#and know I'm having a fabulous time

[bumblingbabooshka]

They’re Back

[annatateson]

Disco Elysium Gothic and Lolita Tea Party Part 1: Klaasje and The Smoker LET'S GO BABYYYY!!!

I saw people doing EXCELLENT drawings of Harry Du Bois in lolita dresses and I'm obsessed! But why should he be the only one who partakes? What if EVERYONE gets a makeover and they have a big TEA PARTY!

My desk is now COVERED in Gothic and Lolita Bibles. No one is safe. Things are about to get FRILLY and FABULOUS. I did Klassje and The Smoker first at a request from my friend but I have sketched out many more already 3:)

More closeup pictures underneath...

[hum--hallelujah]

don't want to kill time like it doesn't matter - 3.5k words, (platonic) funkobra hurt/comfort

---

Ghoul is actually younger than Kobra. They always forget it though.

At least, they usually do.

Kobra's stopped shooting upright and reaching for his blaster whenever someone wakes him up at night. Stopped two years ago, honestly, when him and Ghoul started sharing a room. That was a collective decision that is very much not discussed. It left the old office as a perfect room for the Girl, in the end. Between Ghoulie and Girlie, the former of whom has wild, sleepless tendencies and the latter liking to scramble her way into bed with somebody else every other night of the week, Kobra's knee-jerk reaction has become more of a lack of reaction.

"Yo," hisses a pitchy voice. It's dead daylight, the heat of the day. This is the time of the year when you sleep while the sun's up, wait until the darkness falls to do anything or else it's too miserable or too dangerous. "Kobes."

Kobra utters a verbose "Hrrmngg?" and rolls over. He cracks an eye open to see Ghoul standing at the end of his bed. If it hadn't been light out, he'd be doing a good job of living up to his name. His hands are shaking, but when aren't they?

"You good, man?" Kobra asks groggily. He's half awake, half asleep, drifting in between the two states of being. Ghoul is shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. It makes the floor creak. It makes him look even smaller than he is. "Ghoulie?" He mumbles again when he gets no reply.

Ghoul makes a noncommittal half-whispered sound. "Wanna go for a joyride?" He asks instead of an answer.

Kobra blinks himself more fully awake and pushes up on one elbow. "Mirage or the 'Am?"

Ghoulie shrugs. Won't meet his eyes. Oh shit, that's not good. Something's got him worked up. It's too late for this. This is why they share a room now. They didn't used to, but Kobra refuses to let him sleep alone anymore. Kobra knows how he got that wicked scar that runs from the corner of his mouth nearly to his eye.

"Either," Ghoul says. "Doesn't matter much to me."

"Mirage," Kobra decides. He'll never say no to a late-night joyride. Not this kind. Party'll have his neck for sneaking out on the bike without letting anyone know, but the 'Am is too conspicuous when strange crews are out and from the look of him, riding double on the motorcycle will be good for Ghoul.

It's still too hot to be out. But going for a spin won't take too much exertion, getting to someplace with shade, so long as it's away from here, won't take too long. Ghoul's gonna get sunscorched. Maybe that's the point. While Kobra covers up with his jacket, Ghoul is still in the loose, half-covering clothes he sleeps in.

The sun glints painfully off the sand when they climb quietly out the window. No reason trying to get past Party when they've got an exit right here. Ghoul clambers out first with a probably accidental but surprisingly graceful roll and then flinches, violently, when Kobra jacket catches on what's left of the glass in the window and he tumbles haphazardly to the ground. They both hold still for a long dozen seconds, Kobra staring at the diner wall and straining to tell if anyone heard them, and Ghoul staring at Kobra and shaking.

When Party doesn't come along, eyes glinting with annoyed amusement, and yell at them for sneaking out, Kobra sits up and checks the hem of his jacket where it caught on the sharp edge. "Great," he mutters when he sees the tear in the lining. He'll have to sew that back together later. "Ghoul, you good?"

Ghoul shrugs and stands up. "Aren't I always?"

"No."

They stare at each other for a few seconds while Kobra rubs his palms together to clear the sand off them and reaches into his pocket for his gloves. "You're wearing a helmet," he says flatly.

Ghoul rolls his eyes and sneers. It crinkles the scar running up his face. "No way."

"Fine." Kobra doesn't push. Half the time he doesn't even wear his helmet. He's the driver. He'll keep them safe. It was worth a try, though. "Come on."

The heavy bay door of the garage makes too much noise to open without being caught. They slip in the side door and Kobra brings Mirage carefully back through it. He wears a helmet this time. Ghoul stands and waits, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet, while Kobra starts the bike and, out of habit, does a couple checks.

"You ready?" Kobra says, with the visor of his helmet flipped up.

Ghoul grins, but it's lacking in heart. So often, Kobra thinks he's not all there. So often, Kobra thinks this is his best friend. "Born that way," he replies.

"Come on then," Kobra says and nods for Ghoul to get on the bike with him. "Hey, hey. Hey, Ghoulie-" he says, when Ghoul is standing right at his shoulder, about to throw a leg over Mirage and climb on. "You okay?" He asks again, because he needs to know how safe any of this is.

Ghoul doesn't respond. Just settles himself behind Kobra and wraps his arms, tight, around Kobra's middle. Kobra stays there a second, until he's sure Ghoul's grip is solid, so that he can feel Ghoul breathing against his back, before he kicks off. He doesn't care if Party and Jet wake up now, they won't catch them. The bike's tires kick up a fountain of sand as he spins a loop, leaning into the turn until Mirage tilts close enough to the ground that Kobra could touch the sand if he reached out. Ghoul asked for a joyride. This is that.

"What the hell, man?!" Ghoul yells over Kobra's shoulder, muffled by the engine noise and his helmet. Kobra feels Ghoul's hands grab at the fabric of his shirt as he pulls around the first turn, bringing them around the back of a sand dune at full speed.

"Trust me?" Kobra shouts back. He's getting into it now, relaxing into each wide, showy swerve and fishtail. He slows down just a bit when he can feel Ghoul's fingernails start to bite into his skin. It makes him edgy when Ghoul is like this.

Ghoul sniffs sharply. "Well, yeah, but I've seen you crash out enough times at the track-"

"Aw, shut up," Kobra snaps back, without venom. Ghoul's his mechanic. He's seen his best wins and worst losses. "Where you wanna go?" He asks, after a few random turns, just drifting around in the sand. Ghoul is quiet. Kobra reaches back with one hand and smacks him on the leg after awhile. "Ghoulie, where we goin'?"

"I'm thinki-" Ghoul cuts himself off and when he speaks again his voice is flat and so quiet Kobra has to strain to hear him. "Turn right up here."

There's the remains of a road cutting across their path and Kobra hops Mirage up onto it, swings right and follows the pavement. Ghoul's grip around his chest has loosened, but Kobra can feel the fast, shallow rhythm of his breathing and the shaking of his hands even still. The road goes on for ages, long enough that it starts to feel infinite. This must have been a highway, back before the wars and BL/ind. At some point, Ghoul leans forward and puts his forehead against the back of Kobra's neck. Kobra can feel him pressed just below where his helmet sits.

"Get off at this turn," Ghoul mumbles suddenly, but not soon enough because Kobra completely overshoots the exit. He flips around the empty lanes of the highway, admittedly showing off mostly just to make himself feel better.

The group of buildings along the former highway off-ramp isn't really a ghost town. It's a cluster of old stores and restaurants, like the diner but mass produced, and down at the end is an ancient truck stop and gas station. Kobra slows the bike to a crawl as they drive down the street, struck with an eerie sense of deja vu. He's been here before. They both have.

He pulls over and stops in the middle of the road, beside what used to be a coffee store. Coffee is usually made in the form of compressed, dried out shots now, called Motor Juice in the Zones when rehydrated. They don't have coffeeshops in the City. They have prescriptions.

Ghoul is off the bike and Kobra's back suddenly cold even under the heat of the sun before Mirage even comes to a full stop. "Ghoul-" Kobra snaps, angry for reasons he can't even say and unsettled in ways he doesn't want to. This is a ghost town. Just not in the normal way. "Ghoul. What are you-"

But Ghoul is walking away, his back to Kobra and the bike as he moves toward the gas station as if it's a magnet and he's the blade of a knife, trembling so hard with the pull that it might break. Kobra hesitates, then swings his leg over Mirage and bumps out the kickstand. Ghoul is standing stock still, or as still as he can, on the faded pavement of the gas station parking lot. Kobra's glad it's faded. He doesn't want to see the bloodstains.

Ghoul looks small as he approaches, absolutely miniscule. He's got his arms wrapped tight around himself and Kobra can hear the harshness of his breathing even from several strides away. He doesn't want to get too close too fast. Ghoul's enough like a wild animal that it could turn out badly, and Kobra for once really doesn't want to fight him today. Not out here, at least.

They're within two years of each other, Kobra and Ghoul. They usually forget they're not the same age. But right now Ghoul looks so small and so, so young and Kobra doesn't know what to do.

"Gh- Ghoul. Ghoulie." Kobra calls carefully, stumbling over his tongue. He clamps his teeth together, takes a deep breath. "Ghoul."

Ghoul doesn't turn, doesn't look away from the door into the gas station he'd been found in, back when Kobra and Poison and Jet were a crew of three and Ghoul'd been even more feral than he is now. The gas station where Ghoul watched his entire family die and he was helpless to do anything about it. He still thinks he hadn't done enough. Kobra knows that. Ghoul always thinks he didn't do enough. That one kid with a blaster and wild eyes could take down a full squad of Dracs and two Crows.

Kobra doesn't know how to tell him that if he'd tried, he would be dead too. Kobra doesn't know how to tell him he's glad he didn't. When it comes down to it most, Kobra finds he can't speak.

"Ghoulie," he says again. "Hey. Hey." He moves closer, pulls off the helmet he'd almost forgotten he still has on. "Ghoul," he tries, one more time, as gently as he knows how even though it's not that gentle. He's never been good at this. Some of the scars scattered across Ghoul's body are from him. But Kobra had stitched up Ghoul's face and he's not going to give up now.

Ghoul finally turns and Kobra breathes a sigh of relief. Just a response. Proof of life even though he's still standing. And then Ghoul steps toward him and suddenly he's right there, shaking but otherwise just as eerily still as this entire place, like he's trapped in frozen time just like the rest of it, and he collides with Kobra's chest in a way that's both surprising and yet entirely expected.

"Oh." Kobra drops his helmet, dangling from one hand, and his arms hover uncertainly in the air for a moment before he carefully closes them around Ghoul. "Oh. Okay. Okay." He says quietly, startled, but not really. He'd felt the way Ghoul was holding onto him as they rode Mirage all the way out here.

