#all of his monstrosities are a work of art

[dirtyjvconfessions]

I'd love to go bird watching with him sometime :D

.

[redstrewn]

[tarjapearce]

Poppy Blue

Blue Jones! Miguel x Baby Doll! Reader.

Art by @marbipa on x

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Power play, choking kink, rough sex, mentions of abuse, preying, toxic and perverted behavior, implicit clandestine and illegal activities, lobotomy, dissociation, implicit depersonalization, objectification, hate sex, manhandling, violence, sub space. No Proofread.

Summary: Messy things ~ (I guess?) Miguel as Blue Jones from Sucker Punch.

A/N: Watched Sucker Punch last night and... yeah. Had to get this out of my system. ~ Another one for the Miguelverse ~

Masterlist

All it took was a bullet. Aimed at your assailant with no intentions of missing. Yet you did. You missed, failed terribly so. His chest was your goal, instead it went directly to his shoulder.

Projectile ripping and scorching skin, tissue and muscle in the go, earning a shaky and pained yelp. But it was the least he deserved after trying to be sneaky on your sister, that laid cold and bled out in the floor. She was no match for his knife and his blood thirst of the night. The rest was a blur.

And now, you were dragged down to the wet and dull greys walls of your future home. Lennox House. Or rather Lennox Asylum for the Mentally Ill.

Everything about the place screamed danger, everything about the people working in the monstrosity of place yelled I'm no better.

Barefoot, soaked in rain, holding your new uniform and gazing at the biggest man you've seen in you life, holding a bunch of keys while his eyes bore into you.

The way he stared made your skin crawl and it didn't help your clothes clung to your body. Arms braced the uniform closer to your chest, trying to cover it up. His eyes wandered to the man behind you, a police officer with three scratched lines into his face. You hadn't left him unscathed. Not when he tried to play rough with you back at your old home.

The man showed you around, place was as depressing as it was from the outside, but The Theater took the prize.

Girls your age dressed in gray, socializing in the area. And by socializing it'd mean to watch them either receive therapy with a polish beautiful woman named Vera Gorski, or watch them fight over the stupidest things. But who could blame them?

Some probably had enough time inside that had memorized the cracks in the wall, the scratches on the floor, the number of chewed gums underneath the table or how many dust particles were accumulated in the windows. Gray. Everything was gray and dull.

Even the voice of the men behind you talking about a price for your silence were tiresome and dry. Two thousand. That's what your memories were valued as. A number you now hated.

Corrupt pigs

The police officer gave you a gentle push forward as a nurse came to fetch you. The simple touch of that man made your skin revolt and slapped him hard across his wilting face, a scowl on your grimace that slowly turned into a smirk as the police officer tried to catch you, but you were being dragged away by two nurses into a life that would turn your head upside down and backwards, the many times it saw fit until you'd understand that you weren't in charge.

Until you'd understand your purpose.

Dance.

"If you don't dance, you have no purpose."

Madam Gorski murmured to you. Pretty, dangerous and aware of the many many situations revolving in the brothel. Cause in truth, the asylum was just an alibi and a frontage for the real deal. House Lennox. A house of pleasure.

Bets, drinks, sex, meds and a hell of a show to anyone that filled Miguel's pockets.

The main attraction? Girls that society deemed unfit to keep within her picky guts. Too into messy situations to keep the pretense around relatives. Too fucked up to function properly but good enough to mold and shape into something useful, and too tempting to break even further.

She mumbled while circling you, her dark eyes scrutinized you unabashedly, taking in everything her sight could reach. Pursing her pouty lips upon your body.

Pretty, scared, still holding a grip on reality while trying to swallow a really hard to deglute pill, and oh so perfect for a new purpose.

"We do not keep things in here that serve no purpose."

The collide of her cane on the floor was like a metronome, setting the pace to enter a forbidden place, somewhere that none could reach but you. Mind splitting in two, dissociating soul from conscience, leaving an empty, moving vessel behind. You were free for a moment. And now you wanted more, more of that place where your imagination ran rampant.

Where Gorski's words meant nothing, where the guards had no power, where you were allowed to break down and feel without second intentions or being frowned upon. But mainly, without Miguel’s preying gaze licking you raw while undressing your form with it.

But the clapping and praising brought you back to this reality. Red eyes fell upon you, studying, raking over your body upside down, stopping at your thighs to then go back to your flushed and breathless face.

Mr. O'Hara. Miguel 'Blue' O'Hara. The asylum guard, the key bearer, perverted pimp, and your new shadow.

Ever since that dance many things changed.

Even though you danced, duties in the asylum weren't to be neglected. If you said no, you'd get a visit to the hole.

If you didn't dance, you'd get a visit to the hole.

But if you didn't do things Miguel's way, you'd get a personal talk with him, and then a visit to the hole.

And those talks, surely weren't words.

Scrubbing the floors gave you the chance to listen a bit of everything. Girl's derangements, psychotic outbreaks, mumblings that were filled in with regret and many more flourishing emotions; the ever loud music from the cook, and the unceasing mewls and obscene noises coming from Miguel's office.

Some girls misbehaved on purpose, just to get a taste of him. Others did anything to draw his attention to them, specially in the dance floor. But you knew better to anger him.

Sure, pleasure came in hand with a high price. He wasn't good, he wasn't nice nor gentle, matter-of-factly some girls cried during their one on one sessions and the degradation only enhanced the tears.

Sick fuck.

Gorski's alarms flared up upon seeing belt marks on their legs and ass, bites in their inner thighs and bruises on their hips. Eyes a bit too gone and tired to actually work in anything. They might have spread the gossip around of Miguel fucking them, and even enjoyed it.

But the aftermath of it, said otherwise. And it was enough to keep you on check, but even so he was pulled to you like a magnet so strong you could see the refrain in his eyes every time he approached you.

Hands shaky, tongue rubbing and wetting his plump lips, a soft flush on his cheeks and pleading eyes. A silent 'Let me play too' cause he wasn't allowed to touch, or taste you. Instead, he'd use the girls willing to please him to take his anger out. Their bodies meant nothing, they meant nothing cause they weren't you.

They didn't have your body, they didn't have your sweet voice that distorted into moans and gasps that he'd kill to induce every time you danced, but above all, they didn't have your spark.

That little interaction with the police when you first arrived, had him folding on a bathroom, stroking himself to oblivion at the mere sound of your slaps.

Unbeknownst to you, you held so much power over him. Power he was set to dull, because he was the only one in control. Not even Gorski and her stupid polish methods to get in the rest's head. He ran the place and had it under control.

For how long though?

You wanted out. His little Poppy wanted out and surely would get everything to be free and leave him, forsake him in this damned place.

Anger flowed within his veins like molten lava upon remembering how other men looked at you, how other men wanted you. They'd possibly been imagining how good and tight your insides would feel cause the way you moved when you were up in the stage, was surreal. It was like another person took over.

But he, a sick fuck through and through, would want both. No. He'd have both. He craved and needed both, even better when you were dressed in such things that only added more dry bones to his needy fire.

Fucking lucky of them to feel you and be a your second skin. Even that stupid and everything but innocent uniform you were to dress every day, stirring up enough to let him take a peek of your panties, or the stockings underneath that remained etched on your supple thighs he'd often fantasize in getting lost between.

He just had to wait for you to misbehave. But sadly you didn't seem keen into breaking the rules. He'd wait.

---

"Stormy, come."

Vera called another girl. Whoever gave their names either knew them too well or picked random words in a go. Gorski too engrossed into her lessons to notice you had been dragged away by other guards under Miguel's petition.

Had you forgotten about something? No. Surely not. Last week's chores were fulfilled completely, the bathrooms were clean, the kitchen's dishes turn were washed up, and so were the floors. Your wrists sore, a reminder to ask for a new brush.

And-

Shit.

Fuck.

The laundry.

Some dancers had ran out of stockings, lingerie, and some sheets from the brothel needed to be replaced ASAP.

But you, Poppy, as Vera had called you and it stuck with the rest ever since, had trouble. Just cause you had forgotten about the damn laundry.

Miguel's formidable frame came into view, he was on a call, lying on how well someone's daughter was doing after a lobotomy. How they didn't have to worry about her anymore.

Your stomach felt sick and your heart leaped on your chest once he ended up the call. The guards had been long gone, leaving you with your shadow alone.

If honest, you knew Miguel either followed or kept you watched under hawk's eyes. Time stopped as soon as he turned to face you.

Pupils wide blown as soon as you came into his sight.

"My sweet, sweet Poppy."

He inhaled deeply and clasped his hands together before his face. An uncontainable smirk morphed into a light titter.

"You've been a bad girl, princesa."

His hands slamming on the table before him made you jolt and blink at his sudden mood shift.

"We..." He wetted his lips as he came behind you, "We were counting on you, Mi cielo. But... you failed us. Failed me."

A gulp as his breath fanned over the crook of your neck.

"You see..." His big and long fingers brushing your hair away from the right side of your head joint, "Now I gotta improvise something for the next show. "

"I'm sorry, I forgot-"

His hand took a hold of your neck and the contact made him growl. Warm, smooth, feeling every heartbeat underneath his big and calloused palms.

Lips dangerously close to your ear, breathing and panting as he pulled you closer to him, your back colliding against his torso and abdomen.

"Shh"

He hushed while taking a big whiff off you. A mix of soap, perfume and cigarettes. His hand squeezed tighter, earning a lovely and sweet yelp from you as he pushed you against his desk.

Your eyes widened in surprise upon feeling the hardening cock in between the slot of your thighs, poking, begging to be released and finally take you.

