2 orgasm isn’t enough. 

He starts fucking her through her orgasm, not caring that she’s trying to push his stomach way from her “Please, it too much,plleeaassee” She moans feeling tired. Terry stops, slapping her ass one good time before turning her around. He takes her legs putting them next to her head giving her a small kiss before he starts to bottom her pussy out”OOOMMYY Gooooodddd”. Tears start falling from her eyes, all while her ears start ringing and her body starts twitching. 

Making her reach up to push his body,” Why you running” Terry said, grabbing her hands and choking her. Looking down, Terry smirks, seeing drools fall from her mouth, the whites of her eyes and her delayed speech, trying her hardest to speak English or at least speak at all, it was cute. Terry’s thrust starts rough and slopier, revealing that his nut is getting closer and closer. “Come on, Nut deep inside me, daddy please” She said hoping to be filled. Terry obeys letting of a string of curses while he nuts deep inside her, not caring about the missing condom

Letting go of her body, he falls next to her, both too tired to get up. They fall asleep bare and sheetless.  A few weeks later, Terry wakes up and starts rubbing his eyes. Walking to his bathroom he starts getting ready for his first day being a substitute teacher for a college course that his connections helped him get. He gets to work, taking out the lesson plan from the previous teacher, the students start piling in one by one. Scanning everybody's faces for remembrance, he sees her. Shocked that she turned out to be his student, while also coming to the conclusion that she is equally as shocked as she is seated staring at him with the same eyes that were rolling back, just a few weeks before. When it hits him, He never got her name.

Tags -

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackgurlnhermoods

@easybrezzy @planetblaque

@urfavblackbimbo @jenlovey

@avoidthings @kimuzostar

@skvrpion @theereina

@megamindsecretlair @theereina

@melaninpov @mscarter213

[astrobydalia]

Astro knowledge

A short more educational post for y'all!

work by astrobydalia

Pisces/Neptune rules marketing while Gemini/Mercury is more about sales. They’re both deeply related but difference is Gemini is the salesman that appeals to your reason and resorts to mind games (Mercury) in a one-on-one to convince you why you should buy into something. Marketing on the other hand is ruled by Pisces because it appeals to the collective unconscious (Neptune). It’s all about crafting subliminal messages that make you see that product/idea as more appealing even when you know what you're seeing is not realistic. Very related to propaganda as well. This is also a field that requires a lot of creativity, they're constantly using metaphors, hyperboles or even making up little fictional stories to sell a product...

I've already said this but for anyone new, the planet that rules real love is moon not Venus. See the full explanation here

Where Sagittarius is in your chart will bring luck and happiness, but Taurus does give off expansive (or dare I say expensive) energy too. Where Taurus sits in your chart is an area of your life that will be more grandiose in nature cause Taurus rules over indulgence and pleasure. You could experience some sort of privilege when it comes to this house, the themes of this house come to you in abundance with little to no effort. Some examples:

Taurus 1st house: have a striking and bold appearance, gives off luxury and attractive vibes regardless of their looks. These people could come across as a "high value woman/man" without trying

Taurus 7th house: very active and abundant love life, lots of suitors and business partners landing on your lab, they want to provide for you and/or give you lucrative opportunities

Taurus 9th house: having access to high quality education or elevated knowledge. Probably attended a very exclusive or expensive collage, payed vacations vibes, easy and frequent relocations

Taurus 10th house: almost untouchable reputation, very respected and liked by others, is always seen as innocent or harmless, lots of success with their ventures

The 2nd house also talks about your roots and upbringing but in a more objective and material sense. This house and the position of its ruler can be very telling of how your actual social and economic context shaped your basic values. It can also talk about your house as the 2nd house rules over real state, lands, properties, etc. The 4th house is more about your home, how you were raised within that reality and how it impacted you emotionally at your core

Example: Libra risings could come from an environment that shaped their values around survival and money gains due to Scorpio 2nd house (I've seen very commonly they come from marginalized groups or humble beginnings or very financially competitive environments). So they have a family that is very demanding and expected them to work or be a boss from a young age (Capricorn 4th house)

Speaking of, 2nd house does not ONLY rule money!!! It rules RESOURCES and anything that you own that is highly valuable and you can put a price on!!!! And yes of course since these things are valuable they can be easily monetized, traded, used to make you money. This can be your skills, assets, real state, etc. The 2nd house is your piggy bank basically

There's a lot of talk about how 11th house is how you make money in your career while 2nd house is how you spend it. Well this is technically true but I'd like to add more explanation to this. In derivative astrology 11th house is 2nd (money) from the 10th (career) so it does show how you actually make money from your career. 2nd house is where you get money but 11th house is how you make money. Your 11th house is the multiplier (credits to @cosmicpuzzle for that fact) while 2nd house is where your financial stability lies on. In other words 11th house is indicative of how you generate more but 2nd house is all about what you already have, its about what you can make with what you OWN already, it deals with money that is already available through your resources' value (again, you piggy bank). This does 'make' you money in a way like if you lose your job and are lacking money your 2nd house where you turn to for example if you own a house you can rent it, you can buy a rare item that costs a lot, selling your art or any other natural skill, etc. The concept of value is important in this house bc it can increase or decrease (while 11th house increases and multiplies). The more valuable your resources are the more potential money you have available which means more financial stability and wealth. Anyways hope all that makes sense

We often refer to water signs when talking spirituality but truth is fire signs are very spiritual in nature as well. Fire symbolizes the spark of life itself, nothing could exist or be created without it. Aries deals with the basic ontological conception of 'I am, I exist', Leo is about how the self manifests and create itself and Sagittarius is about the purpose of the self. Living beings need heat to thrive/live and just like fire radiates heat your spirit radiates energy, creativity, passion, action, inspiration, purpose... and that's what fire signs represent. I'd say fire represents the fundamentality of spirit while water is more about the complexity of inner world.

Just like Aries is the "natural" ASC for a birth chart, Libra is the natural ASC for a composite chart cause a birth chart represents the chart of an individual (Aries) while composite represents the mutual relationship between two people (Libra)

When you develop the themes of a certain house in a healthy manner, you naturally start attracting the themes of the opposite house. This goes to show you that things in astrology aren't as compartmentalized as they seem, everything works together in certain way SPECIALLY axis'. Examples:

You need to focus on yourself first (1st house) to find the right partner (7th house)

You need to investigate and learn (3rd house) in order to find higher answers (9th house)

When you invest successfully (8th house) you earn more available resources (2nd house).

When you develop your hobbies and individuality (5th house) you find keen people (11th house)

When you heal spiritually (12th house) you find healthier habits (6th house)

There's this misconception that you have to disregard your South Node in order to develop you NN, but the thing is the SN is the starting point that can lead you towards developing your NN. This can happen as a harsh and painful lesson tho if you liger too much on your SN. For example NN in Libra need to learn to compromise in this life, there's a lot of focus on the self and independence, but eventually this placement teaches them that if you really wanna develop yourself in full potential (Aries) eventually you'll need others (Libra). If they linger too much on Aries SN they could experience a harsh lesson that forces them to count on others

work by astrobydalia

[twistedlovelines]

(Waddles in here at 4am like the insomniac I am)

Forgot to mention last ask— I got fired since you were last 'really active', lol.

As a vers switch, I tend bounce between sub & dom thoughts (and lean towards Yuu's circumstances). However, consider the following: being a sugar baby for some of the boys (given that Yuu is broke & most would have more money than them)... only for them to realize that sometimes, the companionship you provide can come in different forms. When y'all started talking about it, you agreed that he would take the lead more. However, after a particularly stressful period of time, you offer em comfort in the form of taking control & getting em fucked out of their minds.

Need to see their eyes rolling back, cheeks damp with tears, drooling as they're unintelligibly mumbling about how "they can't take anymore" even tho he's cum so much already— oh, you're shooting blanks at this point? I guess we can take a break. You did so good, sweetheart.

—🐈‍⬛

!! i hope you're doing ok babe :(( hopefully u can rest in the meantime, but ik the job markets Rough rn

wc: 850-ish

tags: (gn! reader, nsfw, mdni, overstimulation, sub! Azul, “baby” used for Azul)

yessss i can see this happening with azul in particular!!! after all, he has his needs but. not really the desire nor time to start up a proper relationship. besides, how could he resist such a tempting opportunity sitting in front of him? the ramshackle prefect, with little to nothing to their name but that broken down dorm, their cat, and the clothes on their back...of course he wants to help you! he's a businessman through and through, and letting such a precious opportunity go would be a waste.

he's seen the way you look at him, the flicker of desire in your gaze as your eyes skirt over his figure. assessing him.

he asks you to give him hand jobs first. nothing fancy- just a way for him to get work done faster when he's holed up in his office late at night. its nice, he thinks, when you neatly clean yourself up before leaving without him even needing to say a word.

its different, tonight.

He's been in his office more than his bedroom as of late, despite his dedication to sleeping properly (business cannot prosper on a weary mind, after all). Yet a recent lack of revenue (due to the nature of the first years being less competent than last years') has forced him to manage the fallout himself.

It's unbecoming of him. His blazer has been haphazardly thrown over a guest chair, and his hair's gone askew, his hands having run through them in an attempt to self-soothe.

Still, Azul's never been great at soothing himself.

It's Jade who calls you. Politely asks you to attend to Azul since he seems to be too busy to call you himself. Says a break might do him some good- something to get things off his mind.

You agree easily once he mentions giving you a bonus on top of what Azul usually pays you: a favor.

It's suspicious, but you take it anyways. Favors from Jade of all people are rare, and what he's asking for isn't exactly demanding. Azul's not exactly difficult to please.

Not when it comes to your touch.

You slip in easily enough, the spare key Azul had given you coming in handy. He doesn't seem to notice your presence at first, mumbling something along the lines of putting any papers in the guest chair. With a fond sigh, you make your way to drape yourself over the back of his chair. 

"Aw, have you been working too much? Poor thing," you coo. 

He jolts up in surprise, face snapping to yours as his eyes widen. His hair, having fallen from his signature appearance, moves easily as you brush it aside to place a kiss on his forehead. Azul melts under the soft touch, but freezes a second later.

“Did Jade call you?”

“Maybe.” 

Without skipping a beat, you move to settle in his lap, running your hands down his arms to settle them around your waist. 

“Still, it’s been a while since you’ve called me. I’ve missed you, you know,” you purr, loosening his tie. 

“I’ve been- ah- busy,” he retorts breathily. The pressure of your lower half gently grinding against his own is delicious, but with how busy he’s been, he’s far more sensitive than usual.

“Since when are you not?” 

He feels your mouth smile against his throat as you pepper love bites along the pale skin. The heat of your skin is delightful under his fingers, and he moves them under your shirt to skim along the curve of your spine.

A soft moan escapes him as you roll your hips against his with a particular force, blunt nails digging into the fat of your hips instinctively. 

“Already close, Azul?” You tease, nipping the lobe of his ear.

This is your favorite part of having sex with Azul, you think.

He huffs, turning his head to the side. A pretty blush has bloomed across his cheeks, the color complimenting his silvery lashes. His bottom lip is swollen from his efforts to stifle his moans- despite his office being thoroughly soundproof. You cup his cheek with affection and sigh as he nuzzles into your palm, seeking comfort on the edge of his release. 

“That’s alright baby, you can cum.”

A peek of tongue flashes out of his mouth at your words, and desire curls hot in your gut as you watch him lick at your palm in an attempt at self-soothing, hips rutting unsteadily against yours. 

You let him continue like that for a moment before withdrawing your hand and kissing him properly, shushing his whines. 

"Oh? Still have some tension in you, Azul? Maybe cumming a few more times will help with that.” He shivers at your words, baring his neck to you as you lave your tongue over a hickey you had left on his neck. Only an incoherent mumble makes it through his lips, but its damning all the same.

“Good.”

~

reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[lookingformoondrop]

Hi!! I love your writing and hope you’re doing great. May I request a break up scenario with yandere!Andrew?

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

TW: Dark material, mentions of a unalived person, manipulation, andrew calls reader a dumb bunny, very toxic relationship, Andrew drags reader around by the hair (weeee), captivity/kidnapping if you squint? Angst, very very depressing, it's been a while, so this is probably OOC ;-;

♡ Notes: GUESS WHOSE BACK! yes, I admit I was gone for quite a while, but with the progress reports of chapter 3 coming around, I figure now is my time to rise again. After I wrote all of this, I realized I might have made this a little too dark... My next work will likely be a fluff. Sorry Anon! Thank you so much for supporting, and I hope I can continue writing pieces for y'all~ ♡

Tik

Tok

Tik

Tok

Tik

Tok

The clock on your wall ticked closer to 7 o'clock. Every sound in the room was silenced by the deafening sound of it.

At the time, buying that clock seemed like a cute idea.

It was an old thing, two big clocks held together with beautiful dark wood. And a small circle shaped glass built underneath the two clocks meant for displaying a picture.

It was placed on your fireplace mantel, accompanied by other little trinkets.

You tried not to look at the mantel or the pictures that displayed happy memories, instead opting to glare at the hands ticking closer to your doom.

You didn't deserve to glance at these memories with what you were determined to do.

The room around was in shambles. Blankets and pillows were thrown around, cups and plates stuck to the tables around the couch after hours of neglect, and every picture frame in reach with the smiling face of Andrew Graves was put down.

At any moment, Andrew was going to come through that door and open his arms for you.

You bit your lip, already cringing at the bloody spots forming. You had to leave. There was no other choice.

After what you've seen, there's no possible way you could keep hugging and kissing him...

When you first moved in with Andrew, you found yourself to be the happiest ever.

Every day, you'd roll over to face an already awake and smiling Andy, who would kiss your nose and promise you coffee.

Every evening, you'd have a delicious dinner prepared by Andrew, who would make the atmosphere romantic with candles and rose petals, all leading to a delightful night of fornication...

Yes, at times, there were small cracks in the fantasy you two had made.

You still had to go to work, and you still had projects and deadlines that needed to be met. Not only this, but you still had co-workers you needed to work with.

You had made peace with this and was more than happy to fulfill your office work, but Andrew was not.

Now that you thought about it, many times a day, he would demand for your attention. He would go as far as calling your office and asking to see you. Lunch breaks would extend to lunch hours, and your sick and vacation days were used up in a matter of weeks (back to back).

And then you get home... if you had spent a work day completely ignoring Andrew, going as far as muting him, there'd be no telling what he'd do.

It began with silence, then one word answers, but if you even started getting angry at him for his horrible communication skills, he'd finally lash out.

" Just help me understand. Do you hate me? You're ignoring me all the time so that I can run back to you and beg you to pay attention to me. Why do you even stay with me, then? "

At first, you thought maybe he was just stressed out.

You had such a beautiful relationship, and Andrew was never big on talking about stupid things.

These things could all be avoided if you communicated with him more. If you were just healthy, then nothing would be toxic. You were the shitty one in this relationship, not him.

When you took the blame for all those things, his anger disappeared.

So your life would become peaceful again.

You never considered Andrew to be possessive. He was... overprotective. That's all. He was caring for you. It's not his fault that you're so sensitive,

And now you were giving all that up, and for what? Because every now and then he'll complain about the people in your life?...

because once he'll complain about them, they disappear from your life?

...because you found one of those people in the basement freezer?

The same freezer he made you promise to never go into?

Your eyes blink up at the ceiling, the tears that were dancing on your water line finally spilling over the edge.

Suddenly, the sound of the door cracking open made you quickly wipe at your tears.

"Bunny? I'm here, where are you?" Andrew called out from the hallway.

"...In here, Andrew." You answered, holding your hands in your lap.

"Andrew? What happened to Andy? What, did I do something wrong?" Andrew walked in, having already ditched his shoes and coat.

"Y/N? Hey... What's wrong?" Andrew power walked to you, avoiding the many pillows scattered across the floor.

He leaned down in front of your knees, grabbing your hands.

You gulped, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Andrew, we need to talk about something."

"Yeah...?"

"You... you have to promise not to get mad at me."

Andrew's face darkened, "...sure."

You bit your lip and finally looked up.

But Andrew was no longer looking at you, instead staring at all the picture frames that faced the ground.

You breathed in once. You had put this off for as long as possible.

"Andrew, i didn't call anyone yet, but you need to let me leave. I dont- no- I can't stay here anymore and I -"

"No."

You sputtered but couldn't get a good look at Andrew's expression as he stood up.

"You always get me worried over nothing," Andrew scratched the back of his neck, absently playing with his sweater tag.

You stood up,

"Andrew, this is important! I- I don't feel safe anymore, I don't feel safe with you! You've been keeping so much from me -"

Andrew scoffed at you, cutting your words short.

"You're acting wacky. Are you sure you didn't take anything before I came home?" Andrew finally looked at you with cautious eyes, "Look, Y/N, you're probably tired and need a break from your phone. Give it to me, and I can put this whole thing behind us."

Andrew lent his hand out, half expecting your hand and your phone.

But you shook your head.

"I know, Andrew. I know what you did."

Andrew raised a brow, "What I did...?" His hand was still outstretched.

"Last night I wanted to surprise you with some chicken soup, but I couldn't find the meat in our freezer, so... I went downstairs to the basement instead - "

Your eyes glanced at the clock again, it's happy picture becoming distorted the more you spoke outloud,

Andrew's eyes widened, and his hand dropped, "Y/N, you promised me you wouldn't go down there."

Your breathing became shaky, and your hand grabbed at the hem of your shirt,

"Andrew, you told me that all you had down there was some hunting meat. Y- You lied, not only lied, but you... You fucking killed someone! Oh god, Andrew, why did I find my boss and his DETACHED head in our basement freezer?!"

Andrew avoided your eyes, instead opting to run a hand down his face, sighing deeply into his palm.

When he didn't defend himself, your thoughts ran wilder, and the anger that you had locked away began bubbling to the surface.

This went far beyond control and possessiveness, Andrew murdered someone. Your Andrew, the same man you slept next to for years, murdered someone.

"How many years did I spend with a goddamn murderer? I had thought that- that maybe it was this crazy elaborate plot twist, that maybe you had a good reason to keep A PERSON in a freezer, but maybe I was living with a killer who I should have left a long time ago!-"

"Enough."

You had barely any time to process what he said before he grabbed your hair and began dragging you to the bedroom.

You tried twisting from his grip, dry sobs racking your body.

"Andrew, please stop! I'm - ow!- I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not. Everything I ever did was to protect you. Clearly, you've been thinking about this for awhile."

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, "and to think, I would've let you run around a little longer in the big world."

You continued sobbing, trying to grab at his hand. "Andrew, please!"

His hand pushed the door open, but right as he was about to enter, he stopped.

"Bunny", he crotched down to your level, his hand still grabbing your scalp, "do you love me?"

Your body shook involuntarily, your crying turning to hard hiccups. In your mind, all you wanted was to escape. To leave, to be embraced by someone who could protect you from this.

"P- Please Andrew, " you tried shaking your head despite the pressure, "s- stop, you're h-urting me."

Your chest heaved, your heart beating painfully against your chest.

Time moved slowly as Andrew searched your face, but slowly all the light he had in his eyes faded, and was replaced by a darkness that chilled your body.

"You didn't say yes." He clicked his tongue, "but that's okay, its only a matter of time."

Suddenly, he stood up and turned. Dragging you through the living room again, walking towards the basement door.

You screamed as you recognized the direction he was heading. You hit his hand, beating the grip he had on you.

Your eyes were wide and wild, trying to find some sort of escape, and your eyes landed on the clock.

Although you could no longer see the photo, you remembered the day Andrew brought it to you. He has promised to never leave you, and you promised to never leave him.

He asked you if you would love him if he was a monster.

You said, no.

All this time, you thought that Andrew would let you go. You would tell him you knew, he would turn himself in, and he'd let you go. Making all these years a bad nightmare. But the truth was, Andrew had long since known you would've found the body. The thought had crossed his mind, and he planned for the outcome even if he hoped youd be smart enough to never come to that.

When Andrew opened the basement door, he crotched down again and let go of your hair, instead moving you to his arms and holding you.

"Hey, I love you. You know that, right? I will never hurt you. Dont worry, you're going to be staying with me for a long time."

Andrew kissed your forehead, and began heading down the stairs.

Your eyes watched the door and the light that came from it as Andrew lead you further down the stairs.

Further away from the light, further away from freedom.

You cried into Andrew's shoulder, who patted your hair, until you could no longer see the light.

"You're never leaving me, my dumb little bunny."

Thank you for the ask! <3

[olivethewriter]

Love is a drug

hey y'all this is my first one shot, and I am kind nervous, but I just watched euphoria and thought this would be a good fic idea y/n goes to fez's house and gets drugged by mouse instead of rue leading to a steamy confession

You knock on your best friend Fezco's door. "Fez, open up! It's pouring out here!"

The door cracks open a moment later. "Y/N, you really shouldn't be here."

"Too bad, I'm starving," you reply,making a beeline for the kitchen. You grab your favorite chipst.

"Nah, Y/N, I'm serious. You gotta get the fuck up out my house," Fez insists.

"Man stop stressin," you reply, plopping down on his couch and flipping through the TV channels.

"My supplier's bout to swing by, and I don't want you here when he does," Fez explains, growing more tense.

"I'm hungry," you repeat, munching on another chip.

"Then take the fucking chips with you," he grumbles.

"You're being hella rude today, but—" Before you can finish, Fez's phone rings, breaking the tense silence.

After a long pause, Fezco shakes his head. "I could fucking kill you right now."

Fez heads to the door as you turn off the TV. A tall, tattooed guy, way taller and bulkier than you expected, steps in behind Fez. 

"Well, shit, I didn't know your bitch would be here," he says, eyeing you.

"Nah, man, she's just a friend," Fez replies, taking a seat across from you.

"Well, hello there," the guy kneels in front of you, extending his hand. "I'm Mouse. Pleasure to meet you."

"Um, hi," you mutter, cautiously shaking his hand. His intense gaze makes you uneasy, like you want to crawl out of your skin.

he says, he stands up and unpacks his bag and starts describing its contents.

"Sure you don't want any fentanyl?" 

“Nah man im cool too many ODs” fez says 

“How bout you little lady want any fent?”Mouse asks, looking at you.

"No," you reply firmly.

"Nah, man, she's cool," Fez interjects. You've never used drugs before (besides vaping once), and you certainly don't want to start with something as dangerous as fentanyl.

"You gonna let him speak for you?”you look to fez for help “look at me when i talk to you." Mouse demands. He grabs your chin, playing with your hair.

"Have you ever tried it?" he whispers into your ear. You shake your head, speechless.

"No, for real, bro, I don't want her messing with that shit," Fez asserts, his voice steady but tense.

"Don't look at him. Look at me," Mouse insists, grabbing your chin and staring into your eyes. "Ever tried anything?"

You remain silent, unsure how to respond.

"No, seriously, man, she's good," Fez tries to defuse the tension, but Mouse isn't done.

"You know that feeling when you come so hard you can't hear or feel shit?" Mouse whispers, leaning in close. You freeze, feeling the point of his knife against your glossed lips.

You pray silently. You can't believe you're about to die. But you glance at Fez and open your mouth.

The drug hits you fast. In less than a minute, you're numb, barely able to sense anything. You lie down on the couch, eyes barely open.

"You like that?" Mouse asks, placing your legs on his lap.

"Uh-huh," you mumble.

"Wanna try more?" Mouse offers, leaving light touches on your thighs.

"No, man, she doesn't want any more," Fez says, struggling to keep his voice calm, hiding his growing anger.

"I-I want more," you slur, wanting to feel like this forever. Mouse places patches in your shorts' waistband, his hands lingering on your hips.

"That'll cost you three hundred," Mouse says.

"I'm broke," you manage to say.

"That's too bad. Guess you'll have to find another way to pay," Mouse says, his hand creeping toward your hips.

"Man, don't make her do that. I'll pay for her," Fez interjects.

"Nah, thought you were too good for fent," Mouse retorts. Fez grabs the gun, but ultimately decides against using it. That's the last thing you remember before drifting off.

When you wake up, Mouse is long gone, and Fez is nowhere to be found. You're in Fez's room, wearing one of his sweaters. You get out of bed and head to the kitchen, where Fez is eating cereal.

"I'm sorry," you say, barely holding back tears. Fez turns around.

"No, no, don't apologize. It's my fault. I should've had you wait in another room or just fucking shot him," he says, seeing your quivering lips. He pulls you into a hug.

"That was so scary," you admit, barely keeping it together.

"I know, ma," Fez consoles you.

"I thought I was going to die," you confess.

"It's okay. You're here now, and you're safe," Fez assures you, pulling away to look into your eyes.

"I won't let him hurt you again," Fez vows.

"I know," you whisper.

When you thought you were going to die, there wasn't much you regret. You love your family. You're on good terms with almost everyone. But you had never been in love before. You always thought you and Fez would end up together, and it was only a matter of time. But life isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow might not happen. And the next time you almost die, you don't want it to be without kissing Fezco O'Neil.

You look into Fezco's blue eyes. Without thinking, you ask, "Will you kiss me?"

Fez's blue eyes widen, but he doesn't hesitate. His lips touch yours, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You look up at him, then at his lips.

"Do it again," you demand.

This time, Fez doesn't wait for you to finish your sentence. He kisses you fiercely. The kiss, sweet and hesitant before, is now intense and passionate. Teeth clash, and tongues wrestle as you try to get as close as possible. His strong hands wrap around your waist, and your arms tighten around his neck. You step closer, until every inch of your body presses against his. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves one of your hands from your waist to your neck, pressing a little harder. You let out a small gasp, pulling his face back into yours and kissing him harder. Your hands meet behind his neck, and unexpectedly, he bites your lip and looks into your eyes. You let out a whimper, but your phone dings.

"I need to get that. It's probably my mom," you sigh, disappointed that the moment is over.

"Yeah, of course," Fez says, setting you back on the ground. You look at the message from your mom, telling you to let her know if you're going to stay overnight at Maddie's house and come home.

"I'm so sorry. I have to go," you apologize.

"Okay, let me walk you out."

When you two reach the door, Fez speaks up. "Listen, I really like you. I want this to happen again. Can we do this again but not just like hooking up and shit? I want it all."

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Fezco?" you ask, smiling.

"I mean, I guess, if you want to be," Fezco says, looking down and fiddling with his hands.

"Of course," you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him.

"See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Y/N," he says, watching you walk away, the ghost of your kiss lingering on his lips.

[chronicsyd]

ykw? now that I've mentioned this hypothetical I'm gonna make the Wildest hot take that I'm sure No One will agree with but I'm gonna make it anyways:

Caitlyn is a victim of Ambessa's meddling

And before you all start typing away cuz I can already feel your comments coming, No this Isn't me justifying what Caitlyn does. This is me explaining that What she does is reactionary to all of the shit that Ambessa has set up, Ambessa is the bigger problem here and No One is willing to discuss it. They slap Everything onto Caitlyn and call it a day.

Because like I mentioned in my hypothetical, we do originally see Caitlyn still vouching for those in Zaun, saying innocents will die if they bring Hextech weaponry into Zaun solely to make Jinx pay for her actions. Which in turn causes Mel to agree with her, not just because she's against what her Mother's demanding (because she Knows that Ambessa's just puppeteering Salo), but because she also feels that Hextech should be a Last resort in any given situation, Mel still has compassion. Unfortunately, Mel still has to compromise with her fellow councilors, so they settle on sending the Enforcer's after Jinx, just without Hextech. This in turn is what causes Ambessa to set up the attack on the memorial. Because what the councilors have decided isn't going to start a war with Zaun, which is what she's looking for. She needs a catalyst to have people calling for so much blood that not starting a war is no longer an option.

Now I will admit, her bringing up becoming an Enforcer is one of her mistakes. She says to Vi "you can show not all of Zaun supports Jinx" because she believes this. Not just from Vi, but because Jinx's attack was her own, other Zaunites didn't attack the Council, she did. She says "I thought you were on our side" because she thought that Vi would understand because like her, she's lost a parent to an oppressor (and Before you start, I'm talking about Jinx oppressing Caitlyn specifically here. When Jinx threatens her, kidnaps her, and takes away her mom; she's specifically targeting Caitlyn, and for the most part, Caitlyn has been pretty helpless against her. therefore, that makes Jinx an oppressor of Caitlyn). But this causes her to think deeper about it and realize that asking Vi to put on the badge was the wrong thing to ask of her, she says so later in the episode. (btw, it's clear that Caitlyn secured Vi's enlistment Before offering the badge, not after being rejected, y'all are just reaching with this take because you're so blinded by your anger at Caitlyn (ironic isn't it?). Because 1) why would she even have the badge to begin with? But 2) it's pretty clear with with Maddie coming up and talking to her, that Enforcer's have been talking about Vi and Jayce going rouge after Silco's simmer facility for a bit now. And that they're all seemingly impressed with her and how Caitlyn stood up for her, they think that Vi's already agreed because Caitlyn hadn't asked yet)

When she's talking to Jayce, she says that "she understands how easy it is to hate them". because while yes, it is arguable that she was ignorant to people in Zaun back in S1, she didn't see how easy it was for her fellow people to just hate them. Especially after Vi showing her what life was like for people in Zaun. But that was before Jinx went and killed her mom (and gave her her whole baggage of other traumas). But it's still being shown to us that she doesn't lump all Zaunites together just because of Jinx's actions because she still remembers seeing everything down there, she doesn't hate them like other people do.

So, why does the attack at the memorial change things?

Because the attack wasn't made by Jinx, it was made by other Zaunites. Zaunites that she just spent a lot of her time vouching for, being in their defense, giving them benefit. because that's what's happening in Caitlyn's point of view, she doesn't Know (yet, most likely) that Ambessa was the reason that it even happened. She's angry at them and herself because like not shooting Jinx, she's been giving them the benefit when it seems that they don't deserve it. To Her, a peaceful memorial for her Mom that was destroyed by Zaunites that had no reason for attacking them. She Wasn't going to attack them until this happens, because now to her, they're all guilty (keep this in mind, because it actually has to do with her outburst at Vi later).

When she see's that her mom made the vents so that the people of Zaun could breath and not be harmed by the gray, she's so overcome by anger that she uses the gray as a weapon. she plows through the people of Zaun in order to get to Jinx, this is also what she does with Isha later. She isn't thinking rationally at this point anymore, she's simply being controlled by her emotions and thinking that if she kills Jinx it will fix all her problems. And because she now sees other Zaunites as guilty, she doesn't care what her actions are doing to the people of Zaun. they're simply just in her way.

And while Caitlyn says she wouldn't have missed the shot, I'm having doubts about that. Because at that point she's just firing wildly, she misses and takes off Jinx's finger, she misses and hits Vi instead. When Vi grabs the gun and aims it at the ground, look at the face Caitlyn makes here. it goes from shock at what just happened, to looking at Vi in anger. her face Screams "how could you?!" and while Vi's saying she's protecting a child, Not Jinx, that's Not what Caitlyn's hearing. by Vi getting in the way at all, she believes that Vi is still protecting Jinx, that despite Vi telling her to take the shot, that her sister is gone, she believes that Vi was lying to her. That's why she says "I keep telling myself that you're different, but you're not." she now believes that Vi was Never going to kill Jinx, that simply being her sister that was going to be a problem for Vi (because that's what happens in Ep 9. Vi's the one pleading with Caitlyn that "she's my sister" "don't hurt her" etc.). The straw that broke the camels back, however, is when Vi compares Caitlyn to Jinx. Now, Vi's absolutely right in what she's saying here, because Caitlyn has been acting like Jinx (because that's like the whole Point with these two, they're Supposed to be foils of each other). But to Caitlyn, Vi might as well have just slapped her across the face because she just compared her to the person that killed her mom and has been causing all her suffering. In response, she lashes out by hitting Vi with the back of her gun (AGAIN, I'm not saying what Caitlyn did is right, I'm just explaining what's going on and how CAITLYN is currently seeing things).

For a split second, you see regret on Caitlyn's face. She feels bad because she hit Vi, but that isn't quite enough to get her to stay, because the other demons in her head are still convincing her of what she think's Vi's done, so, she turns and leaves.

SO now that we got all THAT outta the way, let's talk about Ambessa appointing Caitlyn as a general shall we?

like I've mentioned in another post, she switches from Salo to Caitlyn because the fool mentioned how much power the Kiramman name wields. Because she simply can't put Herself as leader, oh no no no That would be too obvious. She needs a face for this war to hide behind, someone from Piltover itself, and who Better to Be that face than the new head of the most Powerful house in all of Piltover? Especially now that that new head has been dealing with quite a lot of anger and grief (something that Ambessa is Exceptionally skilled at weaponizing).

She starts with this whole speech of how Zaun has just been attacking Piltover nonstop (despite 2 out of the 3 instances she lists, she Herself is the one that's Responsible), and how "wrath must be met with wrath". Earlier she tells Salo to bring the "Who's who" of Piltover so that Caitlyn CAN'T say no to this because with everyone calling for war, it would look bad for Caitlyn to be like "nah I'll pass thanks". Because you can see everyone's faces, they're Approving of this decision that Ambessa makes, they're Willing to stand behind Caitlyn and the Kiramman name. And so are the Enforcers who Admire Caitlyn, they all begin to pound their chest in solidarity with the Noxian soldiers, they're Also willing to stand behind Caitlyn. and watch the look on her face as Caitlyn walks towards Ambessa, when Ambessa places the cloak on her and swears "her mother will have justice". she's merely starring off, almost in a daze, her rational isn't kicking in, she's merely being lead on a string. here she's being given what she Thinks will solve her problems, and is taking it.

I'm sure that once Caitlyn starts to figure out what Ambessa's doing, not only is her anger going to be directed at Ambessa; but the guilt from the blood that's now on her hands is probably going to eat her alive. She's going to need to make things right with both Vi and Zaun if this has any chance of becoming better but it's rather unclear if that's even going to be a viable option for her. Is there enough time left for Caitlyn to be able to right her wrongs? who knows, it just depends on what they show us.

So all in all, while Caitlyn's actions Are wrong, she isn't this evil, unlovable bitch that just proved that she's been a bitch all along that isn't worth redeeming. thank you for your time.

(before I go, one thing I AM going to say people invalidating Caitlyn's trauma and grief because she comes from a privileged background and therefore "her trauma isn't as bad" is one of the most DISGUSTING things I think I've ever seen. Trauma Absolutely Does NOT work like that. Caitlyn's been through a Fuckton of trauma in merely a matter of Days and is being expected to hold herself together. Yes the actions that she's taking are wrong, I've said this like 5 times during this post, but that doesn't mean her pain and trauma has less value and isn't real. This isn't the trauma olympics, there isn't an invisible line that someone has to cross before you deem "they're allowed to react now")

[sm-baby]

I’m so sorry about the influx of people demanding for you to draw stuff for THEIR ships and such. Even if I’m not a fan of Showtime, I love seeing your art for them and how happy you seem to be when talking about them and how happy you make others with that content. Do whatever you love!! It’s so awesome!!

And to the people pressuring SM, find content for those ships and requests ELSEWHERE. Respect boundaries. If someone doesn’t want to fulfill your request, ESPECIALLY if that involves requesting art (as an artist myself, art takes so much TIME and can be such a grueling process, especially if you’re not passionate about what you’re making), they have absolutely ZERO obligation to and are completely justified. There are other artists and other content you can find. You won’t die if one artist doesn’t have the same preferences as you or doesn’t draw your request (WHICH YOU AREN’T EVEN PAYING FOR, MIND YOU!! SM is already very generous for giving us art for the asks we send them, for free!). Leave them alone!!

Anyways ur awesome SM. #1 sm-baby fan until I die

Y'all are great <3 i want yall to know that I do appreciate the support.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

You can ignore this if you want but!! I have an idea for a request: Gavril and mc trying to make homemade cheese together. Whether Mc already knows how to make cheese or not can be up to you!

Making Cheese with Gavril

Notes: I'M BACK, I SWEAR GUYS I AM NOT DEAD. Seriously I'm so sorry for leaving y'all w/o anything, my motivation to write anything had disappeared and finals bombarding me SUCKKKED. BUT I'M FINALLY FREE, RAHHHHHHH!!!! Anyway I was reminded of this one ask Part got last year with a cheese maker reader/food taster (I couldn't find it but it's somewhere on their dash, so credit to the person who asked the ask!) and I thought why not use that? Enjoy reading! (He may be OOC guys, it's been a while since I last wrote T~T)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol in here (idk if Gavril drinks alcohol but considering the crap he goes through, that boy needs a DRINK)

----

Working as a cheese maker is a lot of work, as simple as it may seem to others outside of the profession. Physically demanding your attention each and every day. But that was part of the job either way. Doesn't mean it can't be fun, especially if you're a fanatic of cheese.

Tomorrow was your day off, your muscles finally being able to relax from the constant lifting, stirring, and pressing that they had to endure. You had a pretty good idea of what to do when you came back from work, and that was to relax until the early hours of the morning.

It was getting dark; the sun setting as it casted its long shadows onto the ground below. You felt yourself sinking into the couch cushion, the nerves of your limbs becoming fuzzy as your mind went numb watching the screen of the TV, some random show you couldn't bother to pay attention too for the last couple of hours.

A ping from your phone pulls your attention away from the show you were mindlessly watching, slowly pushing yourself up from the couch— wincing a bit as your limbs were finally moving again after so long—as you reached for it. You had a pretty good guess of who it was, as he was the only one who texted you on a daily basis.

Open your window please <3

"Didn't know my day could get any better." Smiling, you sent him a message back, standing up from the couch as you stretched your arms high above your head; a few of your joints popping in the process, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

Which one?

Bedroom window

Omw

It scared the crap out of you when he first appeared at your window with little to no warning, but with how things usually played out in your life, you got used to it eventually.

A smile graced your face when you saw him perched by your window with an eager look on his face, his goopy tail seemingly wagging at the sight of you once you approached closer to the window.

Thank god he actually came when it was dark this time, you don't need another situation happening with your neighbor freaking out to the police.

"Hey." You offered quietly in greeting, wrapping your arms around his neck as you nuzzled into his skin—enjoying the warmth he seemed to radiate. He copied your actions, wrapping his arms around your waist—his grip gentle yet tight as he pulled you to himself.

"Hello, darling." He mumbles into your hair, placing a kiss atop your head.

"Didn't know you were coming back so soon?"

"Wanted to surprise you."

"Well, color me surprised."

~~~

"So," Your back was turned to Gavril as you poured the two of you drinks, "-anything new happened on your crazy adventure?"

At this point it was routine for the both of you. Gavril comes back, you make sure he isn't injured, catch up with each other's lives. Most of the time Gavril's stories seem to be a tad bit more interesting than yours, and concerning at the same time.

Very concerning.

"Not much," He starts, "-but I did get chased by some agents a few weeks back.." A awkward smile appears on his face as he shrugged his shoulders. His coat was currently laid across his lap, his fingers fiddling with the frayed edges while he looks around the room. Walking over to him, you offered him the glass as you sat down in the chair next to him, he gladly took it—taking a small sip of it before placing it down onto the table. You took a sip of your own drink, the liquid giving your throat a slight burn that soon settled into a slight tingle.

It's been a while since you last had a drink, not crazy long ago though, watching as the liquid swirls in the glass before bringing it back up to your lips again—embracing the burning yet warming feeling of the liquid.

"Did that same redhead appear again?" Gavril mentioned him once or twice before to you, you're not sure what the name of the guy is, all you know is that he constantly reappears and how cowardly he can be.

"No, only his buddy showed up this time. Wasn't like anything changed though." The corners of his lips hint at a smile, bringing a hand up to the one prominent curl of his hair as he plays with it for a bit, twirling it around his finger. "I wonder how he even got that far in without quitting." You murmured out. From what you've heard, FBI training is no joke, and very intense. Both physically and mentally. Those who can't handle the challenge usually quit early on; and if they do pass, then there's the insane amount of cases that would affect nearly anyone. So for the redhead to get that far still puzzles you.

"I wonder the same too."

You continued to talk for what seemed like hours, pouring yourselves a few more drinks as the day slowly faded away into the early hours of the morning. Your muscles felt relaxed, more at ease; a comforting haze overtaking your brain as you let today's worries slip away. It doesn't seem Gavril is feeling the effects of the drink other than the nearly invisble tint of red on his cheeks and his relaxed posture instead of the regular stiffness.

Drinking the last bit of the liquid left in your cup, you stand up from your chair as you head towards the fridge, looking back towards Gavril to offer him something to eat, "You hungry?"

He hums out in confirmation, head now resting on top of his folded arms, eyes closed. Peering into the fridge, you clicked your tongue; no cheese. Searching every corner of the fridge, nope, nada. What a pickle you were in.

You could just go to the convince store that's not far from here, 10 minutes by foot. But is it opened? Checking the time on your phone, no, they closed just a few minutes ago. Are you sure your eyes didn't just missed the cheese?

Second time looking, again, nothing.

While searching the fridge for a third time, a thought pops up.

'Well...there's milk, and a few lemons...' Looking in the cabinet next to the fridge, yup, salt and some leftover animal rennet.

Ah, a quick and easy solution to your small problem.

Quickly getting to work, you grabbed two small bowls, pouring water into both of them. Rinsing and cutting the lemon, you squeezed some of the juice into one of the bowls, mixing it and setting it aside. For the second bowl, you added some animal rennet into the water, mixed it and set it aside with the other. Once placing the pot on top the stove, you felt the embrace of two arms wrapping around your midsection with the added weight of something on your shoulder. Peeking behind you to see Gavril, with a curious look in his eyes.

"Something wrong?"

"What..exactly are you doing?"

"Ran out of cheese, so I'm making some." You respond cheerily, a tired smile spreading on your face. Turning back to the task at hand, you missed the way that red tint on his face seemed to have become darker, hugging you closer to himself as he watches your hands at work.

Despite you guys dating for several months, he still gets shy about acts of affection. Kisses, praises, gifts, being pampered; It just gives him that fluttery feeling that cascades through him. It's not that he hates it, no far from that, it's just that he doesn't know what to do. Being isolated from everyone—for who knows how long—and his only company as rats made him rather awkward. You don't mind it though—it's adorable to you whenever he hides his face in the shadow of his hood when you give him a kiss on the cheek—you want him to be comfortable around you, so usually give him ways out or just let him control the pace.

"Can I help?"

"Of course! Just, wash your hands first."

---

"So I just, pour it in?" There was a hint of hesitation in his voice, looking back and forth at the bowl with the animal rennet mixture and the pot of milk that was just taken off the heat. You had your phone playing some music— since you felt that the atmosphere was a bit too quiet—with one of Gavril's favorite rock bands playing as you guided him through the steps of making cheese.

"Yup, then just stir it in gently."

You watched as Gavril does as he was told, although a bit hesitantly once he began stirring. Walking over to him, you laid your hands atop his hands on the spoon, showing him the proper way to stir the cheese-to-be mixture. The contact brought a blush to his cheeks, a small smile forming on his face.

"Now that's done," Putting a lid on the pot, "-we wait for 10 minutes."

---

"You're gonna want to cut it in a grid-like pattern, like this!" Using a long knife, you cut two lines into the semi-solid mixture before handing the knife over to Gav.

"Oh, seems easy enough." He muttered to himself, changing the way he held the knife before holding it properly in his grip.

"Make sure to reach the bottom when cutting, cause right after this step is done, we're straining the liquid from the solids."

---

"I'll handle this part. I'll need to dunk the cheese in some hot water in order to stretch it properly." After straining out the cheese from the whey, you now needed to stretch it until it reached the right firmness. Gavril nods, as he lingers, a excited smile appearing on his face, his fangs peaking out.

Dunking the cheese into the water, you begin stretching. This part you somewhat don't like, it's not that the water is boiling hot, it just makes your skin irritated if it's submerged for long periods of time. Though it is a good way to release stress, it's like slime in a way. Edible slime, huh.

---

After adding the salt, you finally finished, good old Mozzarella cheese. Rolling it into small balls and storing it in some of the whey, you sit down as Gavril pops a ball of cheese into his mouth, a big smile appearing on his face.

A smile comes across your face as well, glad he's enjoying it. It's nice spending time with him, in moments like these. You kinda forget the fact that several month ago that he broke into your house and scared the living shit out of you when you realized you almost got killed.

...Does that count as Stockholm Syndrome??

Before you could think any further, a light poke to your arm brings you out of it. Looking towards Gavril, you see that he's offering you some cheese, a bashful smile on his face as a tint of red makes itself known. Aw, that's sweet of him.

"You can have some.."

"Thanks Gav." Popping the piece of cheese into your mouth, you savor the moment. Cheese tastes so much better when you're making it with those you care about.

What a great way to spend your day-off.

[theitgirlnetwork]

What Are You Willing To Do?

Ch. 3: No Turning Back (Date 1 Pt. 2)

Note: Well hello my pretties. I had half of this chapter sitting for a while and dreamt up the back half this week. This is a busy time for me but Rafe Cameron is still monopolizing my brain I fear. I hope you all are having happy holidays or if you're not celebrating any, then just a good ass last couple weeks. Thank you so much for all of the love you've shown this story so far and all the comments and messages. As always, I love reading your thoughts so feel free to be interactive, it's appreciated. I am trying to make a playlist for this couple so any ideas please send to me :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a short one. I also hope I get the next one out soon. There is sexual content in this chapter so those who would like to skip it, the * is a sign to skip until you see it again. It's short so it shouldn't take up too much. Thank you all and love ya! <3

Warning(s): sexual content, strong language, mental/emotional manipulation (they're toxic, sorry), MDNI I'm so fr. Any minors that I find will be blocked <3 Grown folks, have at it.

(Just Rafe trying to figure out if Milan is crazy/bratty in a hot way or in a 'I can break her' way) (Spoiler its both)

Milan's Outfit (I'm gonna have so much fun dressing her y'all. I love a rich hoochie):

“Good, yeah?”

“Mhm.” 

Rafe nods to himself as he licks the strawberry residue off of his thumb, watching as Milan hums to herself happily, chewing on the fruit. “Gettin’ back all the calories we lost in the gym.” He mumbles as she shovels a piece of her waffle that she’d drowned in syrup before pressuring him into sharing it with her.

She sits close to him in her own chair, the two of them opting to sit on one side of the table so that he could toss his arm over her shoulder and rub his fingers through her hair. “You’re gonna mess up my hair.” she whines, moving her head halfheartedly before settling right back into place.

“M’fuckin’ tryin’ to.” He smirks. 

“You were a gentleman yesterday.” Milan rolls her eyes, forking at another piece of her breakfast, laughing when he shrugs at her in response. “And I’m hot, my pilates takes care of my eating habits. Plus, curves look good on me.  Maybe you should worry. You’re eating more than me.”

“Fuck should I?” Rafe’s eyes widen as he feigns concern. He glances down at his stomach under his shirt, pulling the fabric up with one hand, showcasing the abs underneath. Rafe uses his free hand to grab one of Milan's, dragging it down along the skin above his muscles, chuckling smugly to himself as her gaze drops, following their joined hands in their descent to the space above where his pants rested. “Yeah, m’not worried.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?” He murmurs, using his index finger and thumb to guide her by the chin to bring their lips together, kissing her deeply. The way she goes to pull away at the initial press of their lips together makes it clear she’d only expected a peck. But when Milan feels Rafe chase her lips she returns, meeting him again and parting her lips. 

She couldn’t focus at all. Since they’d kissed in his car. Hell, maybe since he’d picked her up that morning, her brain was foggy with all things him. She knows better. She knows better than making out with boys in the middle of a nice restaurant, hand on the back of her neck, gripping his shirt. She’s dated a lot, unbeknownst to her father and much to her brother’s chagrin. But not many boyfriends. Milan hasn’t ever felt attraction like this to anyone. She’s never liked anyone this much in such a short amount of time. Rafe was all consuming. He moves quickly and basically drags her along with him. 

But he was doing everything right. Holding her hand, opening doors, paying for everything. Listening when she talks, shutting up so she can chat about whatever she wanted, but being man enough to cut her off when he felt like he needed to. But still respecting her. Demanding others they encountered did too. That’s why she could get lost in this day. Despite the looks. The frowns for the disapproving older people dining in the same place as them. The scowls from jealous girls, murmuring, asking about who the hell was the girl with the Rafe Cameron. She’s the Milan Cabot. And as delusional as she may sound, she’s starting to think she and Rafe were made for each other. 

When they pull away with a smack, Milan’s manicured fingers go to work wiping away the gloss she’d left on (and around) Rafe’s lips as his deep blue eyes search her face. Staring intensely.  “What?”

He licks his lips, shaking his head as he sits back into his own seat, still looking at her. “Just might have to keep you.”

Milan’s lips part as she breathes out, preparing to respond, only to be cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. Rafe glances down at his pocket, pulling his phone out and immediately frowning at the caller. Milan finds herself trying to quickly glance down at the phone to see the name. Only seeing a plug emoji and a period. Rafe ignores it once, declining the call and placing the phone face down on the table. He takes a sip of his coffee and looks lost in thought as his leg bounces under the table. 

The bouncing only gets worse as his phone vibrates this time and he wills himself to ignore it. 

Milan slides her hand over Rafe’s knee, offering him a soft smile. “Answer it. I’ll be fine here.”

Rafe eyes her for a moment before standing, grabbing his phone and dropping a kiss onto the top of her head as he makes his brief exit. Once he steps out of the restaurant, Milan adjusts herself in her chair to view the window better, pushing up onto her knees to see Rafe pacing outside on the phone. Beyond the muffled ‘what’ he grinds out, all Milan can hear is nondescript yelling as he storms around. The vein in the side of his neck threatens to pop and Milan is smug in the fact that it’s likely not another girl on the other side of the call, and if it was, it was clearly not one that he was currently happy with. 

Satisfied with her interpretation of his sudden emergency call, Milan settles back into her seat and goes back to eating her waffles. She opts for scrolling on her phone, kicking her own feet under the table as she tries to occupy herself in Rafe’s absence. And she was satisfied. 

For the first 10 minutes. 

By minute 15 she was mildly annoyed.

Minute 20, she was actively irritated.

By minute 25 she was fucking pissed. 

When a group of older women having some early morning mimosas glanced at her for the 6th time with their lips pursed in disapproval, Milan decides she’s had enough. She huffs and crosses her arms as she finishes the rest of her latte. 

By the time Rafe came walking back in she was putting her dior shades on and swinging her purse over her shoulder. 

“Hey, didn’t expect that to take so long-”

“I had them box up the rest of your stuff and tried to pay on my phone. They said you already did, so we’re good to go.”

“Okay-”

“M’gonna call a car to take me home so-” She shifts her weight to one leg, looking away from him. 

“A car?” Rafe’s brows furrow. “The fuck? Why?”

“Because, you’re like, clearly busy, so…”

“Yeah,” Rafe shakes his head, roughly tossing money down for the tip. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, like for real. You’re not takin’ a goddamn car. Let’s go.” 

Milan turns, walking out of the restaurant with her nose in the air, ignoring Rafe’s overwhelming presence very close behind her. 

“A temper tantrum isn’t how you get what you want, kid.”

“M’not a kid.” She huffs, tossing her hair and clutching her purse tighter to her side. She’d done this whole storming out of the restaurant bit without having the faintest idea about what would happen next. She didn’t actually know her way home from the restaurant. And her parents didn’t know where she was, so she wasn’t willing to embarrass herself by calling them.

Besides, she wanted him to chase her. He should sweat for making her sit there, waiting for him. Running his mouth on the phone. She was dedicating her day to him. She got so cute hanging out with him. And he’s taking fucking work calls. 

“Yeah, well you’re acting like one, so-”

“I don’t care.”

“‘Course you don’t.” He laughs humorlessly. Rafe shrugs as he strolls past her to his car, pulling open the passenger door and tilting his head, gesturing for her to get in. His face is full of disinterest as he reaches into his pocket, producing a strip of gum and holding it between his teeth for a moment as he pockets the pack before pulling it into his mouth. “I’ll take you home if you wanna go home.”

Milan scowls as she looks around the area. Pretty isolated. She definitely doesn’t know her way home and he had all of her stuff in his car. She could get a ride. Just a ride home. And then she would never talk to him again. He wasn’t even sorry. He seemed exasperated at her for being annoyed. When she’d told him to go ahead and answer, she couldn’t have known it would’ve led to a 30 minute intermission on their date. Or that she was expected to obediently sit there and wait for him to come back. Yeah. She’d be blocking him when he got home. It doesn’t matter how cute he is. “Fine. I’m over this date.”

“Fantastic.” He huffs, hoisting her roughly into the car, ignoring her squeak and careful still that she doesn’t hit her head, but plopping her onto the leather seats before closing her door. 

Milan wasn’t sure. She wasn’t positive exactly where her new house is, but it damn sure wasn’t in this neighborhood. 

There were abandoned tires, and people with crabs and fish in weird little cages on the side of the roads. It’s decidedly…dirtier, and less…island-paradise like. The people seemed dirty and tired. It was louder and full of roadblocks. Milan’s eyes glance over at the lock on the car door multiple times, biting her lip as she scoots away from the door and silently closer to Rafe. 

Rafe, who has been quiet this whole ride, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming irritatingly along with some song he was playing. Rafe who has been going undetected in his glances he’d sent Milan’s way, out of the corner of his vision he watches her. He’s smug at her wide eyes taking in the more impoverished neighborhoods of Outer Banks, watching her body language shift from indignant and prideful to reliant on him as he drives them deeper into the cut. 

“Um…Rafe?” Her voice is small as he watches her hands grip her seatbelt. “Wh-where are we going? Because…I, this isn’t where I live.”

“Aw, yeah, I know, I know. I just uh,” He sniffs, “I’ve got some shit to handle, and uh, since you said the date’s over, I figured I could do what I had to do, before I drop you off.” His cheeks dimple as he rolls his lips inward to disguise his smirk when Milan just nods quietly, scooting even closer to him as some guys walk closely to the car to get to the opposite side of the road. 

Rafe can feel the temper tantrum fading off of Milan as he pulls to a stop in front of the shithole Barry calls a house. He turns the engine off and pretends to start to get out, painting a look of confusion onto his face when she grabs his forearm. “Wait. You’re gonna…you’re gonna go in there?”

“Yeah, you can stay here and wait or you could come with me.”

He watches the wheels turn in her head as she looks around at the other houses, seeing people coming in and out of them. A dog chained to a tree next door starts barking loudly and Milan gasps under her breath, unbuckling her seatbelt and jumping out on her own this time. 

She stands close as Rafe walks to the door, still careful to glance back at her and the yard behind him. He means to scare her into acting right, not put her in actual danger. He’d need to be on go if any of the shifty idiots Barry deals with is around. He wraps his arm around her as he knocks with his other hand, rapping his knuckles twice rapidly and one more time after a beat. Rafe waits a moment before pushing the door open and guiding Milan in.

“Country Club, what the fuck is up?” 

He could laugh. He could audibly laugh at the squeak Milan swallows down as she sees Barry and the inside of his house. There’s drugs in bags out on the table, labeled and separated by location. Two lines are already set on the counter, a disregarded store gift card settled into the leftover powder. Milan’s manicured nails dig into his arm as Barry whistles, taking her in. “‘Sup, man.” Rafe greets, dapping his dealer, watching him closely as he refuses to take his eyes off of the girl under Rafe’s arm.

“Aren’t you pretty, Princess.” Barry grins, leaning down to view Milan’s face better. 

“Thank you.” She chirps from her spot, damn near buried in Rafe’s chest. 

“Introduce us, Country Club.”

Rafe purses his lips. He doesn’t want to. This whole plan of taking her out here was to scare her a little bit. Make her chill out and see he’s doing serious shit and taking care of things. Show her he’s a man who does business and if she was gonna be his girl he needed her to respect that. Barry usually curled his lip up at girls like Milan. That’s why he needs middle men, he knows that he scares them, but needs to move weight somehow. Since he and Rafe had been partners, business had been better than ever. But the way he was eyeing the woman next to him wasn’t just scaring her, it was pissing him off too. 

The way Milan is clutching him, blinking up at him through her pretty, dark lashes, had Rafe wetting his lip. Right back where he wanted her. That’s it baby, need me. He smooths his thumb over her hip, tugging her even closer. “Baby, this Barry, we’re uh, business associates. This is my girl.”

“That’s your name, shorty? Rafe’s girl?” Barry runs his hand along his beard, still not tearing his eyes away from her, ignoring Rafe’s steely gaze drilling down on him.

Rafe doesn’t know what happens. But he’s pretty sure it’s the sexiest thing that he’s ever seen. 

He’d seen a glimpse of this. Back when he’d met Milan’s mother. The way she was with her husband. The way she played her role in the stupid ass dance expertly, outplaying Rose for damn sure. She was the perfect partner. Participating, but letting Mr. Cabot do his thing. Looking gorgeous and unobtainable. Supporting him, telling stories that somehow end up making him seem like the man and provider that boys like young Rafe grow up striving to be. Making other men envious of the lives they don’t have and can’t afford. Being the perfect woman to complete that kind of man. 

Rafe could almost nut watching Milan fall into place, shocked at her capabilities despite knowing she’s basically been bred for it. The crescents her nails are digging into his arm are left empty as she runs her hand along his forearm. Her shoulders roll back as she stands more confidently, a polite, still cautious smile on her face. “It’s nice to meet one of Rafe’s business partners.”

She’s perfect.

Barry glances between the two of them, scoffing. “Yeah, okay.” Barry turns around walking around his worn coffee table and sitting on one of the lawn chairs he has set up in his living room, leaving them the couch. His dark eyes watch carefully as Rafe sits on the stained, old couch, tugging Milan onto his lap because he’d noticed her eyeing the dirty fabric hesitantly. “Your girl gonna sit here while we talk business or what Country Club? I don’t fuckin’ know her.”

“Shut the fuck up man, she stays with me. She knows I gotta work.” Rafe says irritably, tugging Milan’s dress down again, shielding as much of her skin as possible from Barry. “Right, sweetheart?”

Milan wrenches her eyes away from the shotgun Barry has leaning against the wall leading to the kitchen to look at Rafe. “Y-yeah. Yes.”

Barry gives her a creepy grin, sending a shiver down her spine that has Rafe rubbing her arm as if she were cold. “Aww, Country Club. Isn’t she a good girl?”

“Mhm. My good girl.” Milan shifts in his lap at that, earning an inquisitive look from Rafe before he focuses in on his conversation with Barry. “What’s uh, what’s good with the shipment for Thursday? I need that shit ready at the private dock by Saturday morning. Buyer’s only here until 7:00.”

“Look, Country Club,” Barry sighs, sitting back in the lawn chair, pulling a blunt he’d had tucked behind his ear to his lips. He fumbles around in his pocket, producing a red lighter and tries to spark it to life. “My boys are ready for pickup, but those people down South haven’t picked up the goddamn phone for fuckin’ shit. My peoples can’t keep going down to the dock waitin’ for the cops to be on their asses. Not for the pennies you’re finna pay ‘em.”

“Pennies.” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. Their broke asses should be grateful for the scraps he was willing to throw them. His knee jumps rapidly underneath Milan’s weight as his brain moves a mile a minute. The shipment was a big fucking deal. It held art pieces that some associates of his father had needed him to procure. Barry had fuckin’ sworn he and his boys could handle a job like this, and the block had been too hot from before for Rafe to be moving the merchandise himself. “I mean, they fuckin’ need it don’t they?”

Barry chuckles, blowing out the smoke from his blunt, causing Milan to turn her head from the smoke. 

“Wanna stop blowin’ that shit in my girl’s face?”

The shorter man laughs again, taking another drag, this time turning his head and blowing the smoke to the side. “I don’t blame you, Country Club, pretty little thing like that, I’d be tryin’ to keep her nice and clean too.” Rafe’s jaw clenches as he tightens his arm around Milan’s waist, relaxing only slightly when she places her hand over his. “Ain’t that beautiful? Chill your crazy ass out, Country Club, I’m payin’ you a compliment. I’ll talk to my guys, aight? And I’ll hit you.”

“Get it done, man. Cause if I don’t get paid, a small cut will be the least of everyone’s fuckin’ worries, alright?”

When they get back into the car, the mask Milan had perfectly placed onto her face cracked almost immediately. Rafe watches her carefully as the look of nervousness sets back in, swimming with something else he can’t identify. 

Maybe he’d gone too far. Done too much. Something about her being mad earlier made him antsy. He’d worried when she was serious about not speaking to him anymore. He fucking gets it, right? He’s not an idiot. Rafe knows no one wants to be left alone for 30 minutes on a date. Especially a first date.  But if he’d learned anything from Ward it was that business is business. No matter what, work needs to be done. That’s how they can afford the nicest house on the island. That’s why Rafe and his siblings had everything they’d ever wanted and needed. Hell, its why Rafe could afford to enroll a girl he was taking on a first date in a gym membership that includes pilates classes that cost $200 per session. 

But the scared look on her face was causing an ache in his chest that told him it wasn’t worth it. 

“Uh, look-”

“Do you go there a lot?” Milan asks, turning in her seat to face Rafe completely. 

“Nah, uh, usually I’m straight with a couple phone calls, but we needed to talk about the shipment you heard us mentioning. I didn’t mean to have to take you out here but uh, y’know.”

“And that guy, he works for you?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He shrugs.

Milan smoothes a hand over her hair, glancing out of the window and then back at Rafe. “He’s a little scary. He had guns in his house.”

“Yeah?” Rafe tosses his head back a little, resting it onto the headrest,  taking a risk and placing his hand on Milan’s thigh. He buries a sigh of relief when she doesn’t move away from his soft grip. “You’re not scared of me though.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“No?”

“No, you’re not scary. You’re…a little mean.” she huffs, dropping her own hands over Rafe’s, toying with his fingers in her lap. “It’s our first date.”

“Yeah.” Rafe hums dragging his thumb across her skin, blue eyes flicking between her eyes and her plump lips. “But, uh, I gotta work right? If I wanna keep takin’ you out on nice dates, right, baby?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he leans forward and kisses her pout, capturing her lips deeply and briefly before pulling back to rest his forehead on hers. “Gotta keep makin’ money so I can keep you feeling good about walkin’ around with a purse full of nothin’ but lip gloss right?”

Milan shifts a little in her seat, leaning back a little, only for Rafe to pull her forward a little, guiding her further over the console. “I sat by myself for a long time, Rafe. I didn’t know that call would take that long. It was embarrassing.”

Oh. Oh. 

“I’m sorry, princess.” He mocks her pout with his own, pressing another heated kiss to her cheek, checking the window behind them to ensure no one was watching him coddling her out of her mood. “But, uh, you know anyone looking was just jealous right? Just like those bitches in the gym, huh? You’re just so fuckin’ pretty, and good, and your man only lookin’ at you. While all those old, little blue pill poppin fuckers their stuck with were eye fuckin’ you.” Rafe murmurs against her jaw. 

It was true. Everyone had been looking at them the whole breakfast. They were the most interesting spectacle in the whole damn restaurant. Not only was Rafe Cameron strolling in with a beautiful woman, they’d openly been showing affection. Touching, kissing, feeding each other. And she was new. Fresh meat. No one had seen her before. They had to be wondering where he’d dug her up. She looked too expensive and spoiled to be a pogue, with her all Dior outfit and permanent pout on her face. But they were all obviously wondering why they hadn’t seen her before. 

Staking his claim over the new girl who claimed the title of most gorgeous woman in Outer Banks made Rafe puff up his chest with pride. But he didn’t consider what the process of staking that claim meant for Milan. 

He’s shaken from his thoughts by her gentle hand going to his cheek, her head tilted cutely. Her brows furrow as she stares at him “Won’t happen again, right?” 

Eh. Probably. He thinks.

“No, baby.” He presses a kiss to the middle of her palm, turning into her hand. 

“Kay.” She sighs, leaning back into her seat, staring forward at the road, dropping both of her hands back into her lap, rubbing them along his own large hand gripping her thigh. “So, how are you gonna make it up to me?”

To be fair, Rafe had already planned to do this. 

He does not bargain with terrorists, nor does he reward bad behavior, even if it’s cloaked in the hottest girl he’d ever seen. He was not taking Milan out on his boat because he had something to make up to her. It was because he’d felt like going out there, and now that she saw that he was working on something big when he’d left her she was acting right enough for him to want to take her. 

Not because he felt bad that he’d pissed her off earlier. 

That’s what he tells himself as he helps her down the boat steps, her heeled sandals clacking on the hard floor as he guides her down. Her eyes are bright as she looks around the boat, her hair blowing in every direction and framing her pretty face. He snorts and nudges her face the other way with his index finger earning a giggle from her before heading over to the steps leading down to the below deck lounge area, reaching behind him for her to take his hand. The boat hands go to work quickly, the motor already whirring to life as he grows tired of her cautiously stepping down and lifts her off of her feet, taking her down the last two steps and placing her onto the deep blue couch. Milan reaches out, grabbing his hand and tugs in down next to her, tossing her legs over his lap.

“So.” she chirps, sliding Rafe’s hand back down her leg, interrupting its ascent up her skirt. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Milan Cabot.” he hums, reaching up and drawing the blinds shut. Milan swallows as her eyes follow Rafe’s muscled arm behind her head and she wonders if he’d let her trace the map of veins. She shakes her head, reopening the blinds as they feel the boat jerk out onto the water, the window giving them a clear view of outside.

“First date, and we got into two fights, that’s probably a record.” She smiles, leaning her face close to his, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Still like me?”

“Eh, you’re alright.” He shrugs, taking his hat off and placing it onto her head, chuckling when she whines about her hair but leaves the hat on. “Fuckin’ lucky that you’re cute.” 

“I know.” Milan shrugs, sitting up and peaking over her shoulder to ensure none of the crew was making their way down the stairs before repositioning herself, bracketing her legs around Rafe’s and resting her arms on his shoulders. She rolls her eyes when his hands slide over her ass, pulling her more firmly into his lap. “So, let’s talk.”

“Mm, about what? Wanna fight again?” He smirks, squeezing the fat of her butt and scrunching his nose as she leans forward and bites his cheek briefly.

“Maybe later. I wanna talk about what you want.”

He drags her hips forward again. “I think it’s pretty clear what I want.” 

“‘M’not asking about him,” she giggles, pointing between them at the tent in his pants. She drags her finger up to his forehead, poking a finger at him. “‘M’asking about this. What do you want from me?”

“I feel like I made that clear too.”

Milan sighs, toying with the tip of Rafe’s ear, ignoring when he briefly tries to swat her hand away. “Yeah, you took me out, called me your girl and stuff, but what does that mean? Like a relationship?”

“Too fast for you?” Rafe asks, disapproval clear on his face.

“Not really. You?” 

“I uh, like to close deals as quickly as possible. I like what I like, I want what I want. The fuck would I pussyfoot around for?” He brings one hand up, lightly resting his large hand around her neck, guiding her close enough that their lips can brush.

“Who am I, Barry? You make it sound like a business deal.” She breathes against his lips.

“Isn’t that what it is?”

She doesn’t like that, pulling back a little, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly as she fights to stand her ground, the determination only causing Rafe to stare at her wolfishly, wetting his lips. “Make it sound better.”

Rafe blinks at her command, forcing his more normal thoughts to the forefront of his brain to push back the disgusting lust filled ones that threatened to spill out. His gaze focuses on her big brown eyes, and sees that same look he couldn’t understand earlier. It makes his heart beat faster and confuses him even more this time. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Her eyes widen, only making the look more clear and intense. Milan takes a deep breath, eyes flicking down to his mouth before meeting his. “I…I like you. So, make it sound better. Please.”

“I’ve never met someone like you.” He blurts. Rafe can’t stop the words, it’s like vomit. The only other time he’d been unable to have control, to choose his words carefully was… “You’re different…but you’re like me. And I uh…I want you to be for me. And I’ll…I’ll take care of you. D-don’t you want that?”

He needs her to say yes. He doesn’t know how he’d respond if she didn’t say yes. Today…being with her already felt like the new normal. He hadn’t…he hadn’t thought about Ward all day. He hadn’t craved a smoke, or blunt, or coke. She could make his leg stop jumping. She could make his jaw stop clenching. She was sent here for him. Milan had to see that too.

His rapid thoughts slow as he feels her soft hands cup his cheeks as she closes the distance between them, kissing them deeply. Rafe groans as he grips her tightly, tilting his head to kiss her deeper. Without separating from him Milan mumbles against his lips. “I want flowers…nice ones. By tomorrow.” 

“Fuckin’ brat.” He grinds out against her lips before pushing his tongue into her mouth. Rafe stands, carrying her with him then lying her down on the couch, kissing along her cheek before sucking at the skin of her neck and jaw. “There’ll be rules.”

“I do well with structure.” she whimpers as his hand slides down her body stopping on the expanse of her stomach to tug her dress up and push his fingers into her panties. “Rule number one-” Milan digs her fingers into his shoulder as she feels one of his large digits push into her, causing her to arch slightly off of the couch. “I don’t put out on the first date.”

Rafe pulls back to look at her again, searching her face for seriousness and being shocked when he finds it there. But he’s even more shocked at the thought that crosses his mind next.

This woman has to be special. That’s all he can think. Because Rafe Cameron was about to do something he never does. At least not first.

*

“That’s uh, that’s cool.” He mumbles, his voice gravelly with want. He slowly hooks his fingers in the straps of her underwear, careful not to pull them down her hips yet. “But, uh, how about you let me make you feel good, huh? Just a taste, princess. Just lemme meet her.” 

Milan glances toward the steps and then back at Rafe who made himself busy sucking a hickey into the skin on her thigh. “They won’t hear me?”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em if they do.” 

There was quite literally no way she could know how serious he was.

Which is how she ended up with her back fully arched off of Rafe Cameron’s couch below the deck of his boat with his face buried between her thighs. Guys like Rafe don’t usually just volunteer to go downtown. The ones that look like that don’t have to. Even with girls like Milan. And when they do, they certainly don’t do it like him. 

They don’t take their large hands and cover the expanse of your stomach, holding you in place while they suck on your clit. They don’t hook your legs over their arms and moan against your skin. They don’t grumble, ‘c’mon baby…I can’t hear you’ and ‘fuck, you’ve got the best pussy, gorgeous.’ They don’t mock your groans and whines in their deep voice, offering mumbles of ‘oh yeah?’ and ‘I know’. They definitely don’t push up and over you with their strong arms and hook their thumb into your mouth before spitting into it so you can taste yourself.

But Rafe ate her out like he was proving a point. Like he was sending a message with every kiss, every lick. She’d never had someone feel like they were so in control while they were on their knees. He demanded so much from her and barely bothered asking her to do anything at the same time. He bent her legs in whatever way he deemed convenient, assuming she would fit into whatever shape he wanted. He stared at her in warning when her legs shook and tried to close, letting her know he wasn’t done. And when she came for a second time, he told her they both knew she could do a third. 

*

When they are both satisfied Rafe kisses her on the mouth deeply, lifting her into his arms once again, sitting back on the couch on his lap. As they pull apart he has a smug smile on his face and sweeps his thumbs under her eyes. “Aww. Did you cry for me, pretty girl?”

“Shut up!” Milan huffs, burying her face in his chest. 

“Ah, don’t do that now. That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago. Was it, George?” He calls upstairs to the deck hand walking by. Milan gasps as the man responds an obedient, ‘uh, no, Mr. Cameron.’ 

“Pfft.”

“Rafe!” 

“Chill out, baby, He agrees to whatever I say, he’s not listenin’. If he was, he'd be at the bottom of the marsh by now.” 

Milan rolls over in her cool silk sheets and stretches as much as she can, cracking both sides of her neck before swinging her legs over the side of her bed. She sighs happily to herself as she pulls her sleep mask off of her head and places it inside of her bonnet, tossing it onto her bed. Milan grabs her robe, tugging it on and snatches her phone off of her bedside table, smiling to herself when she sees her display screen. 3 missed calls and 4 texts from Rafe.

Morning, Princess. - 6:07 a.m.

Let’s make today a good one, yeah? I’ll pick you up soon. - 6:12 a.m.

Spoiled ass, still sleeping, huh? We’re going to the gym. - 6:30 a.m. Aww he tried to be patient.

Send me a picture of your face when you see it, baby. Told you I work to deliver. - 6:46 a.m.

“See what?” she mutters under her breath, putting her phone into her robe pocket and leaving her bedroom to head down the stairs. She gasps as she heads around the corner of the foyer and finds 11 large bouquets of red and white roses lining the doorway. “Oh my God.” She giggles, bending and picking up one of the large bouquets. 

“There are 12 total.” Ally announces as she makes her way into the room. She places her hands on her hips as she stands next to Milan, shaking her head at the display. “And a note,” she produces a white envelope. “That I’m supposed to hand deliver because I was tipped very generously to tell your parents that these are from the Cameron family to the Cabots.”

“How…” Milan snorts, tucking her chin against her shoulder sheepishly. “How nice of them. Very nice welcome.” 

“Mhm.” Ally swats Milan’s arm, whispering in her ear. “Next time, tell Lover Boy to hire some delivery guys so I don’t have to lug these all over the house, will you?”

Milan bites her lip to hold back her smile, ripping open the envelope and laughing out loud at the message. 

I don’t half ass anything, I won’t start with us. If you’re in, you’re all in. No turning back now. You’re mine.

She quickly dials his number, rolling her eyes at the look Ally sends her as she makes her way back up the stairs. Milan is unsurprised when he picks up on the first ring. “Good morning. Thank you for the roses. Even if they came with a threatening message.”

“Oh, baby,” the phone balancing against her shoulder and ear muffles his voice. “It’s not a threat, it’s a guarantee.” 

[ggensblog]

Hiya! How are you? Could I request a fluffy fic with James Potter please? Maybe the reader ismt used to being loved, comes from a broken home, and everything James does flusters her while melting her heart. Like them sitting in the common room with friends but all James can think is to make sure the reader feels good and even braids her hair whilst getting teased by Sirius

damn y'all know how to tug on my heartstrings, I hope you enjoy ! thank you for the request <33

word count; 645

this is a fem!reader with hair about long enough to be braided

------

It had been a long day of classes. Why you had so many in one day was a mystery to you but it didn’t matter anymore cause you were finally done. The halls and stairs seemed to be never ending as you made your way back to the Gryffindor common room. You wanted nothing more than to change into sweatpants and curl up in bed, maybe with James. 

When you finally made it back to the common room you found said boy and his friends sitting around the fire. Some of them studying, others very blatantly playing cards or talking to one another. You grinned at the sight. Hogwarts had become more a family to you than you expected, and it was a well needed family compared to what you were coming from.

James was really the only one that knew the extent of your issues back home, but never brought it up unless you wanted to. Everyone else just assumed you weren’t one to talk about your past.

You set your bag down at one of the tables and made your way to the group. Your bed could wait a little longer. It was almost like James could sense your presence without so much as looking up because before you knew it he had met you halfway and was pulling you into his arms.

You wrapped your own arms around his waist and let out a relieved breath. James’s hugs were nice, full of love, sincere, he-

“Everything alright lovely?” You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly.

“Yeah, they are now.” your arms move from his waist to hold his hands. James presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Alright we get it you’re in a loving relationship, Prongs are you in for the next round?” You could hear the playful eye roll in Sirius’s voice. He liked to tease the two of you, mostly because James was the only one you were affectionate with in public, but partly because he had no idea the way Remus looked at him when he wasn’t paying attention.

You and James walked back over to the couch, James settling on it, and you opting for the ground in front of him. It was almost immediately when James started to brush his fingers through your hair.

Physical affection you had learned was his love language. It was admittedly hard to get used to at first, but you knew every caress, every hug, every kiss, was always full of love.

You watched Lily and Sirius play cards, Peter sitting by and trying to play but ending up on the losing end of the game. Remus was scribbling something down on parchment, looking up every once in a while to see how the game was going.

James began to braid your hair back. Nothing major, just a simple braid, but it was exactly what you needed for the end of your day. Lily had taught him how to braid one day in potions when they were partners and her hands were coated in blue sludge. It turned out to be more in your favor that he knew how. Though it didn’t always turn out to be the prettiest braid, you appreciate his effort.

James tapped your shoulder and you handed him one of the hair ties on your wrist. You laughed as Lily took the round and moved to sit on the couch with James.

“Wanna talk about your day?” James shifted so you were laying with your head on his lap. You shook your head in reply, much more content and comfortable than you had been 20 minutes ago. James smiled and nodded then looked back as Sirius began to demand a rematch. Poor Peter had basically given up by now, but it remained all in good fun.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to end your day.

[giggly-squiggily]

Attention (Tengoku Struggle)

*kicks door in* Hey! :D That was aggressive- How are y'all? So I'm kinda addicted to Tengoku Struggle. Sharaku is literal perfection in my eyes, so it only felt right to start off the first fic of the fandom with him! :D I hope y'all like it!

CW: Suggestive humor (Sharaku's a bit of a slut lol)

Summary: Sharaku's feeling needy and wants attention. Rin learns firsthand what happens if you ignore such a demanding soul.

“Hey…” A poke to her back brought Rin out of her book. “I’m bored.”

“Congratulations.” She didn’t turn to look at him, fighting down a smile at the small whine he made. Sharaku could be quite needy from time to time. Truly a cat, personified.

“So cold..I’m gonna die of a broken heart, you’re so mean to me.” He poked her back again, flicking at the ends of her long hair and further cementing her mental comparison. “Those plant books really are more important to you, huh?”

Rin merely turned the page of her book, humming as she carried on reading. The pokes continued, her hair getting gently tugged and swatted at from time to time. Eventually she felt him sit up, gathering it to braid. “It’s silky. You’ve been using that tea tree oil I gave you.”

“Everyday, without fail.” She finally let herself smile, his fingers gentle as they folded the dark strands into a neat plait. “Though I do like it when you apply it. It works better.”

“Ah, so that’s what I am to you- your personal stylist!” He was grinning, she could hear it in his voice as he worked the braid down her back, tying it off and giving it a playful tug. “I’m gonna have to start charging- 300 ryo per hairstyle.”

“That’s surprisingly low, given how much you charge the others.”

“You get a discount.” He leaned in and kissed her ear, making her skin warm and breath shudder. “Of course, if you really insist on paying me in full, you can in other ways~”

Rin rolled her eyes, fighting down a blush at his lewd comment. Instead of humoring him, she pointed at one of the plants in her book, murmuring about how lovely it was.

 It wasn’t long before she could feel him leaning into her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Riiiiiin…”

“I’m reading. Join me if you’re so bored.”

“Books aren’t interesting to me. I’m more of a visual guy.” Sharaku poked her side, making her twitch. “Wanna watch a movie? We can recreate a steamy scene or two..”

“Stop being annoying!” She elbowed him, squirming when he poked her sides more. She knew there was no mercy in her future now that she reacted. “If you don’t wanna read, go draw something!”

“I need inspiration. A muse.” His little pokes grew, both hands joining the fray in tickling her. “Give me a smile- I wanna paint you.”

“Paint something e-else! Ugh, Sharaku!” Dropping her book, she grabbed his hands as she twisted to face him, glaring as hard as she could. “You’re acting like such a child! Stop it!”

Sharaku merely grinned back at her, eyes twinkling. Without any warning, he leaned in and stole a kiss. “S-Sharaku!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I can feel you blushing.” Oh, how insufferable he was! Trying to pretend his comment didn’t ring true, she battled the hands resuming their annoying quest at her sides, fighting down giggles whenever he landed a poke. “Come on, you know you do! You love me soooooo much!”

“Yoohou’re so stuhuhpid! Ahehaha, stahhahap!” Unable to fight back- or perhaps she wanted to lose- Rin fell back against the sheets of his bed, twisting this way and that as his fingers danced up her ribs. “Shahahahahhaku! Gehehhet ohohf meehhehe!”

“No way! I figured you were ticklish, but this? This is amazing!” His fingers were inquisitive as they walked up and down her torso, gently prodding along her hips and waist to see what would give him the best reaction. When he poked along her highest rib, she let out an embarrassingly high squeal. “Uh-oh, I found your tickle spot~”

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhp! Thahaht’s nohooht truhuhue-EHehehehehehk!” Okay, maybe it was true. Sharaku focused his efforts on drilling two fingers onto each side of her upper ribs, using his body weight to keep her pinned beneath him as she shrieked and cackled like a witch. “Shahhahaku, pleahhahahahse!”

“Please what? Keep tickling you?” He grinned against her neck, gently nuzzling it and worsening her ticklish state. “For someone who acts so stubborn, you sure are cute when you’re laughing like this.”

“Iihihihihm nohohohohot cuhuhuhuhte!”

“Sorry, but you’re really cute. Adorable even.” He kissed the spot along her pulsepoint, the feeling both tingly and ticklish. Too bad the latter was far more present as his hands shot back to her waist, kneading like a cat’s paws. “I like making you scream my name. Wasn’t it you who said I have magic hands the other night?”

“Dohohohn’t be soohohoho grohohohoohss! Gehahahaha, cohohohme on- tihihihme ohohohut, tihihihime oohohohut!” She tugged at his sweater repeatedly, gasping for air when he paused his antics. “Geahhaha..hehehaha..hohohold on..juhuhst a sehehehcond mhohohore…”

“Wow, you want me to keep going?” Sharaku looked both surprised and delighted, kissing her flushed cheek as she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know you liked this sort of thing, babe.”

Did she? Rin couldn’t recall the last time someone tickled her like this. Oshichi would occasionally poke her sides when they sat by the Sanzu River, and she could recall small occasions where Sensei Nono ran a quick finger along the back of her neck whenever she was too lost in thought during lessons.

Maybe in her forgotten past, perhaps. Even without that- she couldn’t deny the lightheaded feeling was refreshing. So much had happened since she came to the human realm- it was nice to really let herself go and just breathe.

“I think I do..” She found herself speaking out loud, blushing bright red at his brow. “Shush.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyebrows are too loud.”

“Pfft-” Sharaku fell into her, laughing against her neck. It was tingly like before, but Rin found she rather liked the feeling. “Yohohou’re cute. But seriously- you really like this?” He ran his hand against her side, tapping against her ribs and making her tense. “Me tickling you, yeah?”

“Iihihs it a bahahd thing if I do?” She giggled through her words, her voice catching when he met her gaze. There was such a love in his eyes, it made her nearly forget where she was.

“Farthest thing from it. I like that about you. Our Lord Hell Guardian has some really sweet quirks about her.”

She would have pinched him for that if he hadn’t started tickling her again, bringing both hands back to her waist as she attempted to curl up on herself, giggling like a child. “Ahehahahaha! Yohohohou’re goohohohd at thihihihis!”

“Like you said the other night- I have magic hands.” He grinned, laughing when she did pinch him. “Just so you know- I’m gonna tickle you more if you don’t pay attention to me.”

“Oohohoh so thahhaht’s hohohow it ihihis? I’hihihll hahahve to ihihihgnore yooohohu more ohohoften- EHEHEHEK!” She squealed when he went for that bad spot again, digging ruthlessly into it. “Shahhaharkau pleahahhahahhase!”

“Take it back!” He demanded, nose to nose with her with eyes full of warmth. “Take it back right now.”

“Fiihihih-EHEHEHE! FIHIHIHNE! I thahahake it bhahahack! I tahhahke it bahahahck!” She really needed to watch her mouth around him. With another kiss to her giggly lips, he finally stopped tickling her- pulling her lightheaded form into his arms as they laid back in bed. Gasping for air, she clung to him- truly believing at some point this was the end.

Well, technically they were already dead. Not a terrible way to go out, though.

“You good?” He asked her in a soft voice, running his fingers against her messy braid as she nuzzled further in his chest. Now that the tickling was over, she felt a wave of embarrassment flush through her body- the high from all that giggling coming down. “Did I go too far?”

“You’re fine.” She reassured him, wrapping her arms around his waist in an exhausted hug. “I just feel really good right now. And embarrassed. A ticklish Hell Guardian- how silly is that?”

Sharaku laughed beneath her, rubbing her back. “It’s really silly, but it’s not like you’re the only one here who’s ticklish. Everyone is.”

She blinked a few times, the words melting into the cracks of her mind. “Everyone?”

“Yeah- especially Kiku. Something about those hyper-senses or whatever.” That made sense to her. She could see their resident wolf being ticklish. Yona as well. Goemon was hard to picture, but she couldn’t deny it felt like a genuine possibility.

And then there was…

“I know what you’re thinking.” He met her gaze with a small pout. “Yes, I am too. But if you tickle me, I’ll tickle you back tenfold. I’ll get you so bad, you’ll have to explain to the guys why you ended up in the onsen after.”

Rin could barely hold back her smile- let alone her amusement. Falling into him, she clung to his sweater with a hearty laugh, feeling him tremble beneath her as he joined in. “I lohohove you so muhuhuch, Shahaharaku!”

“God, I love you too, you dork!” He pulled her closer and rolled them on their sides, nuzzling and kissing her neck until she was practically squealing once more.

She’d get him back eventually. Maybe not today, but definitely at some point. For now though, she let herself enjoy her big cat of a boyfriend and his silly antics.

Thanks for reading!

[luvtonique]

Hot Take Time

Okay, I'm gonna make a hot take. I want y'all to understand that this is coming from a 34 year old man who draws furry porn for a living and has regularly interacted with well over a thousand customers in his life, as well as partaken in various online discussions, social media platform conversations, and I've been pseudo-canceled a few times, so there you go, now we know each other, run on sentence.

I need to get something off my chest and a lot of you (I'd very safely say over 95% of social media and people in the political system and even regular media) need to get this through your heads.

Here we go, ready? Say this out loud.

"Nobody is responsible for making you feel comfortable, except yourself."

That is something that people just don't seem to understand anymore. We're in this day-and-age of people doing everything in their power to convince other people to change how they act, change what they believe, change the words they can or can't use because they are "not comfortable" and they believe it will make the world a "better place" if other people adhere to a set of guidelines that these people have deemed are necessary for the comfort of the people setting the guidelines (at the expense, of course, of the comfort of the others who are being forced to walk on eggshells).

I don't know how so few of you have a basic moral of "Life isn't fair."

It isn't. Perfection is unattainable, and yet so many of you don't fucking shut the fuck up about how everyone "needs to act" or how other people need to "be better."

Shut the goddamn fuck up, holy shit.

Nobody needs to act different so that you can be comfortable, just fucking grow a spine, holy shit. I don't care WHAT they're doing. I don't care if they're transphobic, racist, sexist, misogynistic, LGBT activists, Trump supporters, Biden supporters, I literally do not give the slightest iota of a fuck. Do they make me uncomfortable? Of course they do. That's why I don't interact with them. For my own comfort I just don't. I do what makes me comfy, I eat pizza, I drink hot cocoa, I take a fucking nap, I take some painkillers for my joint pain, I do a weed gummy, I listen to music, I watch a movie, I sit outside and watch rain fall, I FUCKING RELAX.

I have rheumatoid arthritis and am in excruciating pain 24/7/365 and there is nothing I will ever be able to do about that. Do I complain about it? Sure I do. Do I appreciate it when people carry heavy things for me so I don't have to? Sure I do.

But do I stand there next to a heavy box waiting for someone else to pick it up and then go "EXCUSE ME. I HAVE ARTHRITIS. YOU SHOULD PICK THE BOX UP FOR ME. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU TO PICK THE BOX UP" because I'm of some fucking delusion that everyone on earth has to cater to my disability?

FUCKING. NO.

You know why? Because I, unlike a fucking huge percentage of you all, understand that it is not everyone else's responsibility to cater to me and improve my level of comfort.

Especially if they're not getting paid to do that. If I were paying them, sure, that'd be fine. That's what maids are for, right? But they're not getting paid, and that's where it becomes a very bad thing.

Slavery.

But apparently y'all don't seem to understand that making people do special services or cater their behavior to you without any payment other than "not getting punished, canceled, attacked physically or screamed at" is literally textbook definition slavery. It is quite literally "Do this thing because I demanded it, and if you don't do it or if you do it in an unsatisfactory way, I will whip you."

Let's look at a hypothetical I made up myself.

Say there's a kid in school who, if they hear their name said out loud, attacks and bites the people who said that. There's been 15 incidents in a row, including two teachers being bit by this kid.

What's the solution?

Solution 1) Pull the kid out of school, contact their parents, suggest maybe therapy or putting them in special classes with a guardian of some sort, keep an eye on them, maybe they need to be medicated.

Solution 2) Tell the entire population of the school to stop saying the kid's name out loud and punish any kids who get bit because they broke the rule of catering to this psycho fucking bully.

How in the fuck do so many of you think Solution 2 is the correct solution? How the fuck do you think forcing 8 billion people to adhere to your specific demands via mass manipulation and forced control without any compensation other than "I won't bite you" is the correct course of action?

I have met people that literally their opening sentence is telling me how to talk to them and what things not to talk about around them, and when I asked "Why can't I talk about <completely mundane thing>" they literally had a fucking mental breakdown and got me banned from the Discord server I was in that they contacted me from.

And so many of you, SO MANY OF YOU will act like that's completely reasonable for them to have done and will say I AM THE BAD GUY for "DELIBERATELY ATTACKING THEM WHEN THEY ASKED ME NOT TO."

Holy fucking shit.

If you are so fucking bad off, so unhinged, that you have complete full fledged mental breakdowns over hearing a fucking word or because you scrolled past a text post you disagreed with or because someone voted for a politician you don't like, I'm sorry to say this but you desperately need to get your fucking head checked because that is NOT. FUCKING. NORMAL. BEHAVIOR.

"But Jay, being 'normal' is a social construct that-" SHUT UP.

Care for your own self, improve your own comfort and be happy with "Good enough" like the rest of the fucking world has been learning to do for fucking years, you actual fucking sociopathic manipulative shitfucks.

Thank you for reading.

~Jay (who has been labeled a transphobe for breaking up with a trans girlfriend after 9 years of her lying to him, manipulating him, forcing him to become trans out of emotional abuse, forcing him to attack his own mother, forcing him to pay for her HRT for multiple years and forcing him to be in a poly relationship while not letting him meet the other girlfriends she was fucking regularly while never meeting him IRL a single time. Yeah guess I shoulda stayed with her, I'm the bad guy for not continuing to let her abuse me because her abusing me was "making her more comfortable in the relationship." Listen. I hate to break this to you. But if you act like this, or defend these people, you are a fucking psychopath and I no longer give a shit what you think about me. You are a bad person.)

PS: I usually get people asking, when I make posts like this, "Jay, did something happen?" because y'all assume every time I wanna make a post like this, I just got out of a fight with someone and needed to vent. The truth this time is that this has been boiling up for the last 12 years I've been here on Tumblr, seeing more and more and more of this fucking manipulative sociopath behavior becoming more and more commonplace and accepted and more and more people are scared to speak out against it because if just one of you fucking psychos can damage our reputation and get us fired from our workspace, imagine what thousands of you could do. Well, I'm done catering to y'all. If you are my friend, I will gladly act a certain way around you to make you comfy because I always strive to make my friends, family members, ect. as comfortable as possible.

But if I haven't met you and I'm expected to cater to your comfort zone's rules before even saying hi to you? I'm just noping the fuck out of there because you are a sick, twisted pervert with a fucking power fetish who is blind to how much of a manipulative shitwad you are.

PPS: I know, the assumption here is "Jay's gonna start saying the gamer word to poke the beehive now! He's looking for a fight!"

No, I literally am not. Why would I? I'm trying to live and be comfortable why the shit would I go out of my way to rile the psychos up? I'm gonna just hang out with my friends and family and fans who love me and continue being a respectful person towards people who are respectful in return, rather than go out of my way to find horrible scumbag people and attack them deliberately because I wanna start a fight or some shit. Why would I wanna be in a fight? Why would I wanna deliberately troll or rile people up? That makes me feel bad. I was yelled at and beat by my father for 25 years why would I go try to get myself yelled at more? So take off the tinfoil hat, stop assuming I'm announcing I'm gonna be more openly disrespectful on purpose. I'm a respectful person, I don't attack people, I don't troll people, I don't do anything to deliberately harm anyone.

So I ask you very politely.

If anything you read here today has tarnished your opinion of me?

Please just block me and move on, holy shit. Do the right thing, make yourself more comfortable, stop interacting. Don't waste your time trying to "get through to me" just leave, it's not worth either of our time. Do that with everyone you strongly disagree with. If someone offends you so much you're shitting blood just block them. Why the fuck y'all gotta keep putting your heads in sharks' mouths and then complaining they keep bitin' you.

[isthisrealliiife]

Lawdamercy

tl;dr: life has happened in mostly good ways but consequently progress on an echo a stain has been necessarily delayed.

Next chapter will be up probably in mid-July.

First of all, Dave Chapelle is a transphobe piece of shit and I won't forgive him for it. But also a thousand years ago, when I was just a little baby teenage deviant in my first year of undergrad, I imprinted on a half-baked as my stoner movie so thoroughly that I feel certain that the above moment in that movie is a reflection of my very soul when I'm in distress. Also, Killer killed Nibbles. I will never pay another dime for anything he's done and it can be argued that by posting this gif I'm contributing to him remaining in the cultural consciousness of the West or the US or tumblr or whatever, but listen, y'all, sometimes there's tension between the things we connect with and there is no way to be ethical in the current late capitalist imminently apocalyptic hellscape, so I'm just gonna keep half-baked.

I'm Gen X and tired af. I will provide seasoning when Gen Z eats the rich and the boomers and whomstever else (lol not me I'm a public servant / educator / librarian who will never own property nor submit to these PWI motherfuckers for love or money), but just let me sit here in middle age with my smoke, my edibles, and my gotdamb movie lines. I love y'all. So in case you hadn't guessed (and why would you have? It's very unlikely you've read this far -- but if you have, maybe you HAVE guessed), I'm fucking exhausted.

Despite my well-laid plans, some things have happened in the past few weeks that demanded my attention. 1. My mom injured her knee and needed me to help her, so I did for about two weeks. 2. I finished my fucking project from hell.

I FINISHED MY FUCKING PROJECT FROM HELL.

I have to give a presentation on it Friday but then I'm going to be DONE with that fucking thing and the last class of this MLIS and I cannot describe in human language what it has taken for me to reach this point looooool lord bless Google Slides I guess

3. I completed two trainings, one to be a mandated reporter (which I already am but the laws have been updated) and one to learn how to prevent school violence and they were long and tedious and annoying to do because I'd already completed both and knew pretty much all the content already from being a public school educator for 10 years but the school where I got my MSEd lost my paperwork so here we are.

4. Secured a practicum / internship, the last missing puzzle piece to unlock my Master of Library and Information Science achievement, so my fatigue-d ass as been exhausting myself daily interning for a fuckin DOPE school librarian who is queer and my age and went to pride with her wife and two daughters and I've learned so much in the past two weeks I don't even know where to begin. So all that is to say, despite my previous promises, obviously, I have not posted any updates to an echo, a stain, nor will I be until at least mid-July because I'm going to sleep for a week once all this shit is wrapped up and my status as a Mistress of Library and Information Scientists is secured.

(Mistress Library and Information Scientist? I need it to be clear that I will not only be a Mistress of Scientists, but also a Scientist myself. If you want to know if my Mistress status will be as a kept woman or as a domme, the answer is yes and I'm currently accepting applications and formal proposals via asks and dms/pms/whatever tumblr calls them. All genders and identities welcome except stupid people with no imagination. GTFO. But if you've read this far, while it's plausible you're fucking unhinged, it seems highly unlikely that you're stupid OR unimaginative. WELCOME <3

So anyway please make any propositions or promposals fun and funny, and if you gonna be nasty, use your words and please make it hot. The world doesn't need more unsolicited nudes, genital pics, or milquetoast descriptions of sexytimes.)

ANYWAY Once my plate is clear and I can do other things with my time besides grind my bones to dust to prove to the PWI powers that be that I've humbled myself sufficiently to be worthy of their blessings, I'll be getting back into aeas with a thorough reread, revision of the next chapter (which yes, is already written, but is not fit for human consumption until it's been properly revised), and I guess its third act? I honestly don't know how many acts there are. I know I should. Maybe there are four. I know this is something I should know but I'm not a fiction writer by training or trade so I don't know how y'all frame these things. Anyway some wild shit is about to go down, don't think I've forgotten or gone soft. Errybody hold on to your panties because when I get back up in that shit we got some reckoning to deal with.

But first deadass animal antics because I WANNA AND IDGAF.

loooool OK seriously I'm crazy sleep deprived and I have a job interview Thursday and I need to create a slide deck for my internship mentor so I'mma go work on that byyyeeeeeee