Ghoul unfolds his arms from around himself and grabs onto the unzipped sides of Kobra's jacket. He doesn't cry, not out loud at least. He's just shaking, so much, and so, so small. Kobra's not good with words. He's even worse with them under pressure. Anything Jet or Party could say to make it better, that kind of stuff gets stuck on his tongue when Kobra tries to say it. So he doesn't. He just holds on.

"You plan on coming here?" Kobra asks eventually, even though he has a feeling the answer is no. Unless it's an engine or a bomb, Ghoul never really plans on much. Ghoul shakes his head, hair scrubbing against Kobra's shoulder and neck where his head's pressed. "You wanna... y'wanna go inside?" He asks then, against his better judgment. But then again, he's never been known for that, has he.

Ghoul tenses, but it momentarily stops the shaking. "Can we?"

Kobra huffs. "Nobody stoppin' us, and even if there were, we'd do it anyway, wouldn't we?"

Ghoul pries his fingers from their hold on Kobra's jacket and turns back toward the station. "Should we?"

"Dunno." Part of him thinks it might help. Part of him remembers exactly what happened the last time they were here. It's the Killjoy way to call death ghosting. It means some part of you lives on even when you're gone. There's a lot of ghosts in this pavement. "It's your-"

He can't think of what word goes there. Choice. Past. Grief. Place. So he stops talking. He shrugs, bends to pick up his helmet. "I can." He sucks a breath through his teeth. He's going to say it again. "I can... I can go with you. If you," he shrugs one shoulder again. "If you, uh, want to. I'm not- I'm not trying to force you," he adds, like it needs to be said. "It's your... yours."

Because that's all that really can be said. This place, the place that made Fun Ghoul what he is. The journey, however brief, that brought them here. Even, kinda, Kobra himself. It's all for Ghoul, here and now. Kobra drove, but he's just along for the ride. Weird how that happens.

Ghoul steps toward the station. Magnetism, again. And Kobra follows, because how could he not. He feels sick at the though of letting his friend go in that place alone.

The doors are gone. Shot out years ago. It looks to Kobra exactly as it did back then, but Ghoul probably remembers better. There are shelves toppled and glass and plastic broken all over the floor. Whatever hasn't been scavenged is broken and shattered. Ghoul walks toward the back of the store, the corner that's not so much a mess. Kobra stays back a bit, trying to give his friend space.

It's where they found Ghoul. Or, where Pois had found him. Ghoul was half in shock, terrified and scarred and fighting, and Party was the first one of their then three-strong group to notice the dark shape watching them hopelessly trawl the carnage for any survivors. It took Pois physically restraining the much smaller kid to keep Ghoul from going for all of their throats.

Kobra has a lot of bad memories of Ghoul. None are as bad as remembering the way he'd screamed when they first met.

"Y'okay?" Kobra asks after a while.

Ghoul has his moments. They all do. Sometimes, you wake up bad in the night and it's hard to pick yourself up. Sometimes you just gotta hit the bottom before you even can. But Ghoul's a fighter. "Yeah," he says, walking back and forth between fallen shelves once stocked with food and stupid trinkets. He crouches to pick up the shattered remnants of something once made of colorful glass and when he looks back over his shoulder at Kobra, he doesn't seem quite as small.

"'M sorry," Kobra mumbles, not knowing what to say now. Somehow, the shaking and the touch are so much easier than having to talk about it. He's never been the talker. That's Party. And he knows his brother regrets not getting there — here — sooner that day, but there's a sick, selfish part of Kobra that's too glad to have Ghoul to want anything different. But really, it's all he can say. If there's remnants of bones that haven't been carried away by carrion-eaters, he doesn't want to see it.

Ghoul slowly stands up from his spot on the floor, staring intently at the broken knick-knack in his palm. It might have been a glass teddy bear, once, something a parent might grab up for a child waiting at home. It's partially shattered, though. Half of its cartoonish smiling face is gone. The heart shape it once held in its paws is cracked down the middle. Kobra isn't great with metaphors, but this is pretty fucking obvious.

"I didn't save them," Ghoul says quietly, his voice grating through the charged, silent air. "I didn't save her."

Something clicks into place. They all know that the crew he lost was Ghoul's real actual biological family. He's a sandpup. He was born and raised in the Zones. He doesn't talk about it much. Kobra's shocked he even came back here, let alone with anyone else. Ghoul doesn't talk about his family, but they've all figured for a while that he had a sibling. You can see it in how he treats the Girl.

"Your sister," Kobra says. It doesn't sound like so much of a question when he says it out loud, but he knows Ghoul will understand it as one.

Ghoul nods. "Yeah." He steps over some toppled displays, sun-bleached ads that used to be bright colored, and slips the shiny piece of broken glass into one of Kobra's pockets since he doesn't have any of his own. Kobra can already see the sunburn forming on his friend's shoulders and the tops of his knees. "She was like, eight."

That's all the more he says about it, but Kobra slips his hand into the pocket and runs his fingers over the broken glass toy still warm from Ghoul's hands, and hears the years of grief and bitterness in the few words. Ghoul's more talky than he is, but he's cagey, too. Kobra can hear him, though. He gets it. Doesn't mean he knows what to say, though.

"Shit," he spits. He wants to say I'm sorry again, but that feels fuckin cheap. He wants to say stop beating yourself up about it, but that sounds even stupider. "Fuck." Sometimes that's all he can say.

"Yeah," Ghoul replies. "Fuckin shit."

"Exactly," Kobra agrees, fiercely relieved that Ghoul gets all the shit he's trying to say. "Hey, uh. Y'know I'm-" He stumbles over the words, cringes at himself for the inability to get past a stupid two-letter word. "I'm glad I know you." He manages, as selfish as it sounds standing here in the ghosted wreckage where Ghoul's family was killed. But if that hadn't happened, they wouldn't be here now. They wouldn't be friends. And Kobra needs Ghoul to know he's glad that any suicide run to save his family failed. The pain sucks, but he's grateful for the outcome. He hopes Ghoul can understand that.

Ghoul doesn't reply. His acid green eyes bore straight into Kobra's for a few seconds while Kobra's heart hammers in his chest. Then he kicks at some dust and looks at the floor and shrugs. "Let's go, man. I don't wanna stay here."

"M'kay."

Kobra's almost tempted to reach out as they walk back out into the glaring sun, grab onto Ghoul like he's a ghost, too, and the light might evaporate him. But he doesn't. He can't.

He thinks the feeling of Ghoul hanging onto him as he steers Mirage away, back up the ramp to the road they came down in the first place, will make him feel better. It doesn't. Ghoul holds on much looser than he had on the way here, and it makes Kobra nervous. He wonders if he should have made him wear a helmet, and steers more carefully around the turns.

And then Ghoul adjusts his seat and throws one arm up over Kobra's shoulder, loosely hooking around his neck. He leans up forward and shouts, "C'mon, Kobes, let's play with it!" Like he's itching for the risk that a couple hours ago had had him holding on for dear life. Kobra's used to thinking his best friend isn't all there. But he's also familiar with the times he is. Sometimes, he forgets they're not the same age because Ghoul is so larger than life.

He tips his head to the side in acknowledgement, and punches the throttle. He even pulls a couple of tight, quick loops. He can't slide on the pavement the way he would on sand, but he can catch a little air when there's a thermal bump in the highway. Ghoul clutches onto him, but it's not scared. Something's cleared up in the gas station. Maybe it was closure. Hell if Kobra knows.

When they pull Mirage off the highway and the diner finally comes back into view, just a small glint of signage, Kobra slows his pace and can feel Ghoul sigh more than he can hear it. His friend's arms stay firmly around him. "Hey, Kobes?" Ghoul says, just barely loud enough to be heard over the engine.

"Yeah?" Kobra says, a bit louder to be heard past his helmet.

Ghoul hesitates, then says in a rush, "I'm glad I know you too. Like, really glad." And then he squeezes Kobra a little tighter for just a second and Kobra can't even say anything in reply. It's been a long night at the wrong time of day. And they're almost home.

[polarisbibliotheque]

About the time a guy was being creepy to me on a professional setting and my gut feeling told me "GET OUT NOW"

Ok, so hi! This post has to do with a reblog recently here in my blog, on one of my fics regarding Dante and Vergil with an s/o suffering from being hit on without their consent. I write Devil May Cry fanfiction and that was my way of coping with a CREEP being, well, a creep.

Who would've known, fanfic is therapeutical

My answer got so big, I decided to make a separate post about it - and I'm talking like this because, if this gets out the DMC sphere and other people read it, they'll understand the fandom talk a little bit. This is not just for the fandom, but everyone out there.

Including men. All of us are prone to being targets of creeps - even if I'll be telling about my experience as a woman, take this advice to your heart NO MATTER your gender.

When this episode happened in my life, I was 27 y/o, I think...? I got pushed into such a stupid corner by this guy who kept messaging me with "work related" stuff... And my family wasn't validating my "this is weird" feeling.

So... What happened?

(TW: I mention the words "rape" and "sexual abuse" but none of that has happened. It was a red flag and I want to talk about avoiding it like the plague and how people might dismiss your gut feeling when something is wrong. I write with brutal honesty, curse words and don't censor anything, because I'm here to tell people how it is not curating content to go viral on clean ~family friendly~ social media. This is honest advice I'd give someone else, so it's just a heads up. I'm a little jaded with all the censoring of "forbidden words" when you have to discuss serious subjects like this nowadays hahahaha)

First context, I'm a Lawyer. Hi. I know it doesn't sound like it Second context, I'm from Latin America. Hi again!

Well, in my country, we have to vote every couple of years for the National Lawyer Association President and Vice-President (for my USA people, it's like the BAR association for Lawyers - meaning only lawyers who have passed the BAR and are, indeed, full-fledged to the association and with a lawyer permit can vote). I hate it, but it is what it is, I have to vote every time for one of those posh speaking clowns or else.

This much older guy stopped me at the entrance to the voting building to do some political propaganda of one of the candidates. Expected. They weren't the ones I was gonna vote 'cause their agenda didn't fit what I wanted for the Association - nevertheless, I smiled and was polite. Guy wouldn't shut up, but that's a lawyer thing. Kept being polite, dismissed him kindly and went inside to vote.

As I came back, guy is there and stops me. I had called my mom to give me a ride home - by that time, I had been broke and without a job for 2 years up until that point, trying to get back into the ~lawyer business~ and recover from a very bad burnout, so paying a ride back home was a big no. I had my phone on my hand and kept chatting because, you know, networking. You never know.

Now, mind you. I'm about to celebrate my 30th birthday this year, but people seriously think I'm underage wherever I go. I have to literally show them my credentials and ID so they can believe a single word I say. This guy, must've been around his 50s or something - and I look like a teen or, at best, 20 years old. I graduated when I was 22, so that's the most he could've imagined I was.

As we're talking, dude is flexing his career so hard I start to do the same. He says he has known the President and influential people in politics (back then, far-right government, so red flag already waving in the horizon), he has an office both here and in New York and Miami, he has worked with the FBI (we're in Latin America, the USA stuff is a flex for far-right people). I say I have worked as the Labor Lawyer in a huge worldwide known multinational company, coordinated with people in the USA and UK, had around 100 cases to manage monthly and keep the company in order when the directors were not around.

Guy is impressed and asks for my contact on LinkedIn. I'm down for it, I'm looking for a job and he could be one hell of a way to get back on business. Dude mentions he's in digital law and, heck, I wanted so bad to get into digital law! It was like he was put in my way by the angels to help me get back on my feet!

He asks for my resumé and my cellphone number, so he can have me in his office to have a cup of coffee. I am soaring by now. "That's it!!" I think "That's my ticket back to being a lawyer, to having my own money, to breaking the cycle of unemployment and having my career back!" - so I do it! I give him my number!

hello, workaholic aunt here speaking, my career was everything to me, I'd do everything for it

After I got back home, told my mom everything, and everyone was so happy. That's when he started sending me messages - asking for my address so he could send me some lawyer magazines and such... Even though he had asked when we were talking before and I changed the subject. I didn't give him of course, but instead sent him my resumé.

So, next day he asks me about that coffee and I said we can make it happen... Even if he got my name wrong. I have a pretty exotic name in whatever country I go, so it's a common mistake, known to happen, no one can pronounce my name right if I don't teach them how to, so yeah. I'm willing to gloss over that.

I'm assuming he read my resumé, saw how smart, capable and hardworking I am, and wants to talk business. Wants to offer me a job. I'm super ready. I'm taking my business clothes out of the closet, I'm cleaning my high heel black boots, I'm checking my references and vocabulary so I don't screw up. Guy sends a message saying he wants to take me out for lunch.

Red flag. My instincts flare up and I'm just staring at the screen. I start reviewing everything. I mean... Business lunches are ok, right? I had lunches with my manager and director plenty of times back in the day and it never got weird. So... Why was I feeling weird now...?

Guy says we can go out for lunch and then back at his office so he can show me around. I was like "hmmm... ok? shouldn't be weird. this is normal." but nevertheless I went to check with my mom and my sister.

Both said it was fine. I was feeling weird because it's a guy and me and I shouldn't be feeling uneasy - it's my social anxiety/workplace trauma talking. It's the opportunity of a lifetime. I shouldn't screw up.

I keep talking to him. I ask where we should meet up for this lunch and he tells me to give him my address, so he could pick me up and we can go to "a nice place to have lunch" (his words, not mine).

Red flags are dancing around my head. I keep thinking "have I lead him on something????" and going mad. What was I wearing? Only work clothes, that's all - suit pants, black high heel boots, dark silk shirt and only a nude lipstick so my lips wouldn't get chapped. My shirt didn't even show cleavage.

It's ridiculous how I feel this is a thing I should add 'cause heaven forbid the cleavage

What about what I've said? Did I accidentally flirt?? 'Cause that's been known to happen - I'm a clueless ace who can't for the life of me notice when people are flirting or not or notice when people think I'm flirting with them. And usually when they are not flirting or being attractive, that's when the magic happens for me! So... What gives?! Did I do something wrong, that sent the wrong message?

I mean, I was nice, yes. But you're supposed to be nice to people. I'm not gonna be rude just because most guys can't keep it in their pants.

I go over the messages. I didn't do anything strictly not business like. I'm very good at that. I have only worked responding to men as bosses in my life, had four male bosses before him, all different ages, marital status, star signs, backgrounds, lives. The best colleagues and co-workers I used to spend hours having coffee and laughing with were men. So I know how to keep professional and not mixing things up. It wasn't a slip up from my side.

Well, then there's always the chance I was going crazy and overreacting, soooo... I go over to my mom and sister. They think it's weird, yes, but they do think that's exactly what's going on: I'm overreacting and my social anxiety/workplace trauma is blocking me from pursuing this opportunity that can help my career - and make me have a salary again so I can help at home.

Ok. I though up and go back to talking to him. I tell him fine but I'll go to the place myself, so he can tell me where he's thinking about having lunch. Guy tells me nothing and keeps insisting I give him my address and he will give me a ride so we can "get to know each other better".

My GODS I've never felt so uncomfortable. Not even when I had to stay ONLY with my boss working until 1 am, only the two of us in the company building, every light out except the one in the room we were in, him being around 15 years older than me and very confident, with the two of us having one of the best work chemistry I had in my LIFE.

He could've done ANYTHING to me, but we only talked strictly work. We were tired, he waited for my mom to pick me up at 1 am outside so nothing bad would happen to me, both of us under an umbrella, he apologized to my mom for having me stay at work so late and then went back home to his wife and kid. I NEVER, at ANY moment felt unsafe around him. He was my mentor, he was my boss, he was a good colleague and even somewhat of a friend.

So why on EARTH was I feeling SO UNCOMFORTABLE with this guy I had only met ONCE face to face in my life?

I start to voice my concerns. My mom and my sister think I'm only saying that because I don't want to go back to work. That I want to throw my career away because I can't control my anxiety and my feelings. We fight a couple of times and a couple of days. My mom tells my aunt about it. My aunt goes full FBI and does a background check on this dude.

That's when she told my mom some things weren't adding up. His LinkedIn profile was a little too weird and he had no ties whatsoever with the elected President of the Lawyer Association - was he really someone in their team for propaganda? Nevertheless, he did have an office and did work with digital law, both here and in the USA. I shouldn't let this opportunity slip.

I got so mad. SO MAD. To the point my sister decided to ask her boyfriend for his opinion on all of it and he was like "hey... your sister is kinda right. guy wouldn't offer to take ME to a nice restaurant to have lunch and go to his office later for a coffee, would he...? I mean, this never happened to me" - and sis' boyfriend is on the business meetings and negotiations/selling part of the spectrum. He knows what he's talking about.

So now I finally have a man validating my concerns.

I take the decision to shut the whole thing down. I go "very well, I will NOT meet him, I will NOT maintain contact with him, he's treating me like a whore he picked up on the street". At this point, I am FUCKING FUMING. But still, my sister and mom gave him the benefit of the doubt and made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

So I decided to marinate him for a while.

I should note that all his messages were sent close or around midnight, not at working hours. And I only answered at working hours. Since I was taking a while to respond, my dude just goes like, and I kid you not, "ooooh she's not answering, she's ignoring me, I don't like that *sad emoji*" LIKE A FUCKING 13 YEAR OLD (no offense, 13 y/o peoples, but this dude is a FULL GROWN ASS MAN).

I am offended, I am flabbergasted and I wish I could suplex him to oblivion.

I show my mom the message. She just stares at me in awe. She FINALLY is like "yeah, ok, this isn't very professional". ALL THIS TIME, I never really told her what I was thinking and what was really worrying me. And then I break her the news that, what I'm really afraid of, is that this guy is going to rape me in his car. Or he's going to drive me somewhere I can't fight or scream and then he'll rape me. Whatever the scenario, it ended up with me being raped and I was scared. SO. FUCKING. SCARED.

My mom goes into Sphinx mode - that's when she doesn't answer and doesn't even look at me and just ~thinks~. It's a brutal reality she doesn't like and I don't like it either, I mean, it's my safety we're talking about here.

I shut down the guy completely. I tell him there's a family emergency and I couldn't continue to give him any attention nor I could go out for that lunch and I couldn't talk anymore. He SUDDENLY goes cold and "I am sorry if any of my messages seemed inconvenient. Do answer when you have the time so we can make an appointment." And that's it. No more messages. He's done in my book.

My mom tells my aunt. Aunt goes Sherlock Holmes mode this time and, lo and behold, they find an website of this guy's office. My mom is shocked at how 90's internet it looks for a guy who works with digital law. She then recognizes the address of the office but the doesn't remember of any office building in that street - so she Googles it.

His "office" is actually a residential building - meaning, it was his home address. She shows it to me and I want to cry - out of rage, shame, fear, sadness. I go like "yeah, this is the place he wanted me to go, to his home. What was he going to do to me there, huh?" - and I think the answer is pretty obvious.

Later, speaking to my sister, she's like "I dunno why you're so mad" and I'm like "WELL MISS I just got PICKED UP LIKE A WHORE outside of an OFFICIAL EVENT for the NATIONAL LAWYER ASSOCIATION while I was DRESSED UP PROFESSIONALLY and looking for PROFESSIONAL opportunities and I COULD HAVE BEEN RAPED. I think I have all the right in the FUCKING WORLD to be FUMING."

That's when we diverged some more. She just said like "hey that's how the world works: women are treated like whores - you weren't the first one to have this happen to you and you won't be the last. What are you gonna do about it? Get over it."

Oh. Boy. I looked at my sister's eyes. I saw her just staring at me weirdly. A storm was approaching. The skies darkened. Bury the Light started playing in the background. Vergil's doppelgänger was standing behind me like an angel of death. (All DMC references for my non-DMC peoples)

"Well. I wanna have power. So much fucking power in this world that no one ever even thinks about treating me like that again. So much power they will fear standing in front of me and saying those words - they will look into my eyes and shut up. So much power I will never be afraid to walk on my own again and I will never have to doubt my feelings when I'm feeling unsafe because some lowlife pitiful little shit decided I should be a whore to satisfy him. I want to have power so I will never be this helpless again."

Cue in my sister just sitting there with butter in the slice of bread in her hand, staring at me like "wtf man... do you need a hug...?" and me doing a dramatic exit back to my room to, well... Write the fanfic in question.

(For my DMC creatures: I never even thought of Vergil when I said all of this, I just noted that thought later in my diary and reading it a couple of days later I was like "omg I have become my worst enemy, fuck you Verge" because I kid you not, I used to hate this man with all the fibers of my being - hence where my longfic Nemesis came from. I realized I lived long enough to become my worst enemy - and maybe I hated him because Vergil made me look at the part of myself I didn't like and didn't want to admit existed *I'm laughing while writing this, I do find it weirdly amusing*)

DMC things aside, this WHOLE episode made me feel so frustrated. I never had anyone to validate me, only people doubting me or asking me if I lead him on, or what was I wearing, or if I smiled too much, if I was being too nice, if I said something inappropriate, and so on. I had to get it all off my chest and I thought maybe, juuuust maybe, Dante and Vergil would've been more supportive regarding that.

Because, you know, they know trauma and they are protective as fuck. They can have all the red flags and mental issues in this world, but I don't think they would EVER dismiss their partner - especially a woman - feeling unsafe and fearing being abused or raped. In order to trust, you have to give the person and opportunity and room to open up to you without judgements - and I do think they aren't very judgy people.

I mean, they are demons, for fuck's sake. They can't judge anything especially Vergil

Also, I don't blame my mom nor my sister (even if I got really mad at her). In the end, both of them wanted what was best for me, they thought it was an opportunity and wanted me to get my career back. Truth is, no woman knows how to act when this happens. And they didn't know how to act as well. They didn't want to think of the worst: just like I was doubting myself and my own feelings, they were doubting theirs as well. We ALL had to be validated by a man to admit something was wrong and we weren't hysterical.

Ok, ok, storytime over. But I felt like sharing this because people, you are ALWAYS valid in your concerns - and there's no clothing, no smile, no attitude, no NOTHING that JUSTIFIES abuse. If you're abused or feeling like someone wants to take advantage of you, especially sexually, YOUR FEELINGS AND FEARS ARE VALID. Don't shrug it off or water it down just because people are saying you're overreacting - if I had listened to everyone around me instead of my gut feeling that something was REALLY wrong, only the gods know what would've happened. But I'll tell ya, it probably wouldn't have been good for me.

At best, I'd be mad this guy would want to pick me up like a whore and I'd have to turn him down and take a ride home. At worst, he would've raped me - in his car, at the "restaurant", at his "office". We don't know, but I didn't want to "give luck to bad luck" as we say where I live.

I didn't have support, so I wrote a story to feel supported by the fictional characters I look up to - I wished SO bad I was dating someone, especially a man, who'd tell me he'd go through hell and back to keep me safe and wouldn't allow anyone to hurt me and validate my feelings. Someone who would make me feel safe and I wouldn't have to only rely on myself.

cue in V saying he too wanted to be loved and protected, I tell you, all this time I thought I hated Vergil when I had only found my nemesis in a mirror

So, don't ever doubt yourselves. Don't ever doubt your gut feelings. We might want validation and someone to keep us safe, but sometimes we don't have that and have to rely on our survival mode. It sucks, but there's a reason why that thing is called "survival": it keeps you alive. It keeps you going.

And no one, NO ONE has the right to say you're overreacting, you're being hysterical, you're reading too much into it, you're just trying to find the easy way out, you just don't want an opportunity because you're lazy, you're crazy and deranged, etc, etc.

If your gut is flapping red flags all around, then overreact. Be hysterical. Read too much into it, find the easy way out, be lazy, be crazy and deranged. Be the villain. Be the bad person. You're not perfect. You're not a princess. Be comfortable with people telling you you're bad - but never NEVER let go of your gut feeling when your safety is on the line.

That fucking thing WILL save your life. Being too nice, though, might not. Listen to yourself, be TRUE to yourself, and, again, don't be afraid to be bad.

Someday you might just find your half-demon man who will support you, protect you and treat you as an equal powerhouse, but until that day, keep on conquering your self-esteem and unwavering will.

I'm just saying all of this now because:

1 - I was too scared to talk about this for a looong time afraid the guy in question would find this, know it's me and my safety would be on the line again

2 - Just now I'm getting comfortable with the concept of being "seen as the villain" and being "seen as bad". My whole life I have been dancing around this because people always said I had a "difficult" personality. I watched Cruella recently and it hit home so hard. We do have things to learn from villainous characters and maybe this is just who I am. People are going to see me as bad so, who cares. Even if I'm not, it would do me good getting used to that idea - I can be more assertive to my boundaries and not allow any of this to happen again. So, there you go. It's an exercise everyone should do. Are you comfortable defending your ideas, your boundaries and your integrity even if people are mad you're not being a pushover/perfectly polite?

It's something I think all of us should think about ;)

Also

thanks for coming to my TED Talk :')

[britneyshakespeare]

i love that in order for big time rush to come back they bought the rights to their name and catalog and have gone completely independent. bc that means whenever i listen to their music i can turn to my sister and say “i love indie music”

[damnable-bell]

Minho's friend from middle school interviewed him for his YouTube channel this week and shared stories of how Minho has helped him pursue his dream (plus the text conversation that led to the interview).

I hate to be corny, but I really feel that having a friend like Minho must be such a blessing on your life.

Side note: The famous director Minho studied under, according to his friend, is none other than Hong Sangsoo. Hong Sangsoo! I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind. Minho, you just get cooler by the day.

cr: jsskmy

[oculusxcaro]

-LOUNGES- OK LOOK I genuinely love how you've taken into account this mutation affecting her memory and reactions. That doesn't feel like something I've seen before and it's a really nice twist. And the bit you mentioned that she likes serving people good food in part because she can't really taste it anymore makes me smile. She's a good person who didn't deserve what's happening to her but damn I'm here for her story and development!

Please tell me your favorite things about my portrayal/muse?

Holly, you are too pure for this world!!! From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Truly, I appreciate your kind words so much as honestly, I wasn't sure what people were thinking when it came to Khare's memory issues? Her mutation sounds cool in theory what with being hard to kill and regenerating flesh to the point that losing limbs isn't much of an issue but there are some serious drawbacks to her condition so I'm actually glad you noticed this? Also the kind things you said before back when I was writing those journal entries, I wanted to embrace the negative sides when it comes to getting mutagenic powers and not many examples show what happens when it... well, goes wrong. As for being a good person, Khare would find it -very- debatable whether or not. She feels so conflicted about everything that happened and that she's not 'good' at all, leaving all those poor people behind without trying to find some way of helping them but she didn't know what to do, where to go or if anybody would even believe her. She can't believe it herself somedays, until she looks into a mirror and sees all those eyes clustered in her shoulder or feels the squirm in her hip as the eyes there jiggle for water but what's done is done. Shit happens to people every day and she's no exception, she just has to make the best of things she can. She does love that part about her job tho, making good food for people to enjoy since her sense of taste has been obliterated by her condition so I'm glad that part makes you smile!!! <3

[thatscarletflycatcher]

It's funny because sometimes I'll get very angry and frustrated about something IRL, and my brain will just take all that anger and frustration and dump it into some old or new fandom thing I hate.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Djungelskog - Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year. 

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you 

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it 

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics? 

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood 

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln 

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home 

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by yn_ln, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed 

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

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yn_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea 

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :( 

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break 

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited 

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out 

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism 

→ yn_ln yes 

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short 

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

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Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it. 

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?” 

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?” 

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward. 

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.” 

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?” 

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher. 

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco. 

“There?” 

��Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause. 

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.” 

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear. 

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.” 

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows. 

“What’s up, sweetheart?” 

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared. 

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.” 

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter. 

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?” 

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.” 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work 

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely 

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot? 

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view 

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room? 

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best 

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine! 

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

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yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn? 

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that 

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful 

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism 

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher 

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now 

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry 

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

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Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

[lokis-army-77]

A Text Away

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7k

You've been horny all day and Eddie is at band practice... but you know a way to get him home.

Warning: 18 +. face sitting/riding, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex.

And thank you to @strangerxperv for the absolutly fabulous idea 💗

Masterlist

After a long day at work, there were two things you wanted. One, a nice hot shower, and two, your boyfriend to fuck you into next week. 

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that watching him get dressed to go work at the local record store made you horny. He couldn’t help the fact that every time you saw the little trail of hair dipping past the waist of his pants, your legs clenched, and your body grew warmer.

You dealt with your racing thoughts all through your own shift at the bookshop, imagining your return home and how good he would feel against you. 

Only, he wasn’t home when you unlocked your apartment door. 

Sighing in disappointment you trudge to the bathroom to start warming the water. As you wait, you text Eddie.

Where are you? I need you..  like really bad.

Your phone dings a few minutes later while you are in the middle of scrubbing shampoo in your hair.

Wiping your hand off on the towel, you reach for your phone, lying on the small shelf above the towel rack. 

Eddie had responded.

In a bit baby. I'm at practice.

You pout as you read the text only to smile mischievously. You message him as fast as you can with one dry hand.

But Eddie.. if you come home I'll sit on your face. And I mean really sit on your face.

There is no ding of a notification once you set your phone back down and continue your shower routine. 

Twenty minutes later, you've given up on Eddie answering you, have put on your comfiest pajamas, and are now snuggled up in bed. 

You're startled when the front door slams open and you hear thick boots pacing in your direction. 

"Take your fucking pants off right now," Eddie commands as he bursts into your shared bedroom. 

You're sat up, back against the headboard, staring at him, bewildered as he practically flops backward onto the bed.

When he hadn’t texted you back you assumed he just wasn't interested at the moment, you never could have imagined this. 

You start to giggle when he starts making grabby hands at you. "Pussy on my mouth, now." 

When the words leave his mouth, you practically choke on a laugh. 

"Babe, quit laughing and get up here. Set on my fucking face like you promised." He grumps. 

You have no choice but to obey as you say, "Okay okay, patient much?"

It's only fair that you tease him a little. So you slowly emerge from under the covers, fingers delicately pulling at the waist of your pajama pants. 

Eddie watches with a hunger in his dark brown eyes. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips when you begin to tug your pants down. Slowly but surely you are exposed to him and he almost dies when he realizes you weren't wearing panties. 

Before you can even get to your knees, Eddie is gripping your ankle and pulling your body down the bed to him with a strength acquired from years of hauling heavy amps and other musical equipment from place to place. 

"Eddie!" You squeal, more laughter leaving you when your head falls, bouncing on the mattress. 

"You're going too slow, baby." He cries, letting his hold up but hands never leaving you.  

You shake your head, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. Finally, you get to your knees and straddle him. He is impatiently pulling you up his body, only stopping when you are hovering over his face. 

Your eyes meet his as you stare down between your legs. He'd got a big, goofy grin plastered on his face. 

"Fuck." He sighs. "I've died and gone to heaven." His large hands wrap around your legs and right before he pulls you flush to his mouth he says, "Don't hold back."

When his hot mouth makes contact with your waiting pussy, you gasp. The need you had been feeling all day long now has an outlet. 

Eddie's tongue swipes through your folds, lapping up the arousal that had already started to seep from your cunt. His nose rubs against your clit, pulling a strangled moan from you. 

A hand shoots down to tangle in his hair when his tongue plays at the rim of your cunt, flicking ever so slightly in and out of you.

He's like a man starved as he devours all that is given to him. You feel his fingers moving up to your hips. There's a slight pressure as he pushes you and in a flush of worry, you pull off of him.

The desperate whine that falls past his already swollen lips makes your heart flutter.

"Why'd you move away?"

"You were pushing me.. are you okay? I thought you couldn't breathe." I exasperate.

"No, I was trying to get you to ride me. Hump my face sweetheart." He doesn't say another word, he just grips onto you once more and pulls you down. 

You understand what he wants now, so you lean back, hands resting on the tops of his things behind you, and you canter your hips. Slow and steady you used him for your own pleasure. 

"Eddie-" you sigh breathlessly, head falling back between your shoulders. 

He hums in response. The vibrations travel up through your core and into your body. Shivers accompany them as you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Eddie please-" Your knees and arms are burning as you continue to grind yourself against him. "I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum."

Your lungs are struggling to fill with air as you get closer and closer to release. Eddie's hands are wrapped over your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. 

When he finds it, you double over. The knot pulls tighter and you feel a sheen of sweat cover your body. 

Quickly, your first orgasm comes to light. There's a blazing fire erupting within you and it takes all you have not to fall flat on your face. Long, drawn-out moans flow from you and Eddie does not stop. His tongue pushed into you, tasting your release. 

His fingers now grip the fat of your ass harshly. He keeps you on top of him and he moves his face from side to side as best he can with you practically smothering him with your pussy. 

This time he does actually push you up off him. He takes a deep breath and groans. "Fuck baby, taste so good." He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh and then he bites you. His teeth sink into the soft skin in the crease where your inner thigh meets with your body. 

In a series of fluid movements, Eddie has you on your back in an instant. He unzips his pants and pulls himself out of them, tugging on his hardness before getting into position. Your legs are being pushed back by his hands holding you at the bend of the knee. 

"You're so pretty like this… pussy all wet and needy for me." His voice is muffled by the loud beating of your heart in your ears. "Mmm gonna fuck you full."

You whimper as you feel his hard length run through your glistening folds, his hips jutting against the backs of your thighs. 

"Yeah, you like that? Want me to fill you with my cum?" 

You nod, crying out when his cock finally pressed through the tight threshold of your cunt. "Need it, please, I need it."

"Just my little cum baby aren't you?" He asks, fully sheathing himself in you.

Your back arches off the bed and you groan. Fingernails scratching at Eddie’s forearms. 

He pulls back and slams into you. "Aren't you?"

"Yes!" You cry out. His cock reaches into the very depths of you, the tip hitting in just the right place to make you scream. "Yes! I am, I am, Eddie!"

"Mmm, good. Gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. Gonna breed this pretty fuckin' pussy." His fingers adjust themselves as his grip slips and then he's pounding into you at such a brutal pace. Back and forth, in and out, he is fucking you raw.

Your walls clamp around him, the drag of his cock stimulates you more and you clench harder. 

Skin on skin, the noises that they make are obscene. The squelch of him entering you has your face burning, not in embarrassment but desire. His gruff growls and fucked out moans accompany those other sounds and all they do is make you even more horny. 

Eddie fucks into you with reckless abandon, mind full of images of your belling swollen with his child. How much he would love for you to sit on his face like that, all pretty and pregnant. 

Your toes curl when Eddie flips your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. A strong, calloused hand reaching out for the mound of flesh. He kneads it and pulls on your nipple before swiping a gentle thumb over the hardened bud.

The way he fucks you is savage. Hips snapping at a speed you couldn't imagine, his fingers squeeze your skin so hard you are sure you will have brushes in the shape of his hands all over you. 

The knot pulls tighter once more and your body begins to lock up in anticipation. Your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. Your hands reach for his, interlocking your fingers, hoping he will keep you down on Earth. 

As your orgasm hits once more, you wail. A long, monotone cry bursts from your lungs, whole unattractive but who cares when you feel so so so good? 

"That's it. That's fucking it." Eddie gasps. Your cunt is practical milking him. He's trying to hold off but it's all just too much. A shiver runs up his spine and his balls pull taut. He's lost his rhythm, hips now bucking unevenly and with desperation. 

All it takes is another whimper from you and he's a gunner. With one last hard thrust, he keeps himself buried to the hilt. Your walls are spasming around him, your release gushing out along with his own sticky, milky white cum. 

"Yes, fuck yes. That's it, baby, take all my fucking cum." 

He falls forward, letting go of your knees.  His forehead rests in the crook of your neck and his lips press softly into your skin. He kisses you, a needed juxtaposition from mere seconds ago. 

His breath is warm on your salt-slicked skin as he speaks again. "Such a good little cum baby, taking all that. S'what you wanted, hum?"

You close your eyes, tired. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just what I wanted."

[littlebatgames]

The voices of Vampire Therapist

Hi Tumblr! I'm Cyrus Nemati, creative director at Little Bat Games, where we're making Vampire Therapist. You might know me as a voice actor. I voiced Theseus, Dionysus, and Ares in Hades, so as you might imagine, voices are my thing.

When I started designing Vampire Therapist, I wanted to create characters not only had deep narrative depth, but that would be challenging and rewarding to voice. I voice protagonist Sam Walls and his mentor, Andromachos. Writing a game about therapy is really tricky, so being able to jump in revoice lines was a huge benefit for the game!

I also voice two of the therapy clients in the game, Dr. Drayne and Edmund Kean. Dr. Drayne is the kind of challenge any actor delights in, having three very distinct characterizations that have to seem natural, whereas Edmund Kean is the Shakespearean actor of his time.

As much as I'd like to save money, I couldn't voice all characters in the game, but I'm very picky about voices and needed a cast of the absolute best I could find. So I got them.

If you've played Hades 2, you've heard Sarah Grayson or Selene. Or maybe you know her from Gone Home or Tacoma? But I needed her ability to alternate between the very light and the very dark for murderous vampire content creator Meddy.

To play Isabella d'Este, a real historical figure and esteemed patron of the arts during the Renaissance, I needed someone with a sense of the theatrical and some excellent comic timing. For that, I turned to a very old friend, Kylie Clark, who comes much more from the theatre tradition that video games... which she doesn't play at all. Until Vampire Therapist!

For our fabulous goth bartender, Crimson, I needed the epitome of cool, sexy, and tantalizingly mysterious. You might know Francesca Meaux as Eurydice from Hades, but she went to some unexpected places to play Crimson!

I did say I wanted the best of the best, right? Vampire Therapist is a super low-budget indie, but if I'm going to fill a club with quirky, sexy goths, I need range, and for that, I got Matthew Mercer. Yeah, that Matthew Mercer. The Critical Role one. The one from Baldur's Gate 3. The one from all your favorite video games. How could I do less? He's playing Reinhard the sexy goth and Ciaran the goth priest in Vampire Therapist.

You can see the work we've put into every aspect of Vampire Therapist. I think you're going to find that it's unlike any game you've ever played.

It'll be out on July 18th, and you can wishlist it on Steam now!

And on GOG!

[chaos0pikachu]

word of honor is a comfort show specifically for scenes like when Cheng Ling the accidently adopted child of two mass murderers gets kidnapped by Soft Butch Assassin and her girlfriend High Femme Assassin for a piece of the glazed donut when Zhou Zi Shu shows up like "UNHAND MY CHILD!!" And CL is all "omg I'm your son 🥺🥺" and ZZS is like "I suddenly can't read I don't know mariah carey.gif" meanwhile our lesbian assassins are like "god people have no respect for torture time anymore" and they all have a swirly twirly fight b/c everyone is dressed to the NINES b/c if you're gonna be a murderer in a wuxia show you are also gonna look PEAK FABULOUS thank you very fucking much and then ZZS is like "oh no my nipple nails of cancer are acting up" and whenever his nipples are aching who shows up but Wen Ke Xing busting through the door like the koolaid man with the energy of a queen lip syncing for her life on Rupaul all "HOW DARE YOU HARM MY HUSBAND AND OUR CHILD" and ZZS is like "he's not our child!!" and another swirly twirly fight happens and the lesbians dip so our marital arts family chases them outside only to be confronted by ZOMBIES or crackheads whichever and WKX is like "husband, take our child and run" and ZZS is obviously not gonna do that cause like both a feral cat & a millennial he's always Down to Fight and also lacks general self-preservation so WKX is like "dying alongside you is also a beautiful way to die" meanwhile CL in the back wondering if they could all just not die like he didn't stick a piece of the glazed donut in his stomach and hang out with his boring, beige, busted uncles for 2 weeks just get eaten train to busan style the fuck

and then Scorpion King (not the rock) floats down from the sky in slow mo like a Jrock act floating down onto the stage playing his little guitar like "HELLOOOOOOOO ANCIENT CHINA!! HOW WE FEELING TONIGHT?" and ZZS is like "not a fucking band kid" so he throws smoke bombs naruto style and they all dip

and in the end of all~~~ of this CL is like "so I'm your son right?" and ZZS is like, "fuck it, fine" and signs the adoption papers while wwx is like planning an autumn wedding

[sassysnowperson]

How Not to Read Terry Pratchett's Discworld Novels

With the very exciting fantasy books poll bracket going on Discworld and how to read it is in the zeitgeist again. I figured I would take a crack at adding to this important topic with a guide drawn from my own chaotic mess of a reading journey:

Learn that Terry Pratchett is a fantasy author that several people whose reading taste you admire enjoy. He apparently blends comedy, good plotting, and a world that is both grounded and satirical and you're a big fan of all those things.

Fabulous! Decide to read some of his work.

Go to your local library. Love a good library. You're new to the area, so you're also exploring the library for the first time, too.

You have found Terry Pratchett! Points to you! Pull a book off the shelf at random. It's called The Dark Side of the Sun.

Start reading. Realize that this feels more like sci-fi than fantasy. Sigh in smug superiority about people who get the two confused.

Realize about halfway through that this is not, in fact, a Discworld book.

Nobody warned you the guy wrote other things!

It's still good, tho. Maybe a little rough but this was an older book and the author clearly has potential. Let's try again.

Review his works. The vast majority are Discworld. You are highly unlikely to grab another non-Discworld book. Go back to the Terry Pratchett section of the library.

Oh hey he wrote a book with Neil Gaiman! You've hears of that guy!

Grab Good Omens off the shelf.

Take it home, realize, much sooner, that this is also not a Discworld book. Still enjoy yourself thoroughly. You should read more of this Gaiman dude, too.

But okay. For real this time. Go back to the library and don't leave without *CONFIRMING* you have a Discworld book this time.

Grab a book. Look at the cover. Read the back Discworld! Ha HA! You've done it!

It's called Thud.

You are utterly gripped by a story of a man wrestling with himself, his growing child, the political tensions of a city and extremism that echoes reality beautifully while still being entirely true to itself. It's a story of responsibility and love and building communities and Fantasy Chess. You are driven nearly to tears by the sentence *WHERE IS MY COW?*

You emerge from the book fundamentally changed as a person, and finally understanding what all the fuss is about. You are now a Terry Pratchett reader for life.

You realize Thud was in the middle of a series. That was a part of another series. That explains why there was a feeling that you were supposed to know some of these people already.

You finally find one of those flowcharts and figure out a more sensible reading order.

I always sort of laugh when people ask where to start reading Discworld, because Thud would be first on absolutely nobody's sensible Terry Pratchett reading order. I'm still tempted to recommend it though!

(My actual advice: Going Postal if you love con men being stuck doing the right thing, Wee Free Men if you like YA and smart angry girls owning their own power, Guards! Guards! *and* Men at Arms if you like crime shows with heart and are okay giving earlier work a try (the quality gets better and better, but I think it needs at least two books to get you into it), and Monstrous Regiment if you like gender and queer feelings, anti-war books told in the middle of a war, and/or would prefer a stand alone novel...and, you know, Thud if you want a great read and don't mind some chaos.)

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (7) - Tension

Chapter summary: Astarion needs to feed and things get out of hand... again.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Dry humping. Masturbation, Precum, Innuendo. Astarion briefly talking you through it. Sexual tension. Sexual frustration.

Word count: 5.4k

Series Masterlist

Astarion needed to feed.

That undeniable fact had come to light in various forms.

You were quite sure that, to the others, it was a blessing in disguise, as Astarion's snarky remarks were now sparse.

But you knew better.

You knew him better.

He hadn't even made a single comment when Gale brought home some horrendous tapestry that he promptly hung on the wall.

That was when you knew he was due a proper feeding.

You glanced at him over your shoulder as you diced some fruit to start the day off.

Astarion was seemingly deep in thought as he masterfully threaded a needle along the edge of the collar of his shirt.

Your heart fluttered briefly as you recalled his enjoyment in embroidery. He had once revealed it helped him hone his dexterity while looking fabulous at it.

A faint smile tugged at your lips, and you returned your attention to the cutting board.

The morning had started off slow and quiet and, for the first time in a long time, you had gotten a proper night's rest.

You couldn't tell if your conversation with Astarion was the sole reason for that, considering you did try the lavender extract Shadowheart had given you. Regardless, there was this pleasant and warm feeling brewing within you.

The joys of communication laced with a touch of intimacy truly left you feeling at peace.

But then…

Your face tensed up as your thought drifted back to Ava.

All pleasant feelings morphed into dread at the conjured image of Astarion offering her his blood.

Whatever interest she had in it had to be rooted in something nefarious. You refused to believe otherwise. Besides, how could she even accept such an exchange when dealing with his vulnerability?

That wasn't right. 

You were so caught up in the haunting visual projection of her bleeding him dry, that you didn't realise someone was pressing against you from behind.

“I, for one, am glad we are not back in the wilderness, darling.”

Astarion.

You jolted in surprise as his chin came to rest on your shoulder, his hand drifting down your arm to grip the knife you were holding.

“Anyone with ill-intentions would have you gutted by now.” His voice was low with the faintest hint of a tease.

He was absolutely correct.

Your distraction could have landed you in a bit of a predicament not long ago.

But your gaze was now set on how his hand examined the blade.

“This knife needs polishing,” he said, shifting his lips closer to your neck. “And the edge needs sharpening.”

Oh, he really needed to feed. 

And he wasn't even being subtle about it at this point as his lips ghosted your skin.

“I'll get to it later.”

You were trying your hardest to keep your composure, feeling the palms of your hands sweat when he pressed further against you.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest and your back. “Honestly, I'm surprised you can cut through anything but butter with this.”

He had to know.

He had to know how your pulse had quickened so easily because of him.

“Astarion.”

“Hmm?”

But your mind had blanked for a second, your body reacting instinctively to his.

His hand was closed around yours, thumb rubbing circles on your heated skin as he pressed his cold lips to the throbbing artery that ran along your neck.

Gods…

“You need to feed.”

He paused briefly. “It's quite adorable how you can tell whenever I'm craving your blood.”

You would have dropped the knife had he not been making sure you kept a firm grip on the handle.

“You aren't being particularly subtle.”

He let out a dramatic gasp. “I'm merely offering  help with this sad blunt knife, my darling.”

Well, his idea of ‘help’ now involved him pressing his thumb against yours to have it tracing circles along the handle. 

“I reckon your grip isn't adequate either,” he whispered in your ear this time. “You must grip it tighter .”

Oh.

Oh…

He was too good at courtship.

The innuendo wasn't lost on you, and you nearly rolled your eyes at his bluntness.

“I do know how to grip a knife, Astarion.”

He chuckled once again. “Yes, I remember your fierce grip whe–”

But before he could finish his sentence, a scoff was heard next to you and you immediately jolted back in panic, slamming into Astarion's lower half.

“Gods! ” he wailed in pain.

Chaos ensued as fruit went flying off the table and rolling along the floor, the knife landing at your feet and the jarring sound of metal clattering around.

“Is everything alright?” Gale's alarmed voice was heard.

Lae'zel merely stood with arms crossed and looking as unfazed as ever.

“Could you two keep your mating rituals out of the kitchen?”

Your eyes widened at her accusation, crouching to clean up the mess. “Oh! No – no! We were not – Astarion was just… just talking about polishing this knife.” You immediately held the blade in your hand for Lae'zel to see.

She raised a brow instead. “Yes. I am quite sure Astarion wouldn't mind you polishing his knife.”

Your jaw dropped.

Astarion was still hunched over the table, clutching his crotch and spilling profanities.

Shit.

You must have hit him really hard.

Lae'zel threw a final scoff heavy with disapproval at both of you before pacing away.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it…” You started off, wincing as Astarion massaged the soreness away.

He waved a hand dismissively. “You're a menace even when you don't mean to.”

As he straightened up with a low growl, you noticed the colossal height difference.

Kneeling on the floor, you gathered the scattered fruit and utensils as you looked up at Astarion.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips when he met your gaze. “Not even going to kiss it better, darling?”

You were now at eye-level with his crotch and, for a moment, you thought he had rendered you speechless.

But two could play this game.

You placed a hand dramatically over your mouth. “Right here? In front of everyone? Astarion! ”

You hadn't bothered keeping your voice down and as you rose back to your feet again, you saw a couple of heads turn your way.

Gale looked utterly confused while Lae'zel rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the sword in her hands.

Astarion's smile only deepened. “Oh, you vicious little tease – that was good.”

You patted your clothes straight with a proud smirk before leaning in closer to his face.

“I learned from the best.”

And you quickly pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek.

He stirred briefly under your touch and you offered him a kind smile as you walked away, casually taking a bite off a pear.

“You should do that more often if it means we are greeted with his silence.” Lae'zel complimented as you sat by her side.

Astarion looked as though you had just slammed a frying pan on his head, but his eyes following your every move.

It wasn't every day that once could take pride in leaving Astarion speechless.

He could hand out the most intricate of innuendos laced with sexual tension, but show him small acts of affection, and he will be disarmed in an instant. 

You still remembered that first hug you ever gave him in Moonrise Towers and how he was stunned at first.

“Are you malfunctioning, Astarion?” Shadowheart suddenly quipped as she trailed down the flight of stairs.

You giggled softly at how adorable he looked, even when he finally came to his senses and shook his head, frowning slightly.

“They were engaging in some bizarre pre-mating ritual,” Lae'zel spoke up, inspecting her sword up close. “Seems like she won. Not that I'm surprised.”

Shadowheart winced, disgust splattered all over her face. 

Gale chose the wrong time to sip his camomile tea and nearly choked, and you rushed to his side to pat him on the back.

“You do have a way with words, no doubt,” he drawled out, clearing his throat.

Even as used to her bluntness as you were, you still felt heat rush to your cheeks. “We were not doing such a thing.”

She merely shrugged.

Having snapped out of his previous stunned state, Astarion cleared his throat. “You sound jealous, Lae'zel. Should we invite you over?”

You gave him a murderous look, which only served to fuel his boldness.

“Jealous of what, Astarion? Getting kicked in the balls?”

He scoffed.

A soft knock on the door was heard and Shadowheart swiftly moved to open it.

Your stomach flipped momentarily, hoping it wasn't an undesired visit yet again.

But your worries were laid to rest as Wyll strolled in, accompanied by a Fist.

You bolted from the sofa, pulling him into a hug, which he promptly returned.

“I would normally welcome your visit, but the look on your face tells me you don't come bearing good words.” Gale said, tension heavy in his voice.

Wyll parted from you and his silence was truly revealing.

You shuddered and felt panic rising inside you. “What is it? What happened?”

He forced a warm smile. “Shall we take a seat?”

“Or…” Astarion said with a deep scowl. “... you could simply spit out whatever ill-news you're about to drop on us without the unnecessary foreplay.”

Wyll sighed as you motioned for him to take a seat, as everyone else followed suit. The Fist stopped by his side, an unreadable face turned to Astarion.

“Can I get you something?” you asked.

He shook his head vehemently. “I am not staying long. Just offering an update on the murder case.”

You heaved a deep breath, eyeing him expectantly.

“Well? Get on with it,” Astarion goaded impatiently with a click of his tongue.

Shadowheart seemed quite tense all of a sudden and Lae'zel kept a hand on her sword handle.

“It seems that Astarion is no longer a suspect.”

You watched as he rose from his seat with a smile. “Finally. Glad this is all settled!”

“Not so fast,” Wyll said, his face heavy. “Have a seat.”

He sank back into the chair with a deep scowl and crossed arms as a child who had just been told to finish their vegetables. 

“After talking to some of the passers-by from that night, the general consensus is that you were the only one they spotted,” Wyll said, turning his head to you. “No one recalls a second person being there, let alone that person being Astarion.”

Your heart dropped before speeding up again.

“What… does that mean?” you said in a whisper.

There was a brief silence and you could feel the tension in the room becoming increasingly more palpable.

“For all intents and purposes, you are regarded as the only offender.”

A cold layer of sweat took over your body all at once.

“Nonsense,” Astarion scoffed in disbelief. “I was there with her. I got captured.”

This time, the Fist was the one to speak, “You offered to get captured, spawn .”

“I wasn't talking to you, Fist .”

You felt Gale's arm around your shoulder protectively. “Wyll, this is ludicrous. No one here murdered anyone.”

He nodded. “I agree. I do believe this to be a grave misunderstanding. However, upon closer inspection of the body, there were some interesting findings.”

You were too stunned to utter a single word, thankful that your companions were doing the talking instead.

Lae'zel's grip on the sword intensified, her stare glued to the plate-armoured Fist. “Such as?”

“Necrotic magic reminiscent of that found in the Szarr palace.”

You watched as Astarion stilled all of a sudden, lips pressed together.

“Which we cannot further compare since someone burned down the entire place,” the Fist said, eyes shifting to Astarion.

The grand manor had gone up in flames not long ago, and you did know Astarion had had a hand in it, but with no proof of his crime, there was no effective way to pin him to it.

But it had been enough to strain his relationship with The Flaming Fist with only Wyll being able to keep them at bay.

“Accusing me of arson now? My, my, add it to my tab, dear,” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

But Wyll's patience was wearing thin. “None of this makes any sense. If the two of you are not to be blamed for this – which I definitely stand by – then who could benefit from tangling you into this mess?”

Ava.

Your mind immediately jumped to her.

You had no idea what purpose that could serve, but your instinct seldom failed you.

Even so, you remained silent.

“We are to continue the investigations, naturally,” Wyll went on with a nod. “Necromancy is grounds for imprisonment. Whoever did this, needs to be found and brought to justice.”

Astarion tumbled his fingers on the table. “Well, if you are so sure we are innocent, then let us go.”

“Justice should be blind. I know it is not always the case, but as a former magistrate, I am sure you can agree on the principle.”

Astarion waved dismissively. “It's a sound principle on paper, but its application is tainted and unjust. No one expects the lordlings of Baldur's Gate to answer for any crime.”

Wyll's face twisted into a faint frown. “As true as that might be, I am not keen on upholding such practice. Friend or foe, everyone must face the consequences of their actions.”

A mysterious smile settled on Astarion's lips, but he didn't retort.

Shadowheart cleared her throat. “I could lend my expertise in the matter, Wyll. I could examine the body myself. I have some contacts in the city that could aid me, but I shall need a sample.”

He seemed to hesitate at first, but then slowly nodded. “Very well.”

“So what now?” you finally found your voice again, eager for any glimmer of hope.

Wyll gave you a kind smile. “My friend, do not fret. I am keeping you both here as safekeeping for now. The Council of Four remains sceptical, but if someone did try to frame you, then it is best to stay out of sight.”

You gave him a reluctant nod, realising that time was the only thing on your side for now.

“We've increased the security outside,” the Fist said flatly. “We've added detection spells and mage slayers on rotation.”

You looked up, startled. “ Mage slayers? ”

Gale shared your indignation, the arm around you tensing up. “That is quite extreme.”

“Is it?” Wyll asked. “You two are quite powerful at magic, my friends – but there is always a bigger fish.”

“No wonder my magic has been wavering this morning,” Gale said, rubbing at his chest before pacing towards the window and taking a peek behind the black curtains. “ Two? Wyll, this is–”

“Necessary. For now.”

You swallowed hard, burying your face in your hands in sheer frustration. 

“On a lighter note” Wyll began once again. “I was informed that you are to go to Waterdeep to meet with your contact.”

Gale returned to his seat, looking livid. “Yes. We are expecting some proper information on the Wish spell.”

“Good news, then, Astarion,” he said with a soft smile.

He threw a poisonous glare at him instead. “Seeing is believing, or so they say. I will not be celebrating until I am strolling down the sunlight streets of this city without having my ashes being swept off the pavement and into an ashtray..”

Wyll gave him a light-hearted laugh before rising to his feet, adjusting his cloak. “Fair enough. Though my offer still stands, should things go awry.”

That immediately piqued your interest. “What offer?”

Astarion shrugged. “Oh, dear Wyll made me an offer after becoming duke.”

“Which you refused.”

He nodded with a frown. “I am not a dog to order around.”

Your gaze kept switching between the two of them, feeling lost.

“That was never the implication of my offer, friend. You know the nightlife of Baldur's Gate better than anyone. Your intel would be of great value,” Wyll said in exasperation. 

“And you are an adequate rogue,” the Fist said.

Astarion immediately scoffed. “ Adequate? I could have you pinned to that wall at the tip of my dagger faster than you can say ‘Baldur's Gate’,” he said with a laugh, but his words held no humour.

“I'd like to see you try, spawn."

Astarion drew his dagger from its sheath, twirling it playfully between his fingers.

Wyll quickly intervened. “It's not one or the other, Astarion. You could have both. We would keep searching for a way to cure your vampirism, while you'd take to the streets to help us fight wrongdoers.”

Well.

It did sound like a solid proposal.

“I would still need to feed.”

“We would bring you fresh carcasses at your demand.” 

Astarion was now inspecting his nails. “What about thinking creatures?”

Wyll tensed up immediately. “No.”

Astarion smiled playfully. “Then I'm better off with my current arrangement. The blood of carrion can only do so much for my body and mind.”

He exchanged a look with you.

“I don't mind helping you out,” you said firmly.

Wyll sighed heavily. “Well, I do not like that arrangement one bit, but it's your blood, so it's your choice.”

As he paced towards the door after bidding his goodbyes, you hurried after him.

“I have a favour to ask.”

He arched an inquisitive brow. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, glancing around to make sure no one could listen. 

“I need to go to The Blushing Mermaid.”

Wyll's eyes widened. “The Blushing Mermaid? Why?”

“I need to talk to someone there,” you said in a whisper. “And maybe you should come, too.”

He chuckled. “My days sneaking into that tavern are long gone, my friend. It would not be suitable for the Duke of Ravengard to visit such a place.”

You shook your head, grasping his hand in a plea. “ Please . There's this woman. Astarion's… acquaintance . Ava. She is – or used to be – a monster hunter and she has been taking blood from him.”

You blurted out the words in one breath, hoping he wouldn't ask you to repeat yourself.

If there was anyone who might be able to help you with this issue, it would be Wyll. After all, his experience as a monster slayer and as the Blade of Frontiers had to account for something. 

He looked positively flabbergasted. “A monster hunter… bedding a… vampire spawn?” he drawled out as if trying to make sense of your words. 

That effectively struck a nerve in you. “She is not bedding him… but there is something off about her.”

“Ava you say? That name doesn't ring a bell.”

You mustered all your courage. “Please let me go talk to her… I have a feeling she might be involved in this entire mess.”

That caught his attention. “You think she's behind this? No respectable monster hunter would resort to Necromancy.”

“She's meddling with Alchemy now.”

He seemed… alarmed.

“Very well. I cannot accompany you today, but tomorrow we shall go there.”

You expected more resistance from him, and his sudden availability made you feel very wary all of a sudden.

“How bad do you think this is?”

The Fist appeared from behind Wyll, startling you. “My Lord, we ought to go. We have a council meeting to attend.”

Wyll nodded and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe it's nothing at all.”

Maybe it's nothing, but it could be anything…

As he moved out and the door closed behind him, Astarion hurried to join your side, clearing his throat.

“You two have gotten quite close.”

You scoffed at him, not in the mood for indulging in his banter.

“Well, being pleasant to others has its perks.”

Astarion smirked widely, his fangs peeking through. “I can be pleasant, darling.”

You rolled your eyes.

But it seemed that Astarion was bent on having your attention on him.

“So… sweet and righteous Wyll?”

You squinted, realising where this was headed. “Are you jealous, Astarion?”

As expected, he didn't bend easily to your taunt as he was a master at it and an equally skilled dodger.

So, he merely held his smirk, seeing through your intent. 

“Can I feed on you tonight?”

Your heart skipped a beat. 

Right.

He still needed to feed.

His bluntness caught you slightly off guard. “Uh… of course.”

You watched as his smile only grew wider before he leaned in to plant a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your eyes widened as the coldness of his lips parted from your skin and your mouth fell agape.

“Splendid.”

And he swiftly went back to his embroidery duties, humming some camp songs as if he hadn't just made your heart almost implode.

Across the room, you spotted Lae'zel rolling her eyes.

Astarion came to you in the dead of night.

The door to your room clicked shut behind him and you immediately felt your body react to his presence.

With only candlelight and the muted glow from the moon spilling through the uncovered windows, you realised he looked more beautiful than ever.

Your heartbeat nearly doubled as you rose from your bed, waiting for him to close the distance.

And he did.

With sure and slow steps, he came to you.

His black shirt held a new embroidery near the collar.

Exquisite needlework.

He held a faint smile as you traced the flowery lining with one finger.

“This is beautiful.”

“My fingers can make or break,” he whispered softly, his crimson eyes set on you. “Depending on what the situation requires, that is.”

You swallowed hard as his words seeped through your mind, reminding you that the man before you had experience and knowledge in matters you could only dream of achieving.

He held your chin, gently tilting your head, and your eyes fluttered shut as you waited for a kiss.

And he did kiss you.

Just not where you expected.

Or wanted.

His lips lingered on the swell of your cheek, your body already accustomed to the difference in temperature.

“I was thinking…”

He hummed, tilting your head slightly to the left, so he could mirror the kiss on the other cheek.

“You can feed on me more often, if you'd like…”

Astarion pulled back slowly, an elegant eyebrow arched. “More often?”

“Yes. If you want to, of course.”

He eyed you in disbelief, the thumb on your chin rubbing gently circles. “If I want to? Darling, if I had it my way, I would feed on you every single day.”

His words hit hard and not because the prospect of that scenario scared you.

But because you wished he would do it.

The moments when he fed on you belonged to the two of you alone. 

No one could interfere in the intimacy of it.

He would not feed on anyone else but you.

And that sort of craving was easy to get addicted to.

You wanted him to want you.

To feel comfortable enough with you that he wouldn't seek anyone else.

“Maybe we can do it every other day, then?” you suggested, nearly gasping as his thumb moved up to trace your lower lip.

Astarion glared at you in silence for a moment, caressing your flesh and occasionally teasing further by pushing past your lips.

“Do you have enough scrolls of Lesser Restoration for that?”

You nodded, feeling his thumb being pushed inside.

“So, I can feed more often…” he said, eyes dropping to your mouth.

He sounded absolutely delighted and you closed your lips around him, earning a low growl of approval.

Then you let go and he moved to your lower lip once again.

“More often, but less quantity.”

He nodded with a smile. “Seems fair.”

The room was already heavy with sexual tension, and you needed to disperse it before things escalated too quickly.

“Are you still tender down there?” you asked sweetly.

“Well, there is only one way to test out if you haven't caused irreparable damage.”

Oh.

Of course.

You felt a wave of heat flush to your face at his words.

Because Astarion would get an erection eventually.

It was expected and, at this point, more than welcome.

“Go on. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, pointing to your bed. 

You stared at him in confusion. He usually fed on you while standing. It was more practical and less intimate.

But then it dawned on you that maybe that was what he was aiming for.

“This one might be a long feed.”

Your expectations shattered at once and you gave him a hesitant stare, remaining rooted in place.

“Honestly, after all the times I fed on you, you still worry I might take it too far?”

“Can you blame me?”

He chuckled, placing both hands on your shoulder before planting a kiss to the back of your head.

“I suppose not, but you are free to press a stake to my chest just in case,” he said teasingly.

You picked a scroll from inside the bedside table, placing it carefully atop as it waited for the inevitable moment.

Slowly, he let go of you so you could settle back on your back, feeling the soft mattress envelop your body.

Your legs were firmly pressed together and you laced your hands in each other and on your stomach, waiting for his move.

Astarion hunched over you before shifting until his face met yours.

You felt the mattress dip under you as he got on top.

At this point, your heart was drumming so loudly in your ears, that it drowned out any other noise.

Unexpectedly, you felt his lips on yours, but before you could react, he had lowered himself until you felt his tongue swiping along the skin of your neck.

Just like clockwork, you felt a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body and lingering between your legs. You tensed up and clutched your hands together more fiercely, bracing yourself for what was to come.

The initial sting made you jolt lightly as he pushed his fangs further into you, before his lips closed around the wound and he began to suck.

The first gasp didn't take long to spill from your lips from the sound of his faint moans.

The throb between your legs continued to intensity with each passing second, and you prayed to any god above to spare you from succumbing to the lurking lust.

You felt him untangle your hands and pinning both your wrists together and above your head as he lowered himself even further.

And much to your embarrassment, your legs instinctively parted to accommodate him as he pressed further into you.

Gods… no, no, no….

This was not good at all.

Even through the fabric of your trousers, you could feel his growing erection nudging against you.

Astarion's chest rumbled in a growl of approval and you couldn't keep your hips from rolling, seeking that delicious friction.

You balled your fists as your back arched when his hips began to match yours.

No… no…

The throb in your head was nearly blinding from the blood being drained whilst the one in between your legs only intensified.

“Astarion…” you moaned through gritted teeth.

He slowed down ever so slightly, but you quickly realise it was even more torturous as you could now feel the clothed underside of his thick cock teasing between your folds.

Oh, you were not going to last long like this…

You were too hungry for him to deny yourself from reaching your peak as he fed on you.

Even as your body became weaker, you could still feel yourself walking dangerously fast to the precipice, yearning that sweet release.

“I'm going… I'm going to…” you mumbled, feeling wetness drip from you as your body readied itself for him to be inside you.

Your breathing quickened and your gasps began to merge together as his cock dug harder against you with each roll.

And just as your eyes closed shut and your mouth parted to welcome the pinnacle of your pleasure, you felt him pull back with a guttural growl.

Blood trailed down his lips and chin and neck and you nearly cried tears of overwhelming frustration as you were denied your release.

He moved to grip the scroll and shoved it into your hand.

“Say it.”

Astarion knelt in between your legs, fumbling with the lacing of his trousers, his bulge strained against the fabric and you spotted the familiar stains of precum.

“Say it…” he urged you with a growl.

But you could only stare, mesmerised at the beautiful sight of relief he let out once he managed to ease pressure that had built up.

It made your mouth water and you suddenly felt the urge to touch yourself.

“Say. It .”

As if he had just snapped you from a dream, you quickly mumbled the incantation as the scroll vanished into thin air.

Your heart was hit with newfound vigour as warmth spread throughout your body on rhythmic waves.

Astarion slid off the bed, adjusting himself through his clothes with a whine. 

He looked so beautiful… ears flushed pink and a tint of a blush on his face as your blood coursed through him.

The swell and throb didn't fade and you allowed your fingers to dip slightly under the waistband, wanting nothing but release.

He eventually locked eyes with you, licking the remnants of your blood from his lips, pacing closer to you.

With a gasp, you felt him tug at the strings of your own trousers, eyes dark and pupils fully blown.

“Do what you must.”

He had loosened them just enough for your hand to slide inside, and you couldn't contain the moan that erupted from within you once the pads of your fingers brushed against the throbbing swell between your legs.

Instinctively, you began to roll your hips, feeling just how ridiculously soaked you were for him.

Your half-hooded eyes landed on his lower half, taking in the sight of the precum that had seeped through the fabric and wishing you could see his cock.

Astarion's cock always looked the prettiest after he had fed on you: all flushed pink, bulging veins snaking around his length, precum dribbling down…

But it seemed that he had no intention of granting you your wish, and you felt guilty for craving it in the first place, knowing he probably just wanted to take his time.

So you stopped your ministrations, which earned a disapproving growl from him.

“Keep going. I can hear how wet you are for me and it's music to my ears,” he whispered, before kneeling at your side. “Be a good girl… please .”

Your hips bucked at the caress from his words.

His face was so close, but his eyes were fixed on your hand that moved under your trousers, your own fingers teasing your entrance.

“You just slid one inside, didn't you?”

You bit down on your lip, nodding with a whimper as you clenched around yourself.

“Gods… you can take another one, can't you?”

Your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut. “Astarion…”

His lips ghosted yours. “Add another one…”

His voice was dripping with lust and it was all the incentive you needed to push a second one inside.

You tried to remember how his cock felt inside you. How full you always felt and how much cum he spilled inside you.

Your fingers were no match for him.

He felt so much better…

How you wished he would replace your fingers with his, going knuckle-deep and drawing out the most desperate moans and pleas from you.

He finally pressed his now warm lips against yours and you eagerly deepened the kiss, tasting your blood on his tongue.

You kept riding your own fingers and you nearly whimpered as his hand came to rest on your forearm, thumb caressing your heated skin.

He broke the kiss not long after and your eyes snapped open as you were about to voice a complaint.

Astarion was on his feet again, fingers expertly tying the front of his trousers once again, drawing a pained hiss as his hard cock was once again strained. 

You whimpered in response, rolling your hips desperately as your fingers edged you closer and closer.

“It's frustrating, isn't it?” he asked as he finished working on the lacing, crushing your hopes of seeing his cock leaking precum for you.

“Now you know how it feels..." he said, a devious smile crossing his face. "Besides, I still wonder if this is what friends do."

Your jaw slacked open as a gasp mixed with a whine escaped your lips from his taunting words.

No. No. No...

"See, you never gave me an answer, darling."

You removed your fingers from deep within you with a long and pained whine on the verge of tears.

"I'll leave you to figure it out, then."

Before you could voice a protest, he slipped out of the room quickly, and you vaguely wondered if he had been there at all if not more the ache between your legs and the fresh puncture wounds in your neck.

Fuck.

TBC

series masterlist . ao3

[holybibly]

Bunnies, are you ready?

These are the unholy thoughts of the day: hot cowboys with a lactation kink and a strong oral fixation who find it difficult to keep their hands to themselves when they meet a pretty busty waitress in a saloon who works part-time as a breastfeeding nanny during the day.

Your town wasn't big, but it was certainly a picturesque place to relax, so when rumours spread through the bustling streets and saloons about four damn good-looking cowboys from the big city, you didn't pay much attention. Cowboys often came to your town to take a break from the hustle and bustle. For you, they were just extra income as hot, horny things dropped fabulous amounts of money in your saloon to drink and entertain.

Especially as you've been so busy lately with your part-time job as a breastfeeding nanny that all you can think about is how much your breasts ache from all that milk and how much you want to milk yourself to relieve their heavy weight and plumpness.

When a noisy, chaotic crowd poured into your saloon this evening, it took your table, and you didn't expect much. Just another customer on another night, but God, how wrong you were, especially when the blue-haired cowboy, whose name you later learned was Hongjoong, wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, playfully running his fingers into your deep cleavage.

"Sweet lady, will you join us today, hm?" He purred in your ear, pulling down the hem of your blouse slightly, exposing your plump, milky tits even more to the gaze of his friends.

"I don't think so." You slapped his arm, freeing yourself from his grip. The cocky cowboy grinned, letting you go easily but not losing sight of the wet stains on your blouse, and the other guy at once commented that.

"Pretty lady, is breast-feeding? Or is there a milkshake on the menu?" His cat-like eyes narrow and focus on your cleavage as his tongue runs along his bottom lip, leaving a wet, glistening mark.

"Lord, San, don't be so shameless; you can't say such things." Another guy, with long hair and scarlet lips, rebuked him. And you were about to thank him, but his next sentence made you abandon that idea completely. "I wouldn't mind tasting that milk, though. I bet the taste is simply divine."

"Hmm..." The last guy sitting in the corner of the booth hummed. "Are you free, doll, or is someone already milking your pretty tits?"

"Assholes," you hissed, adjusting your corset. The tension of the fabric on your sensitive nipples only made you leak more milk. You sighed heavily, wanting to get away from the brazen, shameless cowboys whose eyes were now literally devouring you.

"Oh, don't be angry, beautiful." The blue-haired guy laughed and leaned back against the soft wall of the booth. "I'm Hongjoong; this is Seonghwa." He pointed at a guy with long hair. "San, but you've heard his name before. And this is Mingi." He pointed to a tall guy in the corner of the booth. "We're new here, and you're so gorgeous; can you blame us for being interested? But still, do you have someone, or should we try our luck?"

You roll your eyes in annoyance and look from one guy to the other until your eyes meet Hongjoong's.

"You're not my type, stud. So calm down, place your order, or get out of here. You know, there are a lot of other people who would like to be in your place.".

"The only place I want to be right now is..." San didn't get to finish because Seonghwa covered his mouth with his hand, but he didn't have to finish for you to understand what he meant.

"Don't pay any attention to him, doll. San is a very straightforward guy, but he's harmless." Mingi said, leaning towards you, only to wrap his arm around your hips and pull you towards him. "You know what they say, doll, safe the horse, ride the cowboy. Want to try?"

"Isn't someone falling for that?" You ask, squirming in Mingi's arms.

"Usually it works, yes." Seonghwa notices and reaches out to you, cupping your chin with his fingers and forcing you to look into his eyes. "I hope you can ride horses well, because we're going to give you a real wild rodeo, little flower."