"You remind me of someone. Too bad she lost her spark."

His hand riled the skirt of your uniform up, passing up some layers of extra clothing, your underwear and stockings. Hand plunged inside to finally allowing his fingers to have a sample of your flesh.

"But I'm keeping yours alight, sweetheart."

His cock twitched when he found your clit. Fingers dexterous and peeling the outer folds away to give a gentle rub before you closed your legs almost instantly. A little delaid reaction, your brain was still processing it.

You went completely still when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. He sucked them off with hunger, groaning and trembling at the taste.

"Por Dios, preciosa..."

You tried to pry his hand out of your neck but the struggle made his breathings more labored and needy as he humped and ground against you from behind. Letting his tip to speak volumes at how hard and wanton he was. How bad you made him react. How much power you had over him.

Of course.

The idea of having him subdued to you assaulted your mind. Pressuring you into pleading, just like your clit that clenched and twitched upon having his tip rubbing in a slow yet firm strokes.

His hands went back inside your panties, searching for the nub of nerves that had you melting. Tongue skimming at the tender skin of your neck.

Just as he was about to bury a finger knuckle deep, the ever annoying voice of Vera urging Miguel from outside the door, asking for you. Her dear and lovely Poppy.

"Chingada madre" (Fucking shit)

He sighed with an exasperated growl and looked at the door.

"The fuck you want?!"

"I need Poppy on the practice. Now."

Where was the shocking baton when he needed it the most?

For once, you were relieved to know that you didn't go unnoticed under Gorski's watch. She protected the girls in her own way.

Knees trembled as he kept the hand inside. A little miscalculation had you whimpering while his fingers remained trapped in your flesh. His eyes snapped back on you with a smirk.

A hand clasped on top of your mouth, suffocating any moans as he worked his fingers between your pussy. Touching and prodding at the forbidden flesh, a moan vibrated through his hand with a high pitched Hmm

"I'll get her to you right away!"

Miguel yelled while working his fingers harder and faster, alternating between rubbing and fucking your hole with them.

"Spread your legs wider, pretty baby" The husk of his voice made you close your eyes and hips hump ever shyly at his hands. Gaining as much friction as possible.

"Miguel, I need her now."

He grumbled under his breath while moving his hands faster. The wet smooch and sucking squelch had him humping against your panties, breaths agitated, muttering something you could only decipher as filth in spanish, your hands clenched onto him, tightly fisted on his clothes.

Just a bit more

He heard Vera cursing in her native tongue as he prodded his fingers inside, toying with your opening. Stretching and fucking it at his likings.

"You fucking little slut"

He tittered while rubbing furiously in your clit. A bit too rough that had you bucking and trembling in his arms. If his hands made you quiver and melt he couldn't wait to see what his cock could do. You drenched his fingers.

Said fingers were cleaned up again by his mouth with a droopy and pleasure drunk face.

Despite having your legs shaky, he held you by the hips, and forced you to grab onto his desk. His hands quickly fumbled with his pants and boxers, pulling his cock out.

He stroked a couple of times, tip susceptible to stimulation. He pulled the panties aside, your stockings the only barrier between you and his erection. The flimsy layer of clothes instantly adhered to your soaked skin, He pushed in between your thighs, rubbing his cock back and forth with slow thrust against your pussy. His hot length brushed against the already engorged and sensitive nub.

The tightness of your warm thighs smooshed together created the perfect friction hole for him without actually penetrating you. So close and yet so far of that forbidden territory. Soft mewls and whimpers came out your mouth, too enraptured in feeling than verbalizing your pleasure.

He also needed his toys. Specially his favorite. Stockings were thoroughly soaked the more he pushed his cock in and out. Labia clothed and slicked parted to feel his shallow moves. He used you as his fleshlight, his hips smacking yours. His chest rumbled with animalistic and low growls.

His hands were clumsy as the pleasure turned overwhelming, you could see the flushed tip of him peeking out your thighs, the urge of tasting him turned bigger the faster he went. You were trying so hard to keep it as quiet as possible.

"Wished I was inside you, don't you?"

You gasped as he purposely angled his tip in your dripping hole. A shivering breath was all he received.

He took you by your chin and squeezed

"Don't you?!"

"Y-Yes!"

"Yes, what?!"

"Yes, sir."

Jesus fucking Christ.

He pushed in deeper in your cunt, his cock pushed a bit of the stockings inside as he doused it with his cum, unable to hold back any longer, marking you.

You had never heard a man pant and wheeze like that before. So deep, raspy, needy, cradling you tighter, anchoring to you as he shook his orgasm out.

"Fuck- Ay Dios, fuckfuck-"

He slurred while engulfing your frame against the table. Breathings matching his erratic ones.

Your skin between supple thighs felt clammy and sticky. Black stockings ruined completely by the white and wet patch of his scent.

Hot breath fanned over your neck.

"Can't wait to feel the real de-"

The door banged.

"Boss! We need you!"

The guards and Vera had proposed to fuck around with him cause his patience had been tested many times.

Your steps marching away from him snapped him out of his thoughts, He blinked and held you by the wrist, pulling you once more to him to kiss you.

Your first kiss in years. Soft but needy and filled in with a promise to fulfill later.

Now that he had a taste, there was none to stop him. He'd take his favorite toy and go home.

----

Freedom was taken away from you, right before your eyes. Forsaken by your so called friends, marooned by the crew you had gathered within the depths of despair. Your hope had given them a chance at surviving, your courage had transformed you into a fucked up sisterhood, but it was their greed that made you the ultimate sacrifice to their success.

You could only watch while thrashing your way out, but the more you fought, the more guards came to you, but one in particular pulled you out of the mess like a feather. But you didn't stop fighting. Not even when your tabs were in absolute zero probabilities of winning, not when Miguel dragged you inside manhandling your crying form like a ragdoll.

Scratches, fists and other punches didn't move him in the slightest. His grip tightened once you both were locked up in his office once more. He tossed you on the floor.

"Why... Why did you want to leave?"

His tone menacing yet hurt.

The idea of you almost slipping away from him had sent him in a berserk mode that unleashed hellbent through the asylum. Just to find you and when he did, he wanted nothing but hurt you, just the way you've hurt him.

Wasn't his attention enough? , wasn't him being lenient on you and your chores enough? Wasn't he enough?

"WHY?!"

You were too dumbfounded to process his question. Too marked with shame at your failure and rage to pay him attention, and that alone sent him grabbing you by the neck and crash you against a vanity. Tossing everything above it to the floor.

Your back collided against the now shattered mirror, you yelped but still managed to slap him and that made him groan and nod frantically.

Yes

One of his hands was more than enough to hold your both arms as he positioned between your thighs, pressing further against you.

"You don't like me, Poppy? Why?"

"Let me go!"

His hand squeezed your neck tightly, cutting all air for a minute while he kissed you. Sloppy, angry and so full with lust and rage. It gave you no time to react while his other hand tore the panties from underneath your skirt.

You kept slapping him, but that only enticed him to spread you further

"Love that fucking spark on you, preciosa."

He then thrashed you against the table sending a painful jolt through your body, It made you still for a moment.

"No! No! Don't-" his eyes widened in panic, "Don't lose it. Please-"

"No" You panted, "Just found it" A flower vase was smashed in his forehead. And that granted you freedom from his hands as you fell on the floor, gasping for air and crawling away from him.

Heavy steps echoed, trailing dangerously after you. Miguel took you by the ankle and dragged you towards him.

"No!"

He hissed and pulled you upwards, like a statuette, and slammed your torso against the desk you had been clenching onto. All air knocked out your lungs.

A hand passed over his buckle and removed in a swift motion his belt in one go. The sight of your pussy peeking underneath the ruffles of your skirt made a smile that didn't reach his eyes to appear.

He quickly got the belt around your neck, your hands instantly pried, or at least tried to pry it away, scratching yourself in the process. The smell of copper filled in the air, the vase had broke the skin of his forehead.

"You fucking ungrateful bitch!"

He secured the belt tighter and you wheezed, hands flailed to get a hold of him. Fingers already prodding and toying with your cunt, to his surprise, the struggle and fight turned you on, knowing that a man wanted you so badly that would do anything to have you, and you denying such power had you soaked.

Specially when the man in question was this 6'9" cell guard that wanted nothing but to wreck you, destroy you the way you had destroyed his fucked up illusions.

"All I did for you, everything I did meant shit for you-"

He rasped before slapping your butt with such force it stung and left a red imprint on the now reddening flesh.

"I didn't... a-ask you for shit!"

He grunted at your broken words as he pulled the makeshift leash backwards, separated your legs and pulled out his cock once more.

"There we go, baby"

"Y-You're so pathetic-"

Words died in your throat as he slid inch by inch inside. The intrusion made you sob a feeble whimper, it burned and hurt, but in a way you weren't expecting and you liked it.

"Me? Pathetic? Ay muñeca, is not me whose gonna beg me to stop" He pulled your face towards him and kissed you once more, "You won't even remember your name once I'm done with you."

He buried to the hilt as he watched your expression. Troubled yet blissful. A little grip was loosened as he felt you were about to speak again.

"You talk too much shit-."

Part of you regretted said words, cause he smashed your head in the desk and dug his fingers around your hips.

"Is that so?"

Nothing had you prepared for the assailing onslaught of his hips. Fucking was a measly word compared to what he actually was doing to your poor and snug cunt.

It wasn't slapping, his hips thwacked yours with such force you were sure your cervix would be bruised and your legs wouldn't walk properly for the next few days, but as it hurt, it felt good. Too good for your own comfort. Specially when propped a leg ontop of a stool for more leverage to ruin you deeper.

A garbled moan came out your lips, before gritting your teeth together and shaking your head vehemently. He laughed in between deep growls and moans.

"Am I dulling that spark, muñeca?"

Your body lurched forwards, pussy drenched him with every remorseless push he delivered. Eyes struggling to keep on the front, but it was unavoidable to have them rolling back as your jaw slacked open.

High pitched wails rumbled out of your gaping mouth, permeating the once silent room. Two of his fingers slid in your mouth, hot breath colliding against them. They hooked forcing your mouth to keep open.

The desk shook under your weight, the room filled in with moans so sweet and delicious, unlike the many that had been under him.

You were experiencing first hand the danger. Miguel wasn't nice, he wasn't gentle. The latter made an emphasis on its own as he pulled the belt impossibly tighter. A gurgling and rasping noise came from your throat. He wasn't squeezing anymore, he was choking you.

And Dios mio, you were sure you'd die. But dying sounded way too much of a reward than staying in this awful place.

"Yes"

You hissed in between butchered pants and wheezing mewls. Mind set in welcoming the reaper as air was still cut out of your lungs. Legs too weak to keep on their own. Dizziness fogging your mind, fire engulfing your body, Your cunt slurped him in, wetness no longer an issue since he slid and out so easily.

The only indicator you still had consciousness was the little pathetic cries you did as his hips plowed you with a new intensity you didn't know possible.

He had been whispering the filthiest things into your ear, a couple of degrading words you couldn't quite hear, too busy being cock drunk and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Your torso and arms laid in between his arms and the desk, his upper body keeping you still as his hips did the whole assault. His face too snatched in a myriad of things.

Pride cause he finally got to have you and proved you wrong, lust cause you felt just like he had imagined, anger because of your previous words. He was the one that was rawing you into oblivion, had your brain turned upside down, not Gorski, and had you cumming with such an intensity it was overwhelming and too much for your brain to digest.

Too much.

The choking had your brain's fuse in a shortcut, shutting itself off for what it felt like forever, until he spilled himself inside. Renovating your walls white.

Hot cum spurted and not a single drop was wasted as he made sure you kept it inside.

His hulking figure trembled, torn in between subtle and violent spasms that shook him to his very core and raged pants that sent a shiver down your sore spine.

He finally had you and you were his. He wasn't letting you go. Not when he was about to give you a new purpose.

Being his.

---

Everything that he thought good and right blurred. Eyes filled in with tears at your state. Gone. Gone from this world, gone from him, the spark had vanished.

No

How this happened?

His mind raked through the memories, trying to find the right moment everything went to shit.

He signed a paper. A lobotomy authorization in your behalf.

No!, no!.

"Come back" He pleaded while kissing you and squeezing his hands on the joint of your head and shoulders, to pry something out of you. But nothing came.

The spark had been lost.

And so were you.

"Please, muñeca"

He sobbed and cradled you in his arms, but there was no push, no retaliation, nothing. Only a lovely vessel of his love.

You were gone. For real.

He had been so naive to believe that fucking you senseless meant to have you. He had been such a fool to fall for such a simple thing as that.

And now he had lost you. His own hand brought his demise. Guards and Gorski dragged him out, his hand latched on to you, but even your skin felt different.

"Poppy!"

He yelled but you didn't answer. Just watched him with a look that shattered his heart.

You were free. Free and far far away.

[thefanficmonster]

Beautiful Things

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS for Bridgerton S3 part 1, Minor Period-typical sexism

Genre: Romance, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff

Summary: They're both brilliant, and brilliantly stubborn. What a pair they'd make.

Benedict tends to thread through life without as much as a worried crease on his features. There are very few matters he doesn't take to lightheartedly. That being said, it came as quite the surprise the sharp current of uncertainty that ran down his spine when he found himself standing in front of the monstrosity of a building that is the Royal Academy of Arts on his first day in attendance.

It took him and his charm less than a week to woo and work his way through the crowd of ambitious up-and-coming artists. He's always been an easy person to converse and unwind with. That aura around him naturally draws people to him like a magnet. It is a miracle the man hasn't been hunted down by a debutant already.

Not for a lack of trying, of course. The young ladies of the ton, especially the ones who have been freshy introduced into society have had their sights set on him since he himself made his way into the rhythm of the ton.

Nothing's ever fulfilled him, though.

Being the child of a marriage filled with love that has extended long past the death of his late father, he holds love to a high standard. A standard no one has even come close to reaching.

Watching his siblings find that very sort of love his parents had is a bittersweet sight to observe. It leaves him filled with joy on the behalf of his beloved siblings and it gives him a sense of hope that eventually he too might find what they managed to obtain - not without obstacles, though.

On the other edge of the sword, however, is the never ceasing worry that the problem might be his. That his lack of seriousness bordering into blatant avoidance of the ladies of the ton is to blame for his unmarried status. Perhaps it may be his overly romanticized view of love which he'd like to believe isn't the case. He's seen love of that caliber blossom time and time again in his own home. There's no reason to believe that his turn won't eventually come.

That his standard won't eventually be reached.

Speaking of standards on a lighter note, this painting he's currently standing in front of is disappointing even his lowest requirements for a decent painting.

It is absolutely atrocious, he voices his distaste only briefly and only mentally, never one to voice such critique unless it is cushioned by a smile and a quick-to-follow lighthearted remark.

"It is absolutely atrocious." There is a sharp edge to the voice that does opt to voice the very same thought out loud with far less regard for the negative attention it might garner.

Turning his head to the side, Benedict can't help the smile that immediately tugs at the corners of his mouth.

There, a mere meter from him, stands the ever so cutthroat, no-nonsense, ambitious beast of a woman that is Miss Y/N L/N. A smile rarely grazes her features, her eyes are always icy with an emotion bordering into boredom and a stature that screams authority.

And bloody hell does Benedict enjoy himself in her company.

She is the only student in The Academy he hasn't yet swayed, nor does he believe that he ever will. There are too many walls around her for him to even attempt to start breaking them down. He believes he'll sooner die of old age than succeed in reaching whatever human emotions she might exhibit around people she doesn't dislike.

When it comes to expressing distaste, however, she's not at all hesitant to share it.

"Oh, show the piece some mercy, Miss L/N. It deserves the grace of at least a spec of your kindness." Apart from perfecting his art, one of Benedict's favorite hobbies these past seven months would most certainly be pulling on Y/N's strings. Although it hasn't helped him form anything close to a friendship with her, it has aided him on the mission to get to know her better despite her being a sealed envelope of a person.

"I unfortunately do not possess plenty of it, therefore I can not be generous with it." She barely spares him a look as she speaks. That has been the case for half a year with no progress.

Still, he's willing to weld at the wax until he can pluck and read the letter inside. It is, after all, the bare minimum. He'd at the very least like to make her time at The Academy slightly more enjoyable. Being the only woman in the arts department, she's been rather ostracized which is typically the best case scenario. On the far worse end of the spectrum are the manner-less and, quite frankly, brainless 'gentlemen' who vary from not being able to keep it in their trousers to putting down her and her art which far surpasses their own.

If only they had that aforementioned missing brain intact, they'd see they're not even a quarter of the artist Y/N is.

That is one of the few things Benedict does not shy away from proclaiming with his whole chest. Although well aware that Miss L/N can handle herself gracefully and sharply as always, he never misses an opportunity to put the filthy men in The Academy in their place.

"I believe you possess far more kindness than you let on. Though, I understand completely why you'd rather not show it. None of these lovely gentlemen are deserving of it." The inflection of his tone on those two specific words wins him a scoff from her tightly pressed together lips.

A small win. Baby steps.

"I hope you are factoring yourself in when you use general terms of such sort. I have no evidence you are any better than them." She says, subtly motioning to the crowd of self-titled art experts around the venue where their final works have been displayed for renowned artists to come and rate in precisely half an hour.

Benedict had recognized her painting the second he stepped foot in the ballroom like gallery of The Academy. Needless to say, it put the rest to shame. Even his own, he has no problem admitting that. The emotions relayed in the painting, each brushstroke, every color, every line - they pulled him in the second he laid eyes on it.

And no, he most certainly is not biased. He's a very objective man when it comes to art. It might be considered a conflict of interest, though, because to him she is art.

"Believe me, my lady, I would hate nothing more than to boast myself but I still do believe I stand out from this pleasant crowd. For, as I was told, mine was the only painting you gave a stellar review for."

Professor Hedingale, although a man in his late fifties with a rather intimidating exterior and a permanent frown etched into his forehead, is a major gossip. He has taken a great favor to Benedict for his warm nature and shared love of observing drama as it unfolds. That being said, it took him a total of three seconds before he informed his student of Miss L/N's surprising review. She had not given the other paintings as much as a second glance, opting to say nothing rather than tarnish them the way they honestly deserved.

Had he not been paying such close attention to each line of her face, he could've missed it. Luckily for him, he did not. That brief fleeting moment of surprise widening Y/N's did not manage to go by unnoticed.

"I have a very high standard for beauty and would never stoop so low as to give a biased and unjust review. If I find something abhorrent, I say so. If I find something beautiful, I'd never not compliment it the way it deserves." Benedict almost flinches when she turns to face him, establishing intense and quite entrancing eye contact. "I am not mean, Bridgerton. I am simply honest."

Words burn dry on his tongue, his breath dissipating in his lungs. Had she still not been facing him, he could have come up with a timely response. But something about her gaze being so focused on him has turned his brain to a pile of pebbles. Not a single thought is passing through his head other than a fact he's long established. In fact, he came to learn it the very first at The Academy. Every day since it has only been confirmed time and time again.

She's absolutely enamoring.

The moment dissolves with the loud bang of the grand doors to the gallery being pulled open, allowing in the crowd of world renowned artists that now hold the students' futures in their gloved hands.

Benedict is not surprised by the fact that all these critical artists are men. He's grateful no artist's name has been listed by the displayed paintings, otherwise Y/N would have no chance at winning their favor. Not objectively anyway. At least one would have undermined her because, although talented artists, that doesn't exclude them from being close-minded fools. And at least one would try to butter her up for a potential courtship.

Yeah, that's not happening

Upon getting a better look, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by a head of long blonde hair, undoubtedly belonging to a woman. A woman whose work he's become very familiar with knowing Y/N is quite an admirer of hers.

"Eleanor Easton." The name comes out almost breathlessly, barely getting past Y/N's lips.

Turning his attention back to her, he's rather shocked to see what the nerves have done to her. She's shaking like a leaf, all the confidence she typically exhibits has drained from her body into a puddle on the tiled floor.

"You should go talk to her, express your admiration for her work." It is more an attempt at vexing her than a suggestion but it's in no way bad advice. Even though Lady Eleanor doesn't look like she'd take kindly to the gesture, it would be a noble attempt.

"Are you mad?!" Y/N whisper-yells, her eyes wide in panic as she spreads open the hand-held fan she's carrying to provide a soft breeze to her extremely heated face. "I could never possibly do such a thing!"

"Why could you not? It w....oh, she's looking right at us....." Benedict has barely finished his sentence before he feels a gust of wind rush past him in a blur of sparkling fabric, lace and silk.

For a solid second or two, he's torn on what to do. Although his initial intention was to vex her, he's now worried she might actually be dissolving in a nervous frenzy and he can't let her tarnish months of work because of some jitters. He too would be a wreck of similar caliber if any of the artists he idolizes were to show up and he too would prefer someone snap him out of it.

So, he follows her out the wooden doors that lead to a maze of intertwined halls, the walls of which are immaculately hand painted. For a moment, he panics, worried he won't be able to find her on time in the chaos of intertwining hallways and painting rooms. But then, he remembers that he indeed knows her better than he thought.

He finds her exactly where he thought he would - standing in front of the wall painting he often finds her looking at in awe. She's never explicitly stated so, but he knows it's her favorite.

To say Y/N is not happy when she spots him would be an understatement, "Oh. for heaven's sake, can I not get a moment without you pestering me?"

He takes her words with an eye roll, "No. I am bringing you back in that gallery. You are going to stand tall and remain collected when they announce your painting to be the equivalent of the Diamond of the season. Do you understand?" He surprises himself with the tone of seriousness his voice has taken on.

See? He can be serious when he wants to be.

She lets out a frustrated sigh, vigorously waving the red fan in her hand in a pointless attempt to collect herself, "Bridgerton..." She closes her eyes for a second as to not spit everything she'd very much like to say. Still, she is a lady, though. "I am asking you to leave my sight in the next five seconds, for you are getting on my nerves."

With two long strides, Benedict minimizes the distance between them, passing the social boundary for respectful space and bordering onto a scandal if someone were to see them. He doesn't care, though. Most romances he's witnessed, if not all, began with a scandal.

Now it's his turn.

"Oh, is that so? Am I getting on your nerves, Y/N?"

"You're getting on my nerves, Benedict-" Her words come to a sharp end when he swipes the fan from her hand, halting the consistent motion. That seems to have been her last straw of composure, seeing as how the hand that formerly held said fan is now clenched in a tight fist and her eyes are squeezing shut. "You pesky, vex...-"

How rude of Benedict to interrupt the lady yet again, is it not? This time he does so by busying her lips with his own. He braced himself for a potential slap on the cheek before even leaning in but the impact never comes.

What he did not prepare himself for was her rather welcoming response, allowing herself to momentarily forget everything else and melt into the rhythm of the kiss. Melt into him. Her arms instinctively wrap around his neck while his hold her waist, fearful of her dissipating like a dream before his eyes.

It pains him that he has to end a moment of such culmination. A moment that the seven months they've known each other inevitably led to. However, they can always pick up this conversation later. For now, Y/N has credits to earn and a painting to be prized.

So, against his instincts, he pulls away.

"This isn't over." He says, his lungs catching up on minutes worth of air they didn't properly receive, "But for now, we have other matters at hand." With a tilt of his head, he motions down the hall - a clear insinuation.

With a similarly disappointed expression and an even more disappointed sigh, Y/N brings herself to nod. She reaches out to retrieve the fan from him which gives him the opportunity to sneak one more quick kiss just as a door opens further down the hall, rudely tearing them apart from one another.

Smacking him lightly with her fan, Miss L/N can't suppress the laugh that Benedict's smug prideful expression provoked from her. She accepts the arm he's offered her and allows him to lead her back the way they came from.

"What you said about beauty and how it should never go uncomplimented..."

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say you're ravishing."

Another laugh breaks the illusion of her icy demeanor, "Why, thank you, Mister Bridgerton. Your painting was quite easy on the eyes as well. Professor Hedingale did not lie. I must say I'm impressed."

"Although I will accept the compliment, I'll have you know there's plenty you are yet to see. This is nothing. Prepare yourself to be truly impressed."

Giving his arm a subtle squeeze, she flashes him one last smile before they enter the gallery once more, "Doubtful."

That's the thing about rivalry, dear reader, it brings out the good, the bad and the beautiful.

The rest is best kept behind a close door, if you know what this author is alluding to.

[irradiated-imp]

First post in a while. I have since made many things, but for now have my Godzilla work. The First King of the Monsters, The original Godzilla. He first rose from the depths in 1954. He suffered great pain from the nuclear bomb testing's in Bikini Atoll. He took his pain and wrath out on the people of Japan, or any unfortunate neough to find themselves at sea in his territory. He terrorized Japan for years, occasionally battling off other gargantuan monstrosities in his time, before his inevitable demise. He was killed by the Oxygen Destroyer, a super weapon created by the late doctor Daisuke Serizawa, who took his own life after destroying his work on the Oxygen destroyer to keep it from being recreated.

The Second King of the Monsters, Godzilla Though Godzilla perished in the 70's with the first and only ever use of the Oxygen Destroyer, his offspring survived. Godzilla Sr.'s offspring, simply called Godzilla during his time, had taken to his mutations much more easily than his father. Though he was born in his current form, and his body had adapted to its current form so he lived without pain, he knew the ones responsible for leaving him alone, without his father. In 1985, this Godzilla surfaced to unleash his own fury on Japan. Tho he was still destructive, after a few years he settled into life on Infant Island, and only came to Japan when he felt his territory was endangered. He died when his internal nuclear reactor had a melt down, irradiating all of Infant Island.

The Prince of the Monsters, Godzilla Junior The current Godzilla, and son of the previous. It's unknown where he, or his father, came from, but his presence on Infant Island was known prior to Godzilla's death. The radiation from his Father's death empowered him, allowing him to grow into a more powerful form. Jr. is notably more agile and faster than his father and grandfather were, having adapted perfectly to his new form. His atomic breath is also considerably more powerful than both of his predecessors. Unlike his family, Jr. never grew to hate humanity. Though he does not go out of his way for the express purpose of saving man kind, he doesn't actively seek its destruction.

The Golden Demise, King Ghidorah. A three headed alien from an unknown planet. He ofund his way to the Solar System landing on Venus. He eradicated all life on the planet, draining the energy from all of the beings on the planet, before moving on to the next planet, Earth. King Ghidorah however did not expect the planet to be crawling with other, equally large, equally deadly monsters, and often found himself unable to drain the life from Earth. Most often he would face either Mothra or Godzilla, the pair eventually forcing him to flee back into space, before Godzilla's death. Once he has absorbed enough energy, he plans to return to Earth and finally wipe out all life on the Planet.

Multi-Puprose Fighting System 3, Mecha Godzilla With the ever rising presence of giant monsters across the world, the people of Earth came together with a plan to deal with them. The UN formed the AMF, Anti Megalosaurus Force. This military force was made to combat any and all giant monsters that appear, when they appear. The AMF, using state of the art tech, advanced computers, and the bones of the original Godzilla as a base to work off of, created the Multi-Purpose fighting System 3, or Mecha Godzilla. It is piloted by a single person remotely. Mecha Godzilla comes with numerous armaments. On its right arm is a pair of rail guns. The base structure of the rail guns can also extend an electrically charged blade. The left arm comes equipped with the most powerful Maser Cannon ever built. Mounted on either shoulder is a more recently created weapon, high power twin plasma cannons, designed with the purpose of burning through hardened shells. Finally, the most powerful of Mecha Godzilla's abilities is dubbed the Proton Scream, a beam fired from the mouth with enough power put into it to slice many monsters clean in half. This ability is rarely used due to the amount of power it consumes. Though the machine has no life nor will of it's own, many of maintenance crew believe it to be haunted, often making reports of it moving, or activating on its own. One particular report from an engineer claims that Mecha Godzilla came online and watched the Engineer as they worked. These reports are unsubstantiated and assumed to be untrue.

Type 1 Maser Tank The original Maser Tanks invented in the late 60's to deter Godzilla Senior prior to his death. The technology has improved considerably since then, with modern Maser Tanks having a minimum power output nearly double the maximum of the Type 1's.

Size comp of Mecha-G, Ghidorah, Sr., Goji, and Jr.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Never Gonna Be Alone [part 1]

Summary: A collection of small moments that lead to falling in love with your roommate. This is a Modern Day!AU.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Author's Note: I've been writing two horribly depressing stories simultaneously for a while now and I needed a break from the angst. I hope that you all enjoy this.

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, pining, fluff, possible angst, and possible sexual content. Plus, me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

She said, "he's kind of messy in every aspect of his life, but he's fun to be around!" Then, she very positively followed that up with, "I think you two would really get along!"

You met Helaena in college, and to be honest, you really didn't know her that well. She was a friend of a friend who had been in a few of the same classes as you, went to the same bars, and had a similar taste in art and music. She'd like every selfie, or ask to borrow a book you posted about, but you had never really hung out alone together.

So when your phone started ringing on a Friday night, after you were already three margaritas deep and swimming in queso dip at your cousin's birthday party, and it was Helaena Targaryen's name flashing across the screen, you were admittedly concerned; though, you'd always known her to be a pretty sincere person, so you took her word for it when she said that you should let her older brother move into the empty, second bedroom of your apartment. It might have been the tequila, or the fact that you were just that desperate, but you immediately agreed to her proposition without question.

You had been trying to rent the room out for months when it became impossible to afford the luxury of living alone, but every person that was interested happened to fall through for one reason or another. You had even offered a discounted rate (as the bedroom was smaller than yours and there was only one bathroom and it was a Jack-and-Jill), but you still couldn't find a good fit.

Enter Aegon Targaryen.

Suddenly, a guy whom you could only describe as 'that has to be Helaena's brother', was knocking on your door a week later. There was beat up Wrangler sitting on the curb behind him filled to the roof with cardboard boxes, and a tiny U-Haul hitched to the bumper with what little bit of furniture he had. He looked at you, blinked a few times and said, "I'm Aegon." You introduced yourself and he nodded; there were no pleasantries, no hand shakes or smiles. He just walked into your apartment, looked around, and then started moving his things in.

It was mid-July, so obviously there were better things you could be doing with your time than helping a complete stranger move his things into your home during a drought and a heat wave. Yet, you slid on your sandals and got to work after you had started to feel bad that you were sitting pretty in the air conditioning while your new roommate struggled alone in the humidity.

It didn't take long until the only thing left was his mattress. You weren't even sure how he got that monstrosity stuffed into the tiny trailer in the first place. It was ridiculously bulky and much heavier than it needed to be, but he swore that it was the most comfortable mattress you'd ever lay on in your life- a fact that you would just have to take his word for. You struggled, a lot, but put on a brave face as Aegon did most of the heavy lifting in the back and you navigated up front.

As you were coming up the porch steps with your sunglasses sliding off of your face as you dripped with sweat, and your arms tired from hours of heavy lifting (saving the heaviest for last, which was a terrible idea), you ended up missing the stoop completely and landing on your ankle awkwardly. You played it off until you had gotten the mattress onto his bed frame, and then silently cried about it in your now shared bathroom; quietly cursing the economy for forcing this situation upon you. Later that night as you were sitting on the couch, with your swollen ankle elevated on a couple of throw pillows, your new roommate tosses a bag of frozen peas in your lap and continues into his room with a bowl of cereal for dinner.

"Thanks," you called after him but only heard the sound of his bedroom door closing in reply.

Over the next few weeks you observed quite a bit about Aegon Targaryen. You knew which spoon was his favorite, how he preferred his tea, that he washed his hair with tea tree shampoo, and enjoyed mint chocolate chip ice cream. He cut the crust off of his sandwiches when he ate them at home, but when he packed his lunch he left them on. He could drink an entire box of wine by himself, but he typically stopped after two glasses, and he always asked if you wanted him to pour you one. He talked to his siblings a lot, but never his parents, and he really enjoyed watching dog videos on his phone while sitting on the couch as you tried to watch your show.

And when he laughed, he belly laughed, and you couldn't help but smile softly to yourself when he did.

Despite how taciturn he may have been, he was still good company, even if you were just sitting on opposite ends of the sofa doing your own thing. He always thanked you when you would leave leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note that had his name on it, and you started making sure that you made enough for two. When he came home late on the weekends, he tried his absolute hardest to do so quietly, but with those hardwood floors, it was almost impossible. He'd wake you up every single time, but you would never say anything. It was hardly an inconvenience after the many nights you'd fall asleep to the sound of him softly strumming his guitar in the next room.

And yet, you just couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it had to, right? Surely this would be a nightmare; God finally sending a punishment for your sins and giving him the face of a literal angel for shits and giggles. You weren't entirely convinced he wasn't Karma-In-Disguise, as the only other option was just too good to be true. It just couldn’t be that you agreed to live with someone you had previously never met simply because someone that you really didn’t know said you should and by some miracle it actually worked out? 

Absolutely not.

You were not that lucky. 

One morning you woke to find Aegon in the kitchen, standing at the counter, making himself a cup of tea. He had already brewed a pot of coffee for you and there was a box of assorted pastries sitting on the table, one of which he was holding between his teeth as he poured a splash of milk into his cup. He turned to you, leaning against the counter and took a bite out of his scone.

"What's this?" You quirked an eyebrow as you studied the scene.

"A 'thank you', I s'pose," he shrugged, voice deep with residual exhaustion. He scratched at the short stubble on his chin, almost nervously, "It's been like a month since I moved in ‘ere, and, to be honest, I wasn't really expectin’ you to let me stay longer than a week."

You laughed softly and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, taking note of how comfortable the space was with his presence in it. You couldn't ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him in this light; the way the soft, morning sun bounced off of his blonde hair like a halo. He stayed right where he was as you moved around him; his tired, blue eyes following as you grabbed your favorite mug and a spoon from the drawer.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to want to stay," you mentioned as you stood next to him and added two scoops of sugar to your cup. Your eyes flickered up to meet his stare, which was so blue you might as well have been looking up at the sky itself. "We're basically strangers."

"I wouldn't say that," he shrugged, lips curling into a small smirk, and you had to stop looking at him before you spilled coffee all over yourself.

"Oh? What are we then?" You asked, feeling your cheeks warming slightly as you averted your gaze.

"Not strangers," you could hear the smirk in his tone; his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he took another bite of his pastry and pushed himself off the counter. "Besides," he added, taking a few steps towards the living room before glancing back at you. "A stranger wouldn't know your favorite bakery."

You laughed softly through your nose, realizing that your new roommate had just confessed to eavesdropping on your late-night FaceTime calls with your best friend. Not that he really had a choice—the walls were paper-thin, after all. Just two days ago, you’d mentioned how badly you were craving a chocolate croissant, but how they always seemed to sell out before you could get one. Now, as you flipped open the top of the cardboard box, your stomach sank. A sudden jolt of realization shot through you, followed by a nauseating wave of panic. 

There they were. 

Four chocolate croissants, neatly packed and staring back at you.

“Fuck.”

[ssavaart]

Sometimes You Have to Make 100 BAD Drawings To Get 1 GOOD One

(Earlier this year, a publisher asked me if I'd be interested in writing a book on art. As we discussed it... they asked me to "give it a try" and this is one of two tests I did. I don't consider myself a writer, really, so this is just "in my own voice". I wound up turning down the offer... but would love to know your thoughts on this. Thanks)

Drawing something good. Something you like. It’s… elusive. Especially when you’re just starting out.

But, here’s the thing. You have good art in you. I promise. You just have to get to it and it’s stuck under a bunch of bad art. Really bad art.

When I was younger, I would draw every day. Filling up sketchbooks with doodles and sketches and I hated ALL of them.

Page 01: Crap

Page 02: Crap

Page 03: Crap

Page 04: Worse than Crap

Page 05: What even is that?

Page 06: Ugh

And it was just downhill from there…

But… somewhere around like page 100… I made something that… “wasn’t crap”. I actually didn’t hate it.

And that gave me courage to keep going. That one drawing made it all worth it. I was cured. I was now an expert. All of my art would be great from now on.

Oh… if only.

The next drawing was worse than any other drawing before it.

How??? I just made ART! like 5 minutes before that. I got all the bad drawings out! How did my art just go from Van Gogh to Van NO???

Honestly? I… got lucky. That one good drawing? Total fluke. Dumb luck. Sheer Happenstance.

Doing 100 drawings didn’t suddenly make me an expert. It couldn’t.

Have you ever heard of the saying “If a million monkeys type on a million typewriters for a million years, they’ll eventually write Shakespeare”?

I was those monkeys and that drawing was my Shakespeare.

I just pooped out enough bad art that eventually sheer luck was going to mean I may make something really good.

And I’m TOTALLY okay with that. I was 11. I’m not a prodigy. I don’t have any special gifts. But what I did have was… a taste for how making good art felt.

Seeing that one good drawing made me want more. Like my first time tasting chocolate ice cream. I was hooked.

So, I made 100 more bad drawings. Maybe more. And, guess what? ANOTHER great drawing emerged!

Another Shakespeare from this 11 year old monkey!!!! Huzzah!

From then on… I knew that all I had to do was keep banging away at that typewriter (I’m still on the million monkey thing… bear with me) and I would get rewarded with another masterpiece.

Week after week. Month after month. I would fill up my sketchbooks with the most horrific, amateurish, incomprehensible art… and, sure enough, 1 of every 100 drawings would not suck.

I would show it to my mom and she would say “Oh! That’s wonderful!” and when she tried to turn the pages to see more, I would quickly SNATCH it out of her hands and run back into the shadows like Gollum hiding his “Precious” from prying eyes.

I dare not let her see the monstrosities that came before the work of genius.

And… this went on. For years. Predictably. Rhythmically.

Until, one day… my 75th drawing was really good.

How? It was 25 drawings early! That’s not how it was supposed to work. That wasn’t the plan.

But there it was. A really amazing drawing of a spaceship I came up with out of my head. It had lasers and a cockpit and wings and…It was glorious. And it was totally unexpected.

Maybe NOW I was an expert and I no longer needed to make bad art? Would today be the day I would only make masterpieces?

I quickly turned the page and began to draw what would soon be my second greatest work of art and… NOPE.

Still crap.

Hm. But… something was different. It was still crap. But… it wasn’t as “crappy” as the other crap.

I grabbed my previous sketchbooks and looked at the bad drawings from previous years and… guess what? My older bad drawings were WORSE than my newer bad drawings!

Apparently, the more I drew… the better my BAD drawings got too.   

Okay. So. I drew 75 more “not as crappy” bad drawings and… predictably… I made another great drawing!

I was… IMPROVING.

This went on for years. I went to high school. Then art school. I hated MOST of my art… but as I practiced… the number of BAD art I had to make to get to the GOOD art got lower and lower. Soon it was 50 bad pieces for 1 good one. Then 25. Then 10.

It took decades when I noticed… I liked my art more often than not.

It was a complete surprise. I was in my 40’s when this happened. I was SO conditioned to just accept I was going to hate my art that I hadn’t noticed that I had made 5 paintings that didn’t suck. IN A ROW!!!

Unheard of!

But, there it was. 5 good paintings. One right after the other.

The 6th one was complete trash. Tossed it in the garbage.

But, the 7th one? I liked. And the 8th. And the 9th.

I’m now 54 and I know I still have SO much bad art in me. I can feel it. Always ready to pop up and ruin my day.

But, I “pooped out” so much bad art over the years that I’m not really worried about those pop up bad art surprises. I know it’s just temporary.

I like my art now. And that’s because I got MOST of the bad art out of me and into those old sketchbooks.

I know it may seem daunting doing 100 bad drawings just to get to 1 good one. But… if you love that feeling of making that one GOOD piece of art… you need to be patient and get the bad ones out. They’re blocking the good ones. Keeping them deep inside you.

So, crack open that sketchbook. Poop out those bad pieces of art and never look back.

You’ll thank me in like 40 years or so. I promise.

(Oh. And sorry for all the poop references. I’m still that 11 year old when it comes to humor)

Poop.

[rosyhoneydew]

🍎 + bucktommy

yay I love this one! Thank you for the prompt, Lorri 🫶!

🍎 apple & pumpkin picking / future spec | Bucktommy | G | 1,249

Buck only barely manages to get the door open before Jee nearly launches herself out of his arms and into Tommy.

“‘mmy!”

Tommy lets out a small ‘uff’ sound and reflexively reaches out to grab Jee, smiling big as his brain catches up to the last 10 seconds.

“Hey kiddo!”

“I made a turtle!” she says. She’s still got little bits of clay stuck to her fingers.

“Wow! You wanna show me?” Tommy asks, setting her on the floor as she nods and wiggles to be put down.

Buck huffs a little laugh at the way she half-runs half-toddles into the living room to grab her clay sculpture. Then he leans over to kiss his boyfriend hello.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry, babe, I meant to text you but the morning got away from us.”

“Everything good with Chim and Maddie?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re fine, just some last-minute court meeting for Mara. I think Hen’s there too,” he explains.

He’s not sure how these things usually go, but it seems a bit like all these lawyers and social workers are expecting them to drop everything the second they’re needed. It feels a little like Chim and Hen are always on call, that way.

“Rain check on the movie?”

“Of course,” Tommy says, moving to rest his hand on Buck’s lower back before he ducks down to see the monstrosity Jee’s clay turtle has morphed into. He ooh’s and ahh’s over it for a minute, asking her questions about the colors before turning back to look at Buck. “You two have big plans today?”

“Working our way through the arts and crafts mom and dad packed, for now.”

Tommy hums. “There’s an orchard up in Thousand Oaks, how would you two feel about some apple picking? I think they have a petting zoo up there too.”

“I think we could do with some fresh air,” Buck says, pleasantly surprised. Tommy loves Jee, but Buck hadn’t really expected him to stick around and co-babysit all day, much less drive them out anywhere.

Tommy turns to Jee, then. “What do you say, Jee? Want to go pick out some apples to bring back for mom and dad?”

“Yeah!” she shouts, dropping the turtle to the floor where it smooshes.

It’s quick work getting everybody packed up and loaded into Tommy’s car. Jee’s snug in her car seat, and she’s busy with some kind of interactive board book but still demands to hear the Encanto soundtrack for the whole ride. Tommy surprises him by knowing most of the words already. Saw it with my nephews when it came out, he explains when he catches Buck smiling at him.

The orchard isn’t too far from Buck’s place but it’s L.A. so it takes them just under an hour to find the farm and grab a parking spot.

It’s not too busy today. One advantage of the odd hours of the job is being free on random Wednesdays to go to some of the more popular spots.

There’s a quick stop at the entrance to get their bags and directions and then they wander into the rows of trees. Jee starts picking right away, grabbing any apples within her reach and plopping about half into her bag, the rest falling to the ground before Buck gently tells her to only pick the ones she’s sure she really wants.

He’s on the hunt for some baking apples himself, so they meander into the Braeburn rows.

“I want that one!” Jee calls, pointing at a branch about a foot over Tommy’s head.

“This one?” Tommy asks, pointing.

“I wanna pick!”

Tommy just chuckles a little. “Okay,” he says, and lifts Jee up onto his hip before asking, “you alright with going on my shoulders?”

Jee nods, eyes focused on her apple.

Tommy lifts her up, plopping her onto his shoulders and laughing a little when her hands instinctively go to the top of his head and press down for balance.

Buck is absolutely taken with the sight. He’d be laughing too at the way Tommy’s face is smushed under her tiny hands if it weren’t for his own eyes getting rounder and a little wetter and his cheeks flushing. Tommy looks over at him for a second, locking eyes like he’s about to say kids, huh? but then he sees Buck’s face and he just smiles bigger.

Jee shakes the tree a bit with the force of pulling the apple off and promptly bites into it.

“You get it?” Tommy asks.

Jee takes another bite.

“Alright let’s hop down,” Buck jumps in before Jee tries to stay up there all afternoon.

Tommy bends to the ground and helps her off his shoulders.

They wander for a while longer. Buck decides on Cortlands instead after Tommy offers him a bite of a particularly sweet one that he picked. He manages to get his bag filled up enough that he’s confident he’ll have plenty for baking an apple cake with later before Jee gets bored with the picking and walking and runs over to the tiny, farm petting zoo.

They only have a few goats and chickens, but she has a good time feeding them little pieces of cake cones, giggling when their mouths tickle her fingers.

Buck and Tommy watch her for a bit, chatting idly. Tommy’s hand found his as they left the picking area and they haven’t let go since. Like this, Buck finds it all too easy to think about what their future could look like. Taking kids to the orchard. Making plans to visit the pumpkin patch in a few weeks so they can teach them how to make a Jack-O-Lantern. It just feels easy - inevitable almost - and it makes a wave of contradictory calm and excitement wash over Buck. He can’t wait for that.

Jee starts to look ready for a nap after not too long, so they gather everything back into the car and make their way home. She’s asleep before they even hit the 101.

The rest of the day into the early evening passes in a blur of nutmeg and batter and can we watch Coco, please?

It’s nearly 6 by the time Chim and Maddie stop over in a flurry of Sorry, sorry, we didn’t realize it would be such a long day!

They come in for a slice of cake and share the news from the day. Things are finally smoothing out for Hen and Karen and it makes them all breathe a little easier.

Maddie reiterates their apologies, mostly to Tommy, at being a wrench in their plans. Tommy just smiles and assures them I love kids, Jee is great! Buck, for his part, has no idea how to tell Maddie how nice of a day it was without sounding like some kind of lovestruck lunatic who wanted to propose to his boyfriend right there in the middle of the Granny Smiths; so he mostly nods along.

They say goodbye after they’ve finished eating. Tommy hands over the bag of miscellaneous apples that Jee carefully curated, and she gives both of their legs a big hug goodnight.

When they close the door a cozy quiet fills the apartment, and Buck leans against the frame for a minute, looking at Tommy.

Tommy smiles back at him, reaching up to fiddle with the hair behind Buck’s ear.

“Good day, huh?”

“Yeah,” Buck leans in for the kiss and mutters against his lips, “good day.”

send an emoji + pairing for a fall ficlet!🍂

[meo-eiru]

Just sending this drawing through as an apology for the monstrosity I sent last time.

Also kinda love the idea of Professor Silas time worked into the daily routine. Games, picking flowers and watching Silas cook sounds fun and all but I still need mental activities/challenges.

Having the designated time of day where we sit down and Silas bends over your desk to point out where you’ve made a mistake on your math problem. Seeing his boobs squish together on the desk, looking a little shiny cuz we just had a bath, and oh so squishable, drawing your attention from the very important question. To then have him then look over his glasses and innocently ask if you now understand.

Anyway thank you and have a great arvo

Drink a glass of water !

One of my favorite genre of asks are askers sending me cursed stuff and then coming back with beautifully drawn drawings saying sorry

I'm in gain either way I get free art love you guys

And my god professor Silas would make me act up, unhealthy power dynamics who? I need to bury my head in those tits after each lesson or I can't possibly finish school

[steddieasitgoes]

Their dining room table has been taken over by thousands of tiny little beads and elastic in different colors. 

Steve sits opposite their sixteen-year-old daughter, a thin elastic band clutched in one hand and an assortment of approved beads laid out in front of him. He picks up a small purple crystal-like bead and tries to feed the elastic through the minuscule hole. 

“Christ, why isn’t this hole bigger,” he groans, squinting as he tries for the third time to thread the bead onto the elastic. 

“Aw, but I thought you liked tight holes, sweetheart,” Eddie teases, sauntering into the room. 

Their daughter pretends to retch before turning up the Taylor Swift song playing from her phone, hoping to drown them out. It doesn’t matter that they have a state-of-the-art stereo system in the other room that sounds a thousand times better than the shit speakers in her phone. She likes the convenience. 

Steve, on the other hand, glares playfully at Eddie. “Seriously, not in front of our daughter.” 

“Oh, please, don’t pretend she doesn’t know things.” 

“I mean, yeah, but she doesn’t need to know things about us.” 

“I really don’t,” their daughter agrees. 

Eddie laughs before collapsing onto the seat beside Steve. Assessing the beads in front of him, Eddie collects a few and gets to work. 

“Hey,” Steve whines, swatting Eddie’s hand away when he tries to steal one of his beads. “These are mine. You didn’t even get her approval.” 

Eddie scoffs. “I don’t need her approval. She trusts me, right bug?” 

Their daughter rolls her eyes, but nods. Eddie hoots victoriously before going back to his own bracelet. Steve shares a look of amusement with their daughter. One that says it’s better to let Eddie think he won than try to give him a set of rules to play by. 

Many things have changed about Eddie over the years, but one thing that has remained the same is his disdain for other people’s rules — even if the rules are coming from his daughter. 

When Steve tries to take a peek at what Eddie is working on a moment later, he gets a swift elbow to the ribs. “No peaking!” 

Shaking his head, Steve gets back to his own bracelets. It’s a lot easier threading the beads when he grabs his glasses from the bedroom and he manages to finish two daughter-approved bracelets in the time it takes Eddie to finish whatever he’s been working on. 

“Are you ready to see the best bracelet ever?” he asks, standing up with all the dramatics he had when he was thirty years younger. 

Steve and their daughter nod, setting aside their own bracelets to look at Eddie’s creation. 

A rainbow of beads, all different shapes and sizes surround a group of block letter beads that reads: Fuck Ticketmaster. 

Steve laughs while their daughter smirks, shaking her head. 

“It’s not a Taylor lyric, but I appreciate the sentiment.” 

“Our bank account definitely agrees.” 

“So will the Swifties, you’ll see!” Eddie says, reaching for another random set of beads to start another bracelet.  

The three of them spend the rest of the afternoon making friendship bracelets. Well, Steve and their daughter do. Eddie continues making “Fuck Ticketmaster” and various other obscure and random bracelets. The highlights of which include a red beaded monstrosity with the word “scarf” on it and one that just says "Olive Garden."

Unfortunately for Steve and their daughter, Eddie’s unhinged bracelets are the biggest hit at the concert. He ends up trading all his bracelets before they even get into the stadium. 

He doesn’t let them live it down, proclaiming himself the King of Friendship bracelets. 

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Xavier: Bunny Tears | 18+

So anyway Kirakanjo posted another piece of art with Xavier in it and I went absolutely FERAL once more. So not only did I write a Xavier pegging fic again...I edited it. Y'all I put effort into my writing which never freaking happens. Them images be doing something to me and I need to write it.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Xavier x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Blow jobs, hand jobs, men crying, submissive Xavier, pegging, cum eating ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: Xavier has once again managed to almost burn down the kitchen, leading the two of you to be covered in ash. A small suggestion to shower together leads to a little bit more...but really who's surprised by this turn of events? ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 8k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Bunny Tears

You looked over at Xavier from behind the couch, your entire body a little tense. He had insisted he was going to cook, something that made you nervous and on edge. The man had gotten a little bit better after your mission when he was masquerading as the perfect house husband, but you were still weary about it; your eyes never left his figure as he hummed. It was only when he opened the oven that you felt your stomach drop.

“Xavier?” your voice was hesitant as you looked over at him. The man turned, his fluffy hair catching the sunlight and creating a halo effect around him. For a moment he seemed like a true angel…which at times he was. In this exact moment though he was closer to a devil who was about to lay ruin to his own domain.

“Yes?” he seemed so calm, so gentle as he looked over at you. Those pretty blue eyes shining in the light and you almost felt bad for not trusting him with the simple appliance.

“How about I go ahead and do that part,” you were already standing up when his voice stopped you.

“Don’t worry, I made sure to read the instruction manual on this oven. I have it all covered, you just sit back and relax,” he assured you, but his words refused to calm your nerves, “Dinner will be ready soon.” he promised.

You reluctantly sat back down, but your eyes never left his figure. He went back to humming some tune you didn’t know, placing the tray inside the oven and closing it up before hitting a few buttons. From your angle you couldn’t see what was on the tray, nor the buttons he selected. You could only hope things went smoothly.

It took about ten minutes before your fears were realized. You shouldn’t have been surprised to see it, but honestly it was like fireworks. Whatever was inside of the oven literally exploded and made a loud bang noise that shook the room; you just stared at it with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Xavier, who had been watching this monstrosity cook, was also staring at it. He seemed more confused if anything and after you both watched it you realized somebody had to kick it into gear.

You vaulted off the back of the couch and began rushing into the kitchen like your life depended on it. There were already flames and you had no idea how this was even possible in only ten minutes. You grabbed the fire extinguisher from underneath the sink and managed to snuff out the fire in record time, then quickly went over to shut the damn thing off before anything else could happen. You were panting as you stared at the now burnt oven, then back at Xavier who had opted to just watch the entire thing with wide eyes. 

After a moment of silence you finally managed to get out, “Xavier…what the fuck?” you looked between him and the ashes. Xavier finally seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, walking over to you and the oven. He placed a hand over your waist, probably about to apologize and make everything alright when the next series of unfortunate events happened. 

The food that Xavier had managed to cook had become char in the oven, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the center of the lump to explode and propell said ashes all over the surrounding areas. The explosion also managed to ricochet the powder from the fire extinguisher that had been coating it, making a beautiful plume of every chemical that shouldn't be in your lungs. 

It had you coughing and hacking, “The window! Get the window!” You called out to Xavier, not even  capable of seeing through all the smoke. Xavier’s frantic footsteps could be heard as he dashed towards the nearest window in the kitchen, the latch clicked open as it was unlocked and thrown open in a flurry.

“Come on,” Xavier’s voice had the nerve to sound worried as he wrapped strong arms around you, lifting you up and carrying you out of the main area of the explosion where particles still lingered. Once safely in the living room, you hacked and coughed some of the smoke out of your lungs then looked over at Xavier. You were opening your mouth to begin a long and drawn out lecture, but he managed to beat you to it.

“I’m sorry…” He said, his voice a gentle lull that made all your anger about the situation dissipated. You let out a small sigh then took in his appearance. His pristine skin now had smatterings of ash all over it and you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked like he had just come back from a battle against some wanderers with how the dark soots clung to his hair and face and slowly fell to the ground whenever he moved.

“Xavie…” You said with amusement in your voice, “You got a little…” you pointed over at his nose where some of the ash was smudged. He looked at you with a similar look in his eyes.

“I’m not the only one,” He pointed out, reaching over and swiping his thumb over your cheek, “We’re both messes right now,” he sighed, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. His hands now on your waist as he looked into your eyes with a lovestruck expression.

“Oh I wonder whose fault that is,” you teased, shaking your head, “We need a shower and a change of clothes. We can order some food afterwards,” it was a suggestion that you were certain Xavier would be all for. It would also give you two an opportunity to clean up the mess in the kitchen while you waited for dinner…it wasn’t something you looked forward to as your eyes glanced behind Xavier to see that there was still stuff floating about in the kitchen.

“That sounds nice…should we open some more windows?” Xavier asked after he followed your gaze. Everything was destroyed and you were certain there might’ve even been some neighbors in the hallway staring at the door with all the commotion this had caused. The only difference this time was the fire alarms weren’t blaring to alert everyone in the complex that this man hadn’t a single clue about how to cook.

Honestly you were damn happy you managed to uninstall his fire alarms. Was it a violation to the apartment contract? Without a doubt, yes. Did you care? No. You would actually cry if you had to hear those alarms going off anytime the man thought he could cook, a sentiment you were sure was shared amongst everyone living nearby.

“Ya, let’s open every available window for now,” you said, “Then it’s shower time,” you were already heading towards the living room to get to work. It only took a few minutes to get everything open, and Xavier even went so far as to open the ones in his bedroom as well, just in case. The gentle breeze that blew into the apartment was already making it easier to breathe in.

Once all was said and done, Xavier had come back up to you, “If you’d like, you can shower first,”. You couldn’t help yourself, he was just too sweet and adorable when he gave you those eyes and put your needs before his. Your hands cupped his cheeks and you dragged him down for a quick kiss. He let out a confused noise from the back of his throat, but ended up leaning into you like he always did. His body melted into you everytime your lips touched and right now was no different; his hands gently placed on your hip, his lips gently grazing your own.

When you parted you looked up at him, “How about we shower together today?” showering was something you two didn’t partake in too often as the shower wasn’t huge, but in moments like these it made sense. You both desperately needed to clean up. 

Xavier’s grip on your hips tightened in response as he then leaned down quickly for another soft press of your lips and smiled, “I like the sound of that,” he took your hand into his own, his thumb grazing against your knuckles. It was tender as he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before giving it a proper hold. 

He began leading you through the apartment, gently tugging you along and squeezing your hand until you arrived in his restroom. It was just big enough for the two of you to comfortably be inside at the same time. The room looked like a perfect combination of the two of you, a few of your personal belongings scattered about. Xavier had insisted you kept things over here despite how you lived right below him. You assumed he liked having pieces of you in his life, and you could relate.

The moment you began undressing you realized that your current attire was absolutely ruined, no amount of washing would fix that. As you began working your pants off your eyes trailed over to your boyfriend. Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect as you watched him take off his hoodie in one swift motion, revealing the expanse of his muscular chest. You had to pause for a second, taking in the sight. You didn’t know how someone could be sculpted so perfectly, but here Xavier stood, like a greek statue come to life. Except…

Your eyes turned down to him unzipping his pants…ya that certainly wasn’t like any of the statues you had seen. He had stopped in his motions and your eyes went back up to see him looking directly at you. One of his eyebrows rose as he noticed how your eyes were practically glued to him. You were completely unashamed of your actions and when you noticed his eyes quickly flickering over your form you smirked.

“Why’d you stop, I was enjoying myself,” You teased him, slowly making your way to the shower. You turned it on and sat at the edge, leaning on the wall as your gaze went back to him, “Go on,” you encouraged. Now you were making a show of how you looked at him, even going so far as to  lick your lips. You could see the way his body shuddered under your gaze and it was already starting to set the mood for something else.

Xavier looked at you one more time before his hands went back to his half open pants. He slowly worked them open and hooked his fingers into the edge in a seductive fashion, eyes quickly flicking to yours to make sure you were watching. You watched the shuddered breath he took in as he worked his pants and briefs off, for a second the briefs got caught on the half hard bulge. You fought back the urge to tease him, knowing just how his body reacted when around you. This shower was probably going to last a little bit longer than expected, but you certainly didn’t mind.

Once he was fully undressed he approached you, taking your hand once more as he led you into the shower. Like the gentleman he was, he made sure you were directly under the showerhead. His hands went into your hair, massaging your scalp as he worked out some of the ashes. The water poured over your face as you closed your eyes, feeling his hands rubbing off the dirt and debris for you. You briefly felt his lips ghosting over your own, but when you opened he was just looking at you with that innocent smile as though he didn’t do anything.

“Xavier…” you murmured, wanting to drag him back down for a proper kiss, but he needed to be cleaned up first. With your hands on his shoulders you were able to spin the two of you around, the motion fluid with the amount of times you had done this. He didn’t fight you on it, instead sighing as he got under the running water. He turned towards it, letting it splash onto his face and hair as he washed himself, leaving you to watch him.

The way the water trickled down his back teasingly, his back muscles moving with every motion…it was so tantalizing. He managed to be sexy without even trying and you knew for a fact you didn’t want to hold back for even a second longer. As soon as you were certain he was cleaned up, you took a step forward, wrapping your arms around his front and pressing your face between his shoulder blades. 

Your lips gently grazed his shoulder blades as your arms held him tighter to your body. A shiver went down his spine as he craned his neck around to look at you. “Did you need something?” he asked, his voice as sweet and gentle as it always was. 

You let out a satisfied hum at his question, you pressed another sweet kiss into his shoulder before speaking up, “You’re so pretty, Xayxay,” you muttered contently against him. Your grip loosened a bit as you nuzzled your face into him..

Xavier understood what you wanted, turning around in your arms. You wasted no time, leaning up and pressing your lips against his own. Once more he began melting against your mouth as he sighed as though your lips were the only thing he needed in life. Xavier let out a small gasp once he felt your tongue prodding at his lower lip and he easily opened up, allowing your tongue to explore his mouth. Xavier always tasted sweet to you, something so uniquely him as your mouth explored his own.

Xavier’s groan echoed along the shower walls, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your bodies were pressed together as one of your hands grasped his hair, keeping him right where you wanted him. The loud smacking of lips reverberated in the small room as you drank in the man before you, enjoying every brush of his tongue against your own as your thighs pressed together.

You felt his cock twitching against your stomach and you smirked against Xavier’s mouth. Your free hand running down his chest until you were tracing the lines of his Adonis belt teasingly. You parted for only a second and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Getting excited?” you asked with a smirk, your hand now trailing even lower until you were cupping his dick. He let out a small groan, his hips rolling up into your hand in response. You grasped his dick, giving a few experimental tugs on him, watching as his mouth dropped open and he stared down at you, “I wanna hear you, sweetheart, want you to tell me exactly what you want,”

“O-okay,” he managed to moan, “Please keep…” your pace got a little bit faster at the sound of his pleading. The smallest whimper escaping him, his voice got caught in his throat as the only thing he was focused on was your hand pumping his cock with the perfect pressure that had his mind reeling.

“Keep what?” You cooed, loving how responsive this man always was. His breathing began mixing with the loud noises of your hand expertly working his cock. Your thumb swiping some of the leaking pre cum that was threatening to drop onto the shower floor, “Come on, I wanna hear you,” you teased, placing a small nip to his jawline..

He leaned closer to you, his hands grasping your hips as he rolled his own up into your waiting hand, “Keep…touching me,” his voice sounded breathless and you could feel how he twitched in your hand. To think  he would be this quick to cum just from a simple hand job. You absolutely adored this side of Xavier, when he completely gave in to you and became such a good and submissive boy. This side of him was reserved only for you which is exactly why you enjoyed drawing it out of him.

“Alright, pretty boy,” you cooed, your hand now speeding up. Your only goal at the moment was to get him to cum, and with how his hips were jerking he was seconds away. His head bent down into your shoulder as he let out a small whine. The pelting of the water against his back was the only thing grounding him at the moment as he finally gave in to the pleasure.

You looked between your bodies and watched as ropes of cum erupted from the head of his cock. The thick fluid coated your hands and splashed between your bodies, some of it getting right onto your stomach and dripping down between your legs. Xavier seemed to have noticed this too, another lewd moan coming from the back of his throat as he rolled his hips a few more times into your waiting hand, letting his spend wash over the both of you.

You let him relax against you for a moment, your fingers playing with some of his cum that was now coating your palm and fingers. A thought crossed your mind and after Xavier’s breathing started to even out, you used your shoulder to gently nudge him off you. He stood back up, looking down at you with a gentle flush coating his cheeks that seemed to darken as you brought your hand up to his mouth.

“Want a taste, bunny?” You asked, the cum slightly smearing on the corner of his lips as you swiped your thumb over his mouth. You watched how his eyes widened a fraction as what you were asking. He looked at you for a minute more, weighing his options as he felt your finger pressing a little harder on his bottom lip, a silent command to open.

He complied, opening his mouth, his tongue darting out and licking his essence off your palm. He groaned at the taste, and you smirked as he lapped up his own release. HIs pink tongue licking between your fingers as he worked on making sure it was completely clean. When most of it was gone you pressed two fingers onto his tongue, pressing down as his jaw opened for you to look in his mouth. You could see a little bit of the white on the tip and you glanced back into his eyes.

“What a good boy, now make sure to swallow it,” you said and watched as he closed his mouth around your fingers, giving them a gentle suck as he swallowed his own load. You took your fingers out of his mouth and reached behind him, turning off the shower and looking up at him.

“What a good boy…” you murmured, your hand on his shoulder as you coaxed him to follow your lead, leaning down and kissing him again. Xavier groaned against your mouth as you pressed your tongue back into his, able to faintly taste his release. His grip on your hips tightening for a second as you parted as though he didn’t want you to go. He looked so damn handsome like this and you swore you were falling in love all over again.

“We should…” he trailed off and you knew exactly what he was implying. Without the running water it was starting to get chilly. As much as you watched to watch his nipples pebbling up from the chill, you did want to get warmed up.

“Alright, come on,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his lips before taking his hands off your hips. You took his larger hand into your own, dragging him out of the shower. He was smiling at you, allowing you to pull him in any direction you wanted. You took a towel and wrapped it around his waist, forcing him forward and into your body once more, “How about after we dry off a little…” you began suggesting.

You didn’t even finish your train of thought as Xavier nodded, “Yes please,” he quickly said, not even an ounce of shame with how desperate he was for you. You chuckled as you wrapped the fluffy towel around his waist and grabbed your own. The two of you fell into a rhyme together, practically dancing around one another as you worked on getting yourselves dried off.

Once you were somewhat dry you two left the towels abandoned on the floor. Hand in hand as you made your way into the bedroom, bumping into one another like excited teens doing something naughty. The way Xavier kept gazing down at you like you were the one who hung every star in the sky.

The moment you came to the bedroom you were gently pushing him down onto the mattress, your hand on his chest. He didn’t fight it, allowing you to crawl on top of him, your lips meeting again and Xavier’s hands threaded through your hair, gently playing with it as he kept you against him. If there was one thing Xavier loved, it was kissing you. It was like oxygen as your lips perfectly melded together every single time, sending a tingling sensation to the back of his head and making him shiver. He could never get enough of you as you gently bit down on his lower lip, requesting access once more.

You parted your lips from him, opting to look down at the man as your hair dripped onto his body, “Xavier,” you began breathlessly, catching his attention, “I still wanna play a little bit,” you murmured, