#Queer Predicament

[mossy-vulpes]

I love a cruel predicament

Tied and tortured by my dear friend Howl

[dudeslut]

Low-key denying myself right now because it hurts so good! I've been painfully hard and leaking for the past hour, growing more and more needy. I just know it would feel sooooo good to touch myself, but the ache of denial is making my head spin. I'm so horny all I can think about is how much I want to play with my cock.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

UGH the ONE friend willing to go along with my fake dating scheme is back in my uni town and I CANNOT ask the friend I survived a homoerotic female friendship with in high school to help me out, which means NO fake dating scheme smh this is important why do I have no fake gf to go to the event with, it's literally pride month

[tiredemofemme]

very fucked up that i just came and there was no one there fucking me to see how angelic i must’ve looked

[morticry]

the greeks would have loved this at troy.

[thatfizzyyyy]

i have such a complicated relationship with reading

[atyourmerci]

Vengeance (500 followers celebration!!)

The boat scene we deserved ;)

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby finds you drunk, hiding away on a boat. Will you leave your girlfriend and run off with your childhood love?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, sub!reader, hate sex, abby being possessive, cheating (tsk tsk don’t do this), fingering, slapping, slight overstimulation, dubcon since reader is drunk but consenting

A/N: so this is the overall winning poll for the celebration so I hope you all enjoy! I don’t think I’ve ever read boat scene for queer abby so I’m like lowkey scared if this is uncharted territory lmao. Also this like loosely?? Follows what happens in g2 but I just made it gay as fuck also unrealistic for the relationship dynamic but I! Don’t! Care! Okay bye!

♡ ♡

“Thought I’d find you here,” she looks disappointed, but knowingly. Of course she would find you here, where the fuck else would you have gone, home? There was no home.

“Ya’no he’ll kill you too for just coming to find me,” slurs out your mouth, you’d be drinking since dawn perhaps. Drinking every bit you have left, not like you’d have a rainy day in store for you come sunlight.

“I’ll take my chances…” she situates herself up on the bench with her forearms lazily cast over her thighs, “how much have you had to drink,” it’s not accusatory, more of a redundant question she knew the answer to before she’d ever taken off to find you.

You take another hefty swig straight from the dirty bottle, letting the lip knock against your teeth. “Fuck off,” you throw out at her, eyes cast on the doorway she had walked through, both dead men walking now.

“So you want to tell me what happened,” now she begins to pry, all the rumors she had heard, maybe they were true, but she thought she knew you better. Once she did, when she was yours, if you could even call it that. Perhaps unspoken puppy love, a trauma bond of sorts. Whatever it was, was over, not that you ever had the decency to tell her. You were with someone else now, whether it was right or not, it was your newfound reality.

“I’m not like you…” your gaze meets hers at last, the words trail off, she knew what she had heard was true. “I couldn’t fucking do it, she was pregnant, begged for me to spare her…the kid. You don’t understand what it’s like, my morals are fucked from those people. This isn’t us. This isn’t you.”

“You don’t think I’ve been put in fucked situations?”

“That’s my point abby, this is all fucked…” you throw your hands hazardously in the air that springs droplets of the honey liquor flying out. Your feet move on their own, bringing you into an upright position as you begin closing in on her, “we are all just chess pieces in their game, when will you understand that.”

She rises out of her seat to meet your stance, she was much stronger, much more intimidating than you could ever surmount to, but the honey liquid encouragement was working overtime. “So you’re just going to run off? you can’t escape this,” her words reek of venom now.

“Come with me,” it comes out as a plea, but confident in meaning. She lets out a scoff at your attempt, shaking her head at your scheme. “What you’re just going to leave her?” She didn’t need to give a name, a further explanation, you both knew the predicament well enough.

Would you leave her?

“Yes.”

“You’re a fucking ass you know that-“ she begins to walk past you but you take grip at her muscled bicep, you feel as it twitches under your grasp.

“Abby-“ you begin to plead. She gives you one last look of adoration before ripping you to pieces.

She begins backing you into the nearest wall, pushing her hands into your chest to get you to her desired location, “no- fuck you- you don’t get to do that anymore.” She continues to dig her palms into your chest, you try to pull them off of you to no avail, on any day you’d be no match for her strength, but today the liquor only worsened your case.

“You know you’re different,” you bite at her, deepening your gaze, letting your eyes speak louder than your words could. She takes a moment to stare at you, truly wondering if you’d even meant it, if she knew the truth. “Don’t fucking do that-“ her palm grips at your throat now with no real threat as her other palm continues to dig into the flesh of your chest.

“You know it’s true abby.”

“God I fucking hate you,” she says through gritted teeth. She can barely get out the sentence before clashing her mouth against yours. She ravenous, eating you alive, digging her fingers into your soft flesh. She wasn’t allowed to have you for so long, but now, for however long she could, she’d reclaim what was hers.

Shes sloppy, mouth messy against yours as you both fight for dominance, dueling for the right over one another. While her teeth begin to bite down at your lip she brings her wavering fingers to the button of your jeans, attempting to break you out of any confines that are in her way. She rips them down off of you with no generosity as she whips you around so that your chest and palms are pressed into the wall.

You can’t see her, she wanted it that way. This was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. In the end you were always hers anyways.

You’re left panting into the cold wood of the walls, awaiting her punishment. Her large hands grip into your bare hips, jutting them out so they meet her completely clothed pelvis.

“Always were so pliable huh?” She taunts into the shell of your ear, making you shutter under her breath.

“I hate that you made it happen like this,” her hand swings down and lays a stinging smack into the meat of your ass, you breathe out hoarsely. “I hate what you do to me,” another smack is laid into you, this time eliciting a whine to escape your throat. “I fucking hate what you make me feel,” this time the infliction came harder than the rest, the slick now beginning to run down your thighs, aching so badly to be touched.

“Abby- please.”

Her knee comes between your own, opening them up wider for her, your slick stringing a sticky web between your thighs. Her hand snakes around your waist, without warning leaving a gentle smack onto the mound. You let out an eager whimper at the decadent pain. She rubs the wound quickly after, feeling your built up arousal in her fingertips that elicits a smug groan in your ear.

She continues to rub down your slick slit with no true target in mind, coaxing as many pathetic moans she could get at her indirection for your pleasure.

“Does she touch you like this?”

You don’t respond, brain too fuzzy to play into her antics. Another smack is laid into the soft pink flesh, hitting your swollen clit perfectly.

“Do you let her?” She says with more aggression this time, rubbing harsh circles around your clit now. You can’t help the guttural moan that comes out, “y-YES.” You should lie, but you didn’t want to know what she would do if she found out you were lying.

Her pace doesn’t falter, continuously circling the swollen bud, “does she feel better.” You pause for a moment, knowing the answer but forced with the moral dilemma of speaking it- “no.”

“I know.” Her fingers come off your clit causing a pathetic whine out of you. Her hand comes to the back of you now, her fingertips prodding at your fluttering hole, teasing the impending doom of her cruelty.

“Deep breath,” she commands of you. You pace your rapid breathing to suck in deep- when she hears the air hit your lungs she plunges her pointer and middle finger deep inside. There’s no grace, no sympathy as she beats into you. Her fingers already coated in your slick haphazardly plunging into your sweet spot.

Your screams don’t stop now, so completely full from her fingers, lust coating your eyes over white. You bite into her forearm placed next to your head to stabilize herself, teeth cutting close to the bulging veins. Her own breath beginning to falter, you can hear the faint moans trailing out her own mouth, almost completely covered by your moans.

Your walls start closing in on her fingers, she rips her free hand out of the tight enclosure of your mouth, in seconds working tight circles on your enlarged clit. The sensation of both stimulants drawing you to the edge of your climax “abby- I’m going t-“

“Tell me you don’t love her.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy, of course she wasn’t. But you’d do anything for release now. “I don’t- I- don’t!”

Her fingertips on your clit stop circling as she pinches onto it, and thrusts even harder into your hole, “say her fucking name.”

You’re screaming out, breathless, mind numb, you’d kill to finish at this point.

“I don’t love Ellie! Please!”

“Good girl now cum on my fingers,” and like that she continued, fucking into you relentlessly, fingers barely stable coated in slick at your clit.

Your ears began to ring as your orgasm took full autonomy over you, sending waves of pleasure down your pathetic structure and out through your needy throat. All you could muster out was incoherent spells of curses and the name of your capture. She took everything she could from you, never letting up till you begin to shake from the overstimulation.

Her fingers trailed from your clit to your hip, she dug her nails into the flesh there. The fingers wedged in your hole remained, gently thrusting when she felt it pulse, eliciting strained whimpers from you.

“I hate that I love you,” as she pulled her fingers out of you, leaving you there limp.

What happened before this?

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow @a-little-bit-of-everybody

[mx-paint]

.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

An example of queercoding in Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship: Madam Faruzan edition

Due to the rules in place for game development in China, the possibility for queer confirmation within Genshin Impact is denied, which therefore renders the usage of characters alluding to the potential romantic connection between two same-sex characters as impossible. However, the same insinuation can be made by omitting specific language which strictly conveys romantic sentiments, such as ‘couple’. Instead, the idea of secrecy or something unmentionable can be drawn upon as indicators, as this draws parallels to the taboo of homosexuality practiced within certain cultures and media forms, which the real world audience can identify.  

For example, Alhaitham and Kaveh as secret housemates. This can be used to convey an idea of ‘taboo’ as Kaveh desires to protect his reputation by concealing his shame of having to live with Alhaitham. In-game, the context here is that Kaveh wants to uphold his reputation of a successful architect, but within Alhaitham’s Story Quest, upon the player’s discovery of Kaveh living with Alhaitham, this context is omitted for some time. This prompts Paimon to question what exactly Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship is, with Kaveh denying that the two used to be friends but are not anymore: “I wouldn’t say ‘friends’ exactly”.

This tactic of double entendre can be seen again in A Parade of Providence when Paimon almost reveals Kaveh’s living situation to Faruzan.

Faruzan’s can be observed to resort to a thinking pose, in comparison with Layla, when Alhaitham is mentioned in relation to Kaveh wanting to buy property, as Paimon almost ‘outs’ the truth, that Kaveh resides with Alhaitham.

She then seemingly dwells upon the subject, as she returns to it after Kaveh requests for a change of topic later in the conversation. Here, Faruzan follows up on whether Kaveh lives alone, which he fails to deny. 

Here, it can be seen that she has already began associating Kaveh and Alhaitham, possibly speculating that the two live together. When Kaveh fails to supply an answer, therefore not denying her theory, she explicitly ties the two together, and asks if the two are “hiding” something.  

This question evokes a physical reaction from Kaveh, as he denies this question out of fear of being revealed, with Paimon opting to leave in order to cover her role in revealing Kaveh’s predicament.  

A deliberate potentiality has been created here in regard to what Faruzan has inferred, as her phrasing of “are you two hiding something from me?” is non-specific. Rather than asking: “are you two living together?”, she asks a question which holds multiple connotations. Due to the ambiguity of her meaning, her question can be observed as a non-explicit version of the: “are you two a couple?” question.

On the surface, this question is a reference to their situation as roommates, however, her phrasing is non-specific, and hints to another cause for “hiding” something. For Faruzan, Kaveh’s blatant evasion of the topic and dismissal of Alhaitham’s name, could easily be inferred as “hiding” a romantic connection – which is something that the player, too, can pick up on from her gesture of suspicion, her inquisitive questioning, and her excitement when piecing together the clues. The ambiguity of her question generates multiple meanings as to why she has surmised the two could be “hiding”.  

This overt secrecy in Kaveh’s living with Alhaitham, another man, prompts the player to generate associations between this in-game secrecy and real world queer shame. In this, there is an implication of the need for Kaveh to confirm the status of his relationship between him and Alhaitham. Not only does this scene connotate an ‘outing’, in which a queer character has their queerness forcibly revealed to a heteronormative audience, but this creates a sense of secrecy, which, again, can be interpreted by the player as ‘taboo’.  

Kaveh does not want to tell anyone of his living situation out of preserving his stellar reputation, however, Faruzan is missing this context. She relates Alhaitham and Kaveh together in the phrasing “you two”, coupling them together in a secret that they “hid[e]”. The player understands this as indicating to their living situation, however, this creates a separate context which Faruzan has interpreted and that, we, as the audience are not privy to, but can interpret based on her allusions to cohabitation between two men being a secret.

Whilst this is not explicitly romantic within Genshin’s world of nameless sexuality, Faruzan’s ambiguous questioning here draws parallels between real world understanding of sexuality and the connotations of queerness which stems from two men living together in secret. 

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

[therainscene]

There upon a rainbow is the answer to a Neverending Story: Will's time-travelling coming-of-age

[Spoilers for The First Shadow ahead, though they don't begin until after the cut. And obligatory disclaimer that I haven't seen the play for myself yet.]

Will Byers is a character haunted by his past.

I mean, obviously, right? After the awful events of S1, Zombie Boy finds himself getting literally hunted down by a giant metaphor for trauma; by S3, when all his friends are starting to grow up, Will is still clinging pathetically to childhood escapism while that trauma metaphor continues to bristle under his skin.

That's not to say that Will's refusal to conform to other people's ideas of what growing up means isn't one of his strengths -- but there's a difference between that and refusing to grow up at all, and Will is very much digging his stubborn little heels in when it comes to the inevitable changes of adolescence.

Because Will is also a character haunted by his future.

As a gay boy growing up in an era that despises gay men, Will's fate has been quite clearly spelled out for him: if he's lucky, he'll just be looked down upon as a pervert; if he's not, he'll get murdered or become an AIDS statistic.

It's hard not to be a late bloomer when you know how quickly undesirable flowers get pruned.

So the prickling at the back of his neck doesn't just flare up in moments that remind him of his past, but also in moments that remind him of his future.

The dark intimacy of the cinema and the sweltering eroticism of the sauna remind him that his feelings for Mike are developing into something new and terrifying...

...while Milevn's heteronormative antics remind him of how unlikely it is that Mike would ever want that sort of future with him anyway.

Even his debriefing on the Mind Flayer's return hints towards his struggle to accept this truth about himself:

Will describes his encounters with the Mind Flayer as like being frozen in place, and I think that applies to his timeline too: the Shadow surrounds him on both sides, boxing him in, preventing him from moving forward or backward.

The only temporal direction open to him is sideways... towards that equally frozen realm the Shadow came from in the first place.

And he's not the only one in this predicament.

-------------------

Like Will, Henry was trapped in an alternate dimension as a child, and like Will, the Mind Flayer followed him home and possessed him -- allowing past and future to torment his adolescent self in tandem.

Brenner pressures and manipulates young Henry to give in to the dark urges demanded by the Shadow, sending him helplessly down the path towards becoming Vecna.

It's the classic self-fulfilling prophecy that dooms many a "difficult" (traumatized/neurodivergent/queer) child whom the adults in their life have no idea how to handle: Henry is deemed too broken to be worth treating with patience or compassion, and when the abuse finally does break him... well, that's just proof they were right about him all along.

The Shadow possessing Henry in 1959 somehow presents not as a formless cloud of particles, but as the spider monster he himself would shape twenty years later...

...and I think this is evidence of a predestination loop.

El didn't just banish Henry to Dimension X, but sent him back in time, allowing him to create the same monster that possessed him as a child. The Shadow was never an alien -- it was a manifestation of Henry's worst possible future, bootstrapped into existence by Brenner's meddling.

Note that this means El is also trapped in a self-creating loop:

If El hadn't used her powers to send Henry to Dimension X, then he never would have been able to sabotage his own childhood... which means Henry might never have become an asset to Brenner, which means Terry would never have been injected with Henry's blood, which means El would never have been born with powers.

To be clear: I'm not saying that El or Henry brought this on themselves.

This is all an allegory for the cycle of abuse, so the self-sabotage going on here isn't about these characters literally being to blame for what Brenner did to them, but about how they self-blame: internalizing the abuse and perpetuating harm in turn.

Let's return to Will and consider one of the show's biggest mysteries: why was he taken in S1?

The play heavily implies that Henry's powers were acquired in Dimension X, and outright states that the lab kids' powers came from Henry's blood, so it's unlikely that Will was born with powers.

Maybe Will was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... but then why was it so important that this random kid be spared from Vecna's plans to kill everyone in S2? Perhaps something happened during his week in the Upside Down that made him an asset to Vecna... but given the similarities between Will's connection to the Mind Flayer and Henry's, I propose an alternative explanation:

Whatever made Will a target in S1 is something that won't happen until S5. Because Will is also trapped in a predestination loop.

If predestination loops are what happens when a self-sabotager is linked to the supernatural, then frankly it's almost impossible for Will not to be trapped in one.

Every season since returning from the Upside Down, Will has sacrificed himself to help his friends fight the horrors... and all three of those sacrifices have been deeply entwined with his feelings for Mike.

In S2, Will was willing to die to save his friends from the Mind Flayer after Mike's heartfelt monologue broke through his possession.

In S3, Will bottled up all the pain he was feeling after his fight with Mike and refused to address it again once he realized the party was going to need his help with the Mind Flayer.

And in S4, Will pretended that his painting was actually from El in an attempt to support Mike -- and save the day once it started to look like a S2-esque monologue from Mike was needed once again.

Over and over, Will takes the love he feels for another boy and channels it into The Greater Heteronormative Good as though he's trying to atone for something. But the older he gets, the less effective that becomes:

S2's sacrifice was crucial to saving the day.

S3's sacrifice was helpful... but like... his role was to be a glorified Geiger counter; he didn't exactly need to shut down emotionally to pull it off.

S4's sacrifice did fuck all to save the day, and he definitely didn't need to meddle with Milevn's relationship by injecting a lie into it -- the painting could have passed as platonic if he wanted.

If this pattern holds, then we can expect Will's next move to start causing harm.

I usually interpret Troy's above line as Vecna foreshadowing... but what if it's actually foreshadowing how Will's nearly-adult self is going to start the chain of events that lead to 12 year-old Will's kidnapping?

Homophobes often accuse gay men of being a threat to children, which is rich because homophobia is the actual threat to children. In his desperate efforts to suppress the desires that make him a target to homophobes, all Will has accomplished is to hurt himself on homophobes' behalf. He's become a homophobe.

And thus he dooms an innocent child to needless horrors.

It's tempting to believe that Will's S5 coming-of-age is going to involve breaking the loop and undoing all the horrible things that happened...

...But I don't think this is likely to be the sort of time travel story in which the past can be undone. For one thing, Will breaking the loop would also undo the entirety of Stranger Things; for another, this show isn't really about defeating abuse so much as surviving it.

My bet would be that Will can't destroy the loop any more than he can destroy 80s homophobia. But once the loop completes, he'll also be free to leave it in the past and take a brave step into the future -- one in which he fully accepts his right to be in love and lust with a boy.

As scary as that future is...

...he might be pleasantly surprised by what he finds there.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Tiger Club (part 1)

Steddie || ~2.1k words || rating: M || tags: single-dad steve harrington, teacher eddie munson, teacher chrissy cunningham, eddie and chrissy are best friends, steve harrington is dustin and max's dad, dustin and max are twins, meet cute, humor and fluff

~~~

Eddie’s not usually a teacher to bitch about his job. He loves getting his little kiddos excited about reading and story-telling, and surprisingly, teaching is just as fulfilling as he’d hoped it’d be.

This year, however, he drew the proverbial short straw for extracurricular activities. When he was asked to coach soccer he supposes he could’ve politely declined instead of gagging in the middle of the teacher’s meeting, embarrassing the new Principal and causing the history teacher to actually vomit. Empathetic vomiting– Eddie’s a teacher and he’s still learning something new every day.

Does he really seem like the kind of guy who coaches sports? No, of course not. He’ll leave that to the gorgeous and talented math teacher Ms. Cunningham, and the unbearable meathead Phys. Ed. teacher Mr. Carver, who won’t stop drooling over her like a jock peacocking for the head cheerleader. A relatively adept assessment since Chrissy coaches the Little Tumblers gymnastics team and Jason coaches Tiger Cubs basketball.

Regardless, because of Eddie’s little stunt, he’s been relegated to alternating his after school hours between Tiger Club, and detention. The two most boring extracurriculars for kiddos and teachers alike. All he does is wait for parents to pick their kids up, and they’re either too busy demanding to know why they’re child is in detention, or screaming for them to get in the car, to stop and say well hello Mr. Munson, thank you for watching little Joanie today. The small consolation to his predicament is he alternates each week with Ms. Cunningham.

When Chrissy started at Hawkins Middle last fall, Eddie knew exactly what to expect: an ex-high school jock turned girl’s sportsball coach, hoping to relive the glory days. Someone who’d be cocky, self-righteous, and bitchy.

To his surprise, she turned out to be quiet and withdrawn, separating herself from the rest of the staff. He’d thought she’d warm up soon enough, but when she still hadn’t made any friends by winter break, Eddie decided to do something about it.

He adopted her as one of his sheep– a practice of gathering misfits he’s continued into adulthood. She looked skeptical when he first invited her out for happy hour, wary after weeks of Jason’s obnoxious flirting. 

Two margaritas later, he’d learned Chrissy had come out to her family who’d then promptly disowned her for her sinful ways. She moved out, got her degree, and took the first job offered to her at Hawkins Middle.

Eddie couldn’t be more grateful for her presence in his life. Chrissy is his other half and she seems to feel the same. She’s not cocky or arrogant, although she’s definitely bitchy, but in a way which perfectly matches him. Chris knows how to take him down a peg, and he knows how to lift her up. They balance each other inside and out.

The other staff, however, see them as an odd pair solely because of their severely opposing aesthetics. Where Eddie’s etched in hard edges and dark colors, donning leather jackets and a myriad of old concert t-shirts, Chrissy flows in soft lines and pastels, garnered in sundresses and cardigans with the occasional jersey for game days. 

Many of the staff also love to gossip about a possible secret relationship between the pair– opposites attract and all of that nonsense– which actually works well for them. Better for everyone to think they’re sleeping together rather than the rural people of Indiana discovering queers working around their young, impressionable children. 

From their first happy hour, they’d started the Friday tradition of swiping dating apps and bitching about their love lives over margaritas and nachos. It’s one of the best parts of Eddie’s week.

And it’s Friday, which means they should be huddled in their corner booth right now, one shot of tequila each under their belts. But here he is, standing outside next to the jungle gym at 4pm waiting for the twins to be picked up by their dad. 

Go figure the guy’s late. Again. 

According to Chrissy, this guy Steve has been late every day this week– and it’s only the first week of school. He’s probably one of those parents who thinks teachers work to serve them, like they don’t have their own lives outside of school. It’s Friday for shit’s sake, he’s hungry and he needs a smoke.

“Chris, this is ridiculous. Detention ends at 3:30, same as Tiger Club. Are we just going to keep letting this guy get away with this?” Eddie’s fingers twitch towards the vape in his back pocket. Obviously he doesn’t smoke in front of the kids, but they’re supposed to be gone by now.

“Eddie, just relax, okay? He’s a nice guy, and it sounds like he’s a single dad with a chaotic job. Try to cut him some slack.” She gives him a reassuring smile, knocking her elbow into his side. “Don’t worry we’ll get some salsa in you and you’ll be good as new,” she snarks.

He shoots her a seething glare but she just smiles at him and smoothes out her sundress against the summer breeze. As Eddie crafts the perfect retort– it was going to be a really good one too– a maroon BMW SUV pulls up to the curb.

Fucking finally, Eddie thinks. If Chris isn’t going to say anything to this guy about his chronic tardiness, then he will.

They both start towards the car when a tall woman with a dark blonde bob and a pale freckled face steps out of the driver’s seat. She’s wearing a cropped Hozier t-shirt and oversized cotton overalls covered in pins. Eddie notices a small white, pink, and orange flag next to a pin of a cartoon ghost with boobs that just says “boooooobies”. He likes her already.

Eddie turns to ask Chrissy who this mystery woman is, but it seems she’s also clocked the pins.

“You’re not Steve,” Chrissy shouts. She winces as the woman arches her brow at the abrupt outburst. “I just mean that Steve has been here every day, and that’s his car, but you’re not Steve. I mean, obviously you’re not Steve, you’re you. You know you’re not Steve, you don’t need me to tell you that.”

The following silence is solid and impenetrable. Eddie’s never seen Chrissy this flustered before. Her bambi eyes shine wide and bright, paired with a hot pink flush climbing up to her ears. She’s fiddling with the buttons on her lavender cardigan and it seems like she can’t decide if she should stare directly at the woman in front of her, or very intensely in absolutely any other direction.

Not-Steve’s growing smile and matching blush tells him maybe he’s not the only one who’s noticed Chrissy’s little crush.

Interesting.

Just as Eddie steps in to save his friend from mortal anguish, he’s interrupted by high-pitched screeches from the playground.

“Auntie Robbie,” the twins cry in unison. It’d be creepy if they weren’t so goddamned adorable. 

“My munchkins!” The kids crash into her, the three of them falling to the ground in a heap of limbs. “Oof okay let’s make sure you don’t take me out before I can get you twerps home.”

He only knows of the twins from what Chrissy has told him this week, since she gets to see all of the incoming sixth graders, whereas Eddie teaches seventh and eighth grade. Working with younger kids is great, don’t get him wrong, but the available reading material for his literature units only gets better with age.

The curly-haired boy scrambles up to collect his Minecraft hat from where it’d fallen off in the scuffle. He’s small, hyperactive as all hell, and missing his front teeth, which Eddie can only tell because of the kid’s unbridled megawatt smile. 

While the boy raves about his school day, the young red headed girl rolls her eyes at his antics, but it’s easy to spot the fondness underneath. Her two copper braids are adorned with small butterfly clips, matching the fake butterfly tattoos on her left wrist. In contrast to her more girlish accessories, she’s wearing a Hawkin’s Hospital softball team shirt which has to be a men’s medium, at least. It’s been tucked into her hot pink shorts, but it drowns her nonetheless.

In short, they’re both absolutely adorable.

When Eddie turns his attention from the kids, Chrissy’s finishing gently explaining the pick up times. Thank God.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Robin sheepishly replies. “His shifts have been really hectic this week and he’s on call today so–”

“Wait,” the girl interrupts. “Does that mean he won’t be home for dinner?” She moves to stand away from the mess of tangled limbs, scowling to hide the obvious hurt in her eyes.

“Max, honestly I’m not sure. I know he’s trying really hard to change his shifts, so hopefully it won’t be forever. Okay?” The reassurance seems to ease a bit of the tension in Max’s shoulders and scrunched brow. “But to make up for it, we’re going to have dinner at Aunt Nancy and Uncle Johnny’s house. I think the Sinclairs will be there too.”

“Ooooooo,” the boy teases, a shit-eating grin on his face, “Lucas will be there!”

“Shut up, Dustin!” Her fingers reach up to fidget with the small heart pendant on her necklace, while a light blush coasts across her freckles.

“Okay kiddos that’s enough, let’s get you out of here so your wonderfully patient teachers can actually start their weekend,” Robin replies, smiling while coaxing the twins towards the car. “I’m sorry again for being late, I swear it won’t happen again.”

“Totally cool, don’t worry about it,” Chrissy replies, a little too casually. The scarlet that invaded her chest and ears has receded to a dusting of pale pink on her cheeks. Robin’s smile grows wider as the two women stare at each other, cartoon hearts and flying babies in diapers wielding bow and arrows floating around their heads. 

Eddie clears his throat– loudly.

“OH, right,” Robin starts. She reaches up to fiddle one of her many pins as she finally notices Eddie’s presence. “I should let you get back to your, to your uhh, him, I mean.”

“Mr. Munson! He’s just Mr. Munson.” Eddie can actually see the wheels in her brain spinning faster than they can take off. It’s cute, he’s just trying not to feel a little slighted. “He’s my coworker. My friend, actually, he’s my best friend, Eddie.”

“Oh,” Robin says again, more relaxed this time. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry if you’ve had to wait for Steve too.”

“No, I’ve been doing detention, but I’m sure I’ll get to meet him next week. I’ve heard a bit about him from Chrissy. Chaotic work schedule, single dad, twins,” Eddie says, gesturing to Max and Dustin talking amongst themselves.

“Yeah,” Robin absently draws the word out, eyes roaming over Eddie top to bottom.

Surprisingly, he feels himself blush. He’s not even into women but damn has it been awhile since he’s been checked out so blatantly. One of the many queer struggles he and Chris have bonded over is how difficult dating is in Bumfuck Nowhere, USA. So other than the occasional weekend fling in the city for Eddie, and one five-month long-distance relationship for Chrissy, neither have seen any recent action.

Sue him for getting flustered at being so obviously ogled, even if she is clearly into Chrissy. That just leaves Eddie wondering why he’s being visibly raked over by a random lesbian.

“So, Eddie, you said you’ll be here next week, yeah? When Steve’s here for pick up,” she asks, with innocent curiosity in her voice but a glint of something suspicious in her eyes.

“Umm yeah,” he says, very eloquently, “I did just say that.”

“Good! I’ll make sure Steve’s definitely here next week to grab the kids. He should meet all of his kids’ teachers.”

Before Eddie can correct her– he’s not their teacher– Robin shoots him a coy smile and a wink while turning to leave. The kids say their goodbyes, scrambling into the car, and as it pulls away from the curb Dustin rolls down his window to wave as they drive off.

Eddie stands in stunned silence next to his unusually quiet best friend, the two slowly processing the whirlwind of whatever the fuck just happened.

“Well,” Chrissy says, a shell-shocked smile on her face, “I guess we have something to talk about over margs.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, still reeling after the odd interaction, “I guess we do.”

~~~

Part 2

full story on ao3

thank you @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for all the beta work!!

[tswhiisftteedr]

ANYTHING Lute x Reader, i just need to see more of this perfect gal whose had like 3 minutes total of screentime

Girls ☆ One Shot

☆ Lute x Human Soul!Fem!Reader:

After having met you on your first day in heaven, your life and lute’s would change for the better as you had found your other half despite your original predicaments.

Words: 4228

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Honestly Nothing Kinky, It’s just plain girl on girl smut. Homophobia. Lute might be ooc. NOT PROOFREAD.

Notes: Okay right off the bat, some bullshit logic about angels being able to tell if someone is queer, also lute is gay but has some major internalized homophobia so for a good chunk of this she’s rude to the reader just because they’re gay.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Frankly, the scenario felt weird, especially given the fact that both of you were, well, 'you.'

From a logical standpoint, it didn't add up, not in the slightest. However, in the grand scheme of things, ‘does love really need to make sense?’

The response to that question was unquestionably, no, when observing your relationship with Lute.

It all began when your seemingly stable life abruptly crumbled. While crossing the street, mind you, at a red light, fate took a dark turn as a truck with faulty brakes struck you, ending your life on the spot.

There was no reincarnation into another world after this encounter with truck-kun; you were flat out dead.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself standing before the gates of Heaven, where Saint Peter meticulously inspected his book, akin to the VIP list of an exclusive nightclub – or so it seemed.

However, instead of the typical club scene with artificial lights, drugs, unpleasant odours, drunk individuals, and a sense of desperation, you were enveloped in a heavenly realm. Fluffy clouds, savoury food, sweet fragrances, joyful company, and an overwhelming sense of acceptance surrounded you.

This was truly paradise, and you were relieved that your life wasn't too problematic. After being shown your potential residence—a beautiful house with a spacious garden—and touring 'Heaven city' with a friendly Angel couple, you enjoyed exploring your surroundings.

However, the perfection took a turn when you accidentally encountered the first unfriendly 'individual' in Heaven.

"Watch it," the woman with white hair warned you, and after scanning you from head to toe (much like her golden-winged companion), she remarked, "I guess they really let anybody in these days, even people like you."

With those words, she walked away accompanied by the non-human-looking 'man,' which seemed to be the norm in this place. However, you couldn't shake off the unease caused by her reference to 'people like you.'

Soon, you discovered the meaning behind her comment. Apparently, angels here could distinguish between cis-straight and queer individuals.

The reason of ‘why?’ remained unknown to you, but what became clear was that, in her opinion, you didn't deserve Heaven—not based on your actions but solely due to your sexuality, ‘and that pissed you off.’

You had planned to confront her the next time your paths crossed, and that moment arrived three months later, long after you had moved on from the incident;

Now, you were patiently waiting in line to sample drinks at the recently opened smoothie bar. The atmosphere was serene and heavenly, as expected.

Just as it was about to be your turn to order, you were rudely jolted by the announcement, "Move it, bitches, Adam’s in the houuuse."

You found yourself pushed aside, forced to witness the obnoxious Angel now placing his order.

Midway through his order “Pineapple smoothie with extra pineapple, tapioca, grass jelly, make it an extra-large with extra sugar, then she’ll have-“ it suddenly dawned on you that he was the guy with the white-haired companion from last time. Before you could fully process it, you turned around to find the white-haired woman right beside you.

Upon noticing you, she shot a disgusted glare and 'tsk' your way. Frustrated, you thought, 'That rude bitch- Not only did she cut in line, but she also gave you a look like you were a turd on the incredibly clean streets of heaven!'

This time, you were determined to speak your mind to her;

"Whats your problem?" you question her with frustration evident in your tone.

"Excuse me?" she retorts, disdain dripping from her voice.

"I'm asking, what's your issue with me? Our first encounter, you flat out implied I didn't belong in heaven. Seriously, for what, for being gay? Firstly, that's bullshit because my worth as a person shouldn't be based on my sexuality. Secondly, it's just plain homophobic. Isn't heaven supposed to be all about accepting thy neighbour? So instead of treating me like I'm beneath you, how about an apology for our last interaction, Miss off-brand Kanade?" You lay it all out, determined not to let her disrespect slide this time. She was to blame before, but allowing it again would be on you, ‘and that wasn't going to happen.’

"Oooooh, cat fight!" remarked the golden-winged Angel, treating your dispute as some form of entertainment. Also 'cat fight', was he fucking serious?! That term left you thinking, 'misogynistic asshole!' in response to his words.

"Do you even know who you're speaking to?" the woman questioned, exuding a sense of superiority.

"Yeah, tear that bitch a new on, Lute!" the golden-winged Angel chimed in.

"I don't 'lute,' and if you were truly that significant, I would’ve. But it sure as hell doesn't seem to be the case!" you retorted with a touch of spite, placing extra emphasis on her name.

The shop as a hole gasped at the mention of the ‘H word’.

"I’ll have you on that I hold the title of Lieutenant of— in the Heavenly Army. And as one of God's warriors, I deserve respect from someone of your, let's say, slightly above dreadful mortal soul status," she declares, almost slipping up and inadvertently revealing the existence of exterminators.

"Sure thing, 'heaven warrior.' Firstly, when did we ever need an angel like you? It's been peaceful here. Secondly, I couldn't help but notice that slip-up. I don't know your real occupation, probably still military judging by your mannerisms, but certainly not some simple member of this 'heaven’s army,'" you respond, now sure that she's concealing her true job from most of Heaven's population.

"You insolent, miserable, lower life form! Consider yourself fortunate that your meager good deeds in your pathetic human life landed you here. Otherwise, I would have had the pleasure to—" she began, but was abruptly interrupted by her 'companion' or perhaps 'boss.' "Chill out, danger tits," he calmly stated in a tone vastly different from his earlier goofiness. The shift in his demeanor was genuinely unsettling.

And her attitude swiftly transformed; she composed herself and turned to face him. "I apologize, Adam, sir. I allowed my emotions to take over and stepped out of line," she said, directing her apology not to you but to her boss.

With that, the two individuals departed, leaving you to independently apologize to your fellow angels for the disturbance.

Was that the final occasion you heard or saw them? No, because not even a month later, here you were;

Another fun aspect of heaven was its schools, designed for souls who aspired to study on Earth but lacked the opportunity or had their lives cut too short to complete their educations.

Another facet of this scenario allowed the souls of teachers or individuals aspiring to aid in unfulfilled dreams to volunteer for assisting with the children's education.

That's why you found yourself present today, supporting Miss Asiimwe with her fourth-grade anglophone class during a spelling bee. Just as the classroom door swung open, an unmistakably loud and obnoxious voice rang out, "What up turds, big bro Adam's in the house!"

Your day took a turn from a wholesome one contributing to kids' education to a shitty one, because if that ‘pompous jerk Adam was here, she sure would also be—‘ "Oh, it's you again," Lute remarks to you, her voice less harsh than the last encounter but still carrying a hint of bitterness.

Truly, ‘It was a waste for her to be so beautiful with that kind of attitude’. Despite her rude remarks about your sexual orientation, you may or may not find her attractive—perhaps not the wisest choice, and you were aware of such. But hey, after all, dominatrix existed, and they get paid handsomely to insult people. So, ‘is it really that unconventional to be into her?’

Yes, it very much so was. However, before having the chance to delve into those thoughts, Lute abruptly snapped her fingers right in front of your face to divert your attention.

"What are you doing here?! And a quit staring at me like that!" she demanded, replacing her fingers with her face, now uncomfortably close, and you could feel her breath on your face.

"Um, well— I'm assisting this classroom's teacher, something I've been doing since week one in heaven, so you're not kicking me out," you replied with a defensive tone, slightly taken aback by her question but drawing from your previous interactions.

"I never claimed I would, chill out, mortal soul. You shouldn't project the stress of your inadequacy as an inferior being into this classroom's atmosphere. Stress spreads easily, and you wouldn't want it affecting the children," she declares with authority, though her tone and gaze had some gentleness in it.

Truth be told, she might have found herself drawn to you. It was a difficult pill to swallow, given her blatant homophobia and the fact she found the thought of ‘her’ being attracted to a woman absolutely absurd.

Upon initially glimpsing your figure and sensing a certain fire within her, her instinctive response was to be rude to you.

"You mentioned you've been assisting here since your first week. How frequently do you come by?" she inquires, attempting to initiate casual conversations with you. By now, she had acknowledged that you weren't to blame for her attraction. While you might be the source, her draw toward women wasn't dependent on whether she found you hot or not.

"Well, I try to stop by at least twice a week. I believe having familiar faces during learning helps children feel safer and more supported," you admitted, surprised that she's engaging in small talk.

"I completely agree. Having a trusted adult present during learning builds a strong foundation for children's education, especially for the younger ones," she adds, gazing ahead at the classroom where the children have transitioned from spelling to playing with Adam.

"Leave it to the man-child to get along with kids," you joke to yourself, watching how effortlessly Adam bonds with the children. They're engrossed in a game involving knights and kings, with Adam, of course, playing the role of the king.

To your surprise, Lute chuckles at your remark before quickly composing herself. "Well, he is the father of humanity," she states, a faint smile appearing at the corner of her lips.

"I guess I can't argue with facts," you reply, your own face lighting up with a smile at the sight of the joyful children.

After that day, your meetings with Lute became a regular occurrence. Whether it was the joyful atmosphere of children immersed in learning or something else, she grew quite friendly with you over the course of two months. Your interactions even extended beyond the school, evolving into outings to cafes and amusement parks.

Today was one of Lute's off-duty days. You weren't exactly sure why heaven required an army, but you refrained from probing too much, especially during your hangouts, which were focused on enjoying each other's company rather than discussing work.

Currently, you were at CheeLand, the largest amusement park in all of heaven, offering rides for both the faint-hearted and adrenaline junkies alike.

You leaned towards the gentler side when it came to this type of amusement, while Lute embraced the thrill. That's why you found yourself anxiously gripping your seat’s restrains as the cart ascended the rails, anticipating the impending drop.

Your white-haired friend had successfully egged you on, convincing you to join her on the ride. Despite calming yourself in line, once the ride began, all your anxiety rushed back;

Lute, growing excited as the carts continued to climb up, remarked, "This is going to be so fucking fun! Can't believe you were such a baby about it in line." Her teasing tone shifted as she noticed your terrified expression.

Softening, she grabbed your hand and reassured you, "Listen, you'll be alright. The rides are completely safe and secure. Plus, I'm here with you." Her last sentence was emphasized by a comforting squeeze of your hand, prompting you to turn and look at her. "And worst case scenario, you're already dead, so there's nothing to be truly afraid of," she joked, easing the tension slightly.

But then came her next words, reigniting panic. "Okay, get ready, we're almost there." Glancing forward, you realized, "Oh, shit." She was right, and in an instant, the drop arrived. Both of you screamed at the top of your lungs throughout the entire ride…

You emerged from the ride, your head still a bit foggy and your voice hoarse from screaming, with Lute holding your hand.

As you both walk towards a nearby bench for a moment of composure, she remarks, "See, wasn't so bad."

"The fuck it wasn't!" you retort. Just as she's about to tease you for your reaction, you abruptly pull her into a tight hug in a serge of emotions. "But thanks for being with me. I doubt I could have even mustered the courage to join the ride lineup if you weren't here. I'm really grateful you're with me," you whisper softly.

She was startled by the contact, causing her to freeze momentarily. Although her initial instinct was to pull away due to nervousness, she recognized this as a vulnerable moment for you. Awkwardly, she hugged you back and gradually melted into the embrace.

After 5 minutes, the reality of the position hit her, and nerves kicked in. "You're welcome, now get off me, you weirdo," she insists, pulling away from the hug. However, all you can do is smile at her. Despite her attempt to maintain a front, she can't help but crack a smile too. 'She actually enjoyed how close you just were,' but that was something she kept to herself.

At some point in time, you had even overheard her referring to you as her friend to her boss, Adam, who questioned her sudden shift from his side to yours. Her face turned beet red as she defended you—a sight you wouldn't have expected from her at all.

However, that flushed look she harbored became increasingly frequent over time. You had become accustomed to her mannerisms and the way she expressed emotions, often lashing out due to difficulty in self-expression.

You had grown familiar with what brought a smile to her face, what upset her, and especially what left her flustered. By then, you had realized she liked you based on her behaviours, yet it seemed she hadn't recognized the romantic nature of her feelings.

Aware of her confusion, especially considering her upbringing and training, you knew the absence of romance in her education left her clueless about such emotions. Despite this, you chose to let her navigate these feelings on her own. It wasn't your place to impose that you were better aware of her own emotions than she was.

Yet, you played a role in guiding her toward this realization by incorporating more physical gestures, of course, always within her comfort boundaries: holding her hand more often, offering more frequent hugs, ensuring there was some form of touch between you two.

A common occurrence was when you walked together, either with your arm around her or your pinkies linked.

Her flushed face became so habitual that seeing her without it seemed unusual; the red tint became her typical expression when spending time with you.

Take, for instance, that day when you visited the newly opened restaurant on 'Holy Avenue.';

Opting for a Caesar salad, Lute aimed to play it safe in case the other offered dish didn't appeal to her taste. However, as she munched on her food, her gaze kept wandering to your dish, which seemed quite appetizing.

She attempted to deny her desire for a bite, but after spending so much time together, you had become adept at reading her emotions.

Acknowledging her unspoken request, you picked up a small portion with your fork, gesturing for her to join in. Initially embarrassed, she hesitated to refuse, but a single pleading look and she relented.

Her face flushed from the intimate gesture, the question of ‘why was she getting so worked up over your friendly act’ lingered in her mind as she finally took the bite-size food portion. The fact that she found you visually pleasing wasn't the answer she sought. Her feelings were deeper than mere physical attraction.

This realization was further confirmed as she spent the entire night unable to sleep, her mind consumed by thoughts of your hangout and the fact that you had fed her.

Tossing and turning, she found herself questioning the nature of your relationship: were you friends? Yes, that was obvious. Were you a couple? No, definitely not. Did she want you to be more than friends, an item perhaps? "Uuh, fuck," she groaned into her pillow as the realization hit her that she had developed feelings for you.

By now, it seemed like everyone and their mothers were aware of Lute's feelings, evident in her actions toward you. Not only had she begun reciprocating your physical advances, but she also initiated some herself.

Whether it was greeting you with a warm hug after a week apart, including you in her imposed outings with Adam, or playfully wrapping an arm around your waist during these occasions, her actions spoke volumes.

She'd whisper sweet jabs about her boss into your ear, leading to fits of laughter. Adam, in response, would roll his eyes at your intimate gestures, teasing Lute for being too obvious about her affection.

Despite her embarrassment and denials of any romantic feelings, you knew better than to take those at face value.

Yet besides the deep connection you shared, she struggled to express her feelings toward you. Accepting that she liked you had already been a significant challenge. Therefore, the idea of asking you out was currently off the table.

She needed to communicate her sentiments without uttering a word, and that's where today came into play—Valentine's Day.

Lute had dedicated the entire previous day and night to baking the perfect sweet, chocolaty treat for you. Not being accustomed to baking, she faced numerous trials and errors before getting it just right. Now, the moment had arrived for her to present these treats to you.

Having texted you to meet her at 'Wings Caffe' around 10, she patiently occupied a table since 9:30 a.m. following your confirmation text.

Initially, her plan was to simply hand you the chocolate, letting you make assumptions and agreeing when you eventually concluded that she liked you. However, things didn't go as planned, and nerves took over;

"Aww, that's so sweet, Lute. Thank you, really. I didn't get anything today, since y’a know, single as a Pringle," you remarked, pointing to yourself. "These chocolates mean a lot. By the way, they look fantastic. Where did you get them? I'd love to buy more for a snack," you inquired, holding the heart-shaped box.

"Made them," she mumbled, visibly embarrassed by your compliments.

"Really? Wow, I didn't know you baked. Maybe I'll come over to your place more often and have you whip something up for me," you begin. The implication of spending more time together tugs at Lute's chest, but your last sentence hits her hard. "I'm so grateful to have a friend who's skilled at baking and willing to make me things," you say as you start munching on the treats.

'Friends'—that's right, nothing more. It appears she couldn't rely on the heart-shaped box or the chocolate with words of affirmation in pink sprinkles to convey her feelings. If she desired more than friendship, she would have to be honest about her feelings this time.

However, true to her defensive nature, instead of clarifying the true reason behind giving chocolate on the day of love, she merely went along with your characterization of it as a friendly gesture.

"Yeah, I guess you're lucky to have a friend like me, someone so good at everything," she boasted, her voice proud, yet her expression betraying a hint of sadness.

Noticing the inconsistency, you set the box down on the table to free your hands and gently took hers. Meeting her gaze directly, you squeezed her hands for reassurance. "I wanted to let you work things out at your own pace, but we're not making any progress," you began, and she looked at you wide-eyed.

"I like you, Lute, and I know you like me too," you stated frankly. Before she could employ her defense mechanism, you added, "I'm not saying we have to start dating right away. I understand if you're not ready for that. But please keep in mind, as long as you don't outright reject me, I'll keep trying to pursue a relationship with you."

Upon hearing those words, Lute sensed the release of all the built-up stress and fear of rejection.

A newfound confidence surged within her, making her bold enough to grab your face and plant a bold kiss in plain sight for everyone at the café to witness. "Fuck yes, I'll be your girlfriend," she declared as she pulled away.

With a simple "Now, let's get out of here," the two of you stood up from your seats, leaving the café behind as her apartment became your new destination.

Upon reaching her place, things escalated rapidly—like, really rapidly. Mere seconds after stepping through the door, she was all over you.

Passionate kisses, hands exploring every inch of your body, fingers grabbing at whatever they could find. Nails scratching and digging, teeth occasionally biting at your skin when her mouth left yours.

Given the speed with which she undressed you, it seemed like she had envisioned this scenario for quite some time.

Before you knew it, you were lying on her bed, completely devoid of clothing, and that's when she began to work her magic;

Squirming within her grasp, she held your thighs down while eating you out. Breathless, you questioned, "I thought you were a homophobe before we met. How are you so good at this??" The overwhelming sensation of her tongue left you in awe.

You can practically feel her grin against your lips as she responds, "Yep, I was. But after developing a crush on you, I did my homework. Figured it be useful at one point or another. Though, ‘didn't think I'd be that good on my first actual trial.”

"Please don’t stop" you croak out between pants.

“Don’t worry, I won’t." she promised, increasing her rhythm and pressure.

As she continued to please you, you couldn't help but wonder what changed in her. This was way different from her usual flustered self. ‘Was it the time spent together? Or maybe the touch? The combination of both?’

Regardless, you decided to focus solely on the present moment, losing yourself in the sensations coursing through your body. Lute showed no signs of slowing down, proving her dedication to satisfying you.

Eventually, you reached climax, shouting her name as you finally released, your wings fluttered and your essence coated her tongue. Her response? She swallowed it down greedily, moaning around your pussy. When you finally fell back onto the bed, panting heavily, she climbed up beside you, her breasts pressing against your chest.

"That was... intense," you managed to utter between breaths.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she whispered, nibbling on your earlobe.

As you settled down together, Lute traced gentle circles on your stomach before trailing her fingers along your inner thighs. Her thumb brushed against your sensitive folds again, teasingly circling your tight entrance. "Do you want more?" she asked softly, her voice husky with desire.

You nodded weakly, unable to speak coherently yet.

Without further delay, Lute positioned herself between your spread legs again, positioning her own pussy just inches away from where she had been earlier. Lowering herself slowly, she began to rub your clits together, creating a new wave of pleasure that reverberated throughout both of them.

With each thrust of her hips, she increased the pace until you were moving in sync, your moans growing louder as you neared another orgasmic peak.

Your bodies intertwined, united in shared ecstasy, leaving neither wanting nor regretting your decision to explore the concept of a sexual relationship together.

Lute's hands grabbed onto your hips, holding you steady as she picked up speed, driving them both closer to climax. Your nails dug into her shoulders, leaving shallow crescent marks in the soft flesh; evidence of your shared intensity.

You could feel the familiar buildup starting again, your entire body tensing up in anticipation. With one final powerful thrust, Lute groaned loudly, her orgasm crashing over both of you like waves crashing onto shore. In response, you let out a high-pitched cry, joining her in blissful release.

Breathing heavily, you stayed in the same position for several moments longer than necessary, savouring the afterglow of your passionate union.

Eventually, you separated, both panting heavily. Lute rolled off of you, lying next to you on the bed, her chest heaving rapidly.

"That was... incredible," she panted out, reaching over to grab a nearby water bottle and handing it to you.

"Yeah, it was... Although I have to admit, having sex on the first day of making it official is pretty needy," you playfully tease her.

"Oh, shut up," she retorts before planting a kiss on your lips once you've swallowed your sip of water.

This relationship was going to be wilder than what you had anticipated…

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Tag list for Lute: @sunflower-lilly @charlott30045 (I still used your request because it was one that fit with what I had already received)

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[werewolvesrights]

Buster Wilde Weerwolf

I recently was recommended a late 90's/early aughties Internet comic by my good friend @glitchbirds, and I enjoyed it immensely. Buster Wilde Weerwolf is a gay slapstick comic strip created by Scott Zellman about a straight office worker who turns into a queer werewolf, or weerwolf, at night.

Buster is found frequenting gay clubs and is usually getting up to various nonsense caused by his furry predicament.

We also get some brief glimpses into Buster's "normal" life as an office worker named Bernard, which are pretty humorous, as well.

Originally hosted on Geocities, you can read all fifty-two Buster Wilde strips on this website. Or, you can purchase a physical version of the comics here.

[feralfrey]

i mean yeah if i was a high class english woman in the 1800s(?) constantly putting on a facade in order to fit into societal norms to avoid being ostracized, deemed a ‘madwoman,’ and hidden away/locked up or even worse institutionalized, i would ALSO feign ignorance when a loud-mouthed gossip i have to live with started poking around and questioning the particulars of the relationship i had with the woman scandalously dressed up like a man. it would be second nature to deny any acquaintanceship. also, on a more personal note, as a queer person who used to be closeted because being out would put me in a very dangerous predicament at risk of bodily harm, if someone snidely asked me if that “odd girl” was my “…friend” (the undertone in that friend is very clear, ada is an idiot but she sees things) i would panic and do everything i could to create distance between myself and the “odd” girl in question, both for HER safety and my own. anyways i love annabel lee and i think her character is phenomenal and so well-written, im so excited for s2

[infinite-orangepeel]

✨steddie ficlet: public escapades, frotting, drinking, past stommy, hurt/comfort

steve harrington has always been a horny ass drunk.

he thinks back to when he was fifteen and tommy hagan came over to ‘hang out’ while his parents were attending a business dinner.

it had been tommy’s idea to break open steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet and steve had obliged if only to impress his friend.

he wanted tommy to like him. he wanted tommy to think he was cool.

so he broke out an expensive handle of whiskey and beckoned his friend over.

over the next hour, they passed the bottle back and forth. inching closer as the night went on. a buzzing warmth spread through steve’s veins and something about the tickle of tommy’s breath on his neck made him painfully hard.

he’d tried to be subtle about relieving the ache between his legs but tommy wasn’t an idiot and steve’s little whimpers of pleasure were hard to ignore.

especially when they were sitting pressed up against each other side by side.

‘woah—are you jerking off, dude?’ tommy slurred, swigging from the bottle.

his pupils trained on steve’s right hand which he was currently using to palm himself over his jeans. the denim made it difficult but if steve didn’t get a hand on himself he’d die.

‘shit. y-yeah. guess i kinda am,’ steve cackled and threw his head back, landing on tommy’s shoulder, ‘sorry. i didn’t mean to make it weird. i’ll stop. pretend it didn’t happen.’

shockingly, tommy groaned, crowded into steve’s space and surprised him by moving his free hand onto the stiff clothed line of tommy’s hardened cock.

‘no. ‘s cool. keep going. i’m horny too. ‘s just the alcohol. doesn’t mean anything,’ he’d said as he slipped a hand down steve’s pants and pulled a deep moan out of him, ‘fuck. you’re so wet, man.’

after the initial incident, steve and tommy made quite the habit out of getting drunk together, touching beneath layers of clothing, dry humping each others thighs while they sipped beers and chatted about ‘guy stuff.’

despite continuing this pattern throughout the next few years, tommy never kissed steve. steve never kissed tommy.

eventually, they both got girlfriends, no longer saw eye to eye, and the past became the past. nothing more to it.

so when steve finds that he and eddie munson are in the same predicament years later—it doesn’t occur to him that eddie could ever have real feelings for him.

‘doesn’t mean anything. ‘s just the alcohol,’ tommy said time and again.

he and eddie started to casually drink together. hands began to wander. small touches, nothing serious. steve logically assumed their nights together would fizzle out into something similarly meaningless.

that is until the night of robin buckley’s 22nd birthday.

they’re at a queer nightclub in indy to celebrate. steve, eddie, robin, nancy, jonathan, and argyle.

robin and nancy have somehow convinced steve to wear a skintight black mesh bodysuit that dips low and reveals a thicket of tawny chest hair, a pair of tight black trousers, and smudged eyeliner.

eddie keeps telling him he looks like a rockstar but steve tries not to think too much into it.

eddie, himself, looks undeniably gorgeous.

only intensifying the annoying crush that steve has spent the last six months trying to squash like a bug.

his hair is tousled messily with mousse.

there’s a new tattoo peeking out from beneath his intentionally shredded tee.

steve yearns to lick the fresh ink, to bite along it. he wants to touch it and watch eddie shiver.

needless to say, it only takes a few drinks for steve to loosen up enough under the flashing lights of the club before he’s sauntering over to eddie and giggling his way through asking him to dance.

eddie smirks, sets down his drink of choice, and immediately grips steve by the exposed flesh of his hips.

‘fuck, baby. it’s ‘bout time. i thought you’d never ask,’ eddie growls into his ear and steve has to hold on strong to his belief that it’s ‘just the alcohol talking.’ doesn’t mean a damn thing.

eddie’s just drunk and horny like he and tommy were all those years ago.

except there’s something noticeably different about being drunk with eddie versus being drunk with tommy.

as the bass thumps across the dance floor, eddie turns steve around so they’re pressed like bookends—chest to spine.

his ringed hands confidently traverse every available inch of steve’s skin. focusing heavily on the fuzzy line of his happy trail and toying with his belt like he might just go ahead and undo it at any point. take steve’s cock out and jack him off on the spot.

eddie’s touch is warm and assured. his breath smells like whiskey and cigarettes. his heart drums against steve’s back and matches the beat of his own.

steve really doesn’t mean to but he can’t take it anymore. can’t hold back.

eddie’s so fucking hot and he feels so good and suddenly, steve’s rolling his hips back into eddie’s cock.

closing the small gap that had previously existed between them and grinding down hard.

eddie gasps in his ear, kisses the side of his neck and uses his firm hold on steve’s waist to increase the friction.

‘ohh, stevie. you have no idea how much i want you right now. your tight little ass feels so good on my cock,’ eddie nips at his jaw and steve can’t help but cry out for more.

‘eddie,’ steve breathes his name like a desperate prayer, ‘please, eddie. need you. want you. please. so fucking turned on right now. fuck.’

eddie snakes an arm fully around steve’s waist and tightens in response.

‘gonna give you everything you want, princess. gonna get you off but i need you to trust me.’

eddie ruts against his ass for a few more minutes and sways along to the music.

steve’s cock is leaking all over the inside of his pants and he’s thankful for the dark atmosphere of the club otherwise he’s sure there would be an obvious stain.

eddie presses kisses to his cheeks, tugs at his hair, shoves away anyone who dares get to close to steve or looks at him the wrong way.

steve sighs to himself somberly.

he’s having the time of his life. he feels like he’s on cloud fucking nine but he knows this will all be over once eddie sobers up and realizes he doesn’t want him in the light of day.

‘bathroom. big stall. now,’ eddie orders him and directs steve forwards with a hand at the nape of his neck. likes he’s walking a dog.

eddie wastes no time. they’re still moments away from entering the bathroom and eddie is unbuckling steve’s belt in front of a crowd of dancing bodies.

‘eds!’ steve half heartedly protests, ‘what if someone sees?’

eddie tugs steve’s jeans down to his thighs right beside the busy bar and grabs a fistful of his ass.

‘let them. you’re beautiful, baby. they should count themselves lucky to get a glimpse,’ he purrs and pets a gentle hand over steve’s dripping cock.

he trembles. moans. turns his face to catch eddie’s gaze for the first time since they started dancing and notices the fullness of his lips. the soft plushness that he wants to slot together with his own.

‘i wish i could kiss you,’ he says with a sad smile and reaches up to trace eddie’s cupids bow with his fingers, shuddering at the thought.

‘who says you can’t?’ eddie backs him into the biggest stall, locks the door and presses him against the wall. face to face, ‘you can have the world. i’ll give you anything you want. all you have to do is ask.’

steve’s knows he shouldn’t but—

‘please kiss me, eddie. please.’

and eddie is on him.

‘i’ve got you sweetheart. gonna kiss you ‘til your dizzy.’

eddie cups his jaw, strokes over the rough stubble that grows there. tongues into his mouth and swallows each of steve’s pretty whines.

they kiss ravenously.

they kiss like they’re starving.

they wrap coiled fingers into each other’s hair and eddie pulls his own dick out to fuck his fist while he works away at steve’s bottom lip—sucking it between teeth. steve follows his lead. jerks himself and inhales sharply when the wet tip of his cock bumps into eddie’s.

the act is devotional, feverish, sacred.

steve’s waited his entire life to be worshiped—never before believing he deserved it.

but kissing eddie—

kissing eddie changes everything.

kissing eddie is the holiest sin he’s ever committed.

‘can i—can i touch you?’ steve asks, breaking the kiss and breathing heavy against eddie’s parted lips.

‘fuck yes. of course you can, baby boy,’ eddie moans back at him and guides steve’s trembling hand to wrap around both of their cocks.

steve weakly mewls at the view. his fist barely fits around the two of them because eddie’s so fucking girthy. measuring a good four inches wide.

‘you’re huge,’ steve says in drunken awe, admiring the spurt of pre that slicks its way down eddie’s length, ‘i want you inside me.’

eddie shakes his head, bites his lip, eyes lidded when he kisses the shell of steve’s ear and nibbles.

‘not tonight, princess,’ he fucks up into steve’s fist and catches on the underside of his cockhead, ‘soon. tonight, this is perfect. don’t wanna rush it.’

steve nods agreeably. he adores the rasp of eddie’s voice. thinks he’d do anything for him if he said it just like that.

‘is this—is this good?’ he asks shyly as he rolls his hips up in time with eddie’s and watches them both become wetter and wetter with obvious desire.

‘so good, baby. so fucking good,’ eddie adds his own hand into the mix and wraps around the base where steve’s hand has trouble reaching, ‘you’re gonna make me cum all over your pretty cock. is that what you want? you want my cum to get all sticky between your thighs so you don’t forget our time together tonight?’

‘yes. wanna feel you. wanna be marked by you. please.’

steve’s abdomen flexes with heat and arousal beneath the thin cover of mesh. he removes his own hand to slap the tip of his cock onto eddie’s. they moan simultaneously.

he gets an idea.

‘move your hand,’ he instructs and eddie obeys without question.

steve drags him in by the hips and uses all of his strength to create as much friction as possible between their dicks.

he thrusts and everything is so fucking slippery that he ends up mostly rubbing himself off against eddie’s v-line. but it doesn’t matter because eddie’s mirroring him and they’re shaking and crying out from the sheer force of pleasure.

‘gonna cum,’ eddie groans, ‘gonna cum. gonna cum—‘

‘me too. close,’ steve bites down on eddie’s shoulder to muffle his screams and watches as they spurt ropes of cum all over each others stomachs, clothes, and cocks.

the next morning, steve wakes up in a bed that doesn’t belong to him.

it takes him a minute. it takes putting on his glasses and blinking a handful of times to remember that he’s in the hotel room he booked for robin’s birthday trip.

it takes him a second longer to remember that eddie munson is sharing a bed with him and that the arms wrapped like a swaddle around his middle belong to the tattooed man, himself.

steve slumps down. sighs. eddie must still be asleep.

he must not realize what he’s doing, but when he wakes up he’s going to do exactly what tommy always did and—

‘mmm. morning, sunshine. you smell good.’

steve freezes.

a sleepy kiss is pressed between his shoulder blades and surely eddie’s dreaming because steve’s not someone worth sticking around for and—

‘i was thinking and look,’ eddie yawns and strokes a hand over steve’s stomach which relaxes him instantly, ‘you can say no, but would you—would you want to go on a breakfast date this morning? i know we’re like hungover and kinda gross, but it’s taken me months to be brave enough to officially ask you so what do you say?’

steve smiles. really smiles. for the first time in a long time. rolls over in bed to face eddie and kisses him square on the mouth.

morning breath and all.

‘i’d say—yes. yes, i’d like that very much.’

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @jjoesjonas @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @mcneen @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @neverlandwaitingforme

[trinityofone]

Queer cinema buffs, just wanted to point out something that leapt out to me about OFMD 2x02. The scene where Ed and Izzy talk after Izzy has had his leg amputated is framed and shot in a way that I think deliberately echoes Ben-Hur (1959).

We know Davey Jenkins is a classic cinema fan, and Taika and Con have compared Ed and Izzy to Jesus and Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar. I swear Con referenced Ben-Hur at one point too, though now I can't find a source. But it's a film with infamous gay undertones: Gore Vidal came on board and queered up the relationship between Judah Ben-Hur (Charlton Heston) and his boyhood bestie/rival, Messala (Stephen Boyd) -- Boyd played them as former lovers intentionally, while Heston was, uh, not informed. (Vidal is a huge bitch about Heston in his memoir; recommended.)

Pictured: just bro stuff.

Anyway -- uh, spoilers for Ben-Hur -- in the scene in question, Messala, who has betrayed Judah and gotten him sold into slavery (it's a whole thing), then faces his rival in a chariot race, cheats, and is the source of his own downfall, getting trampled by horses. He is told he needs to have both his legs amputated or he will die, but he refuses and instead confronts his former friend (lover?) one last time.

I wish I could find better caps of this, but the way it's shot -- the dark room, the way the light plays across his face, even the angle of his head -- immediately popped into my head when I saw the parallel scene in OFMD 2x02.

(Gif by @hgedits)

Now of course, Izzy is not the cause of his own predicament to the extent that Messala is; he and Ed have both made the bed he now lies in together. Which is why Izzy gets to get up from his death bed and Messala doesn't.

Maybe, unlike Messala, he'll also be able to escape the Celluloid Closet! *manifesting Izzy Hands gay makeout scene in S2*

Anyway, Ben-Hur is a real good movie, you should watch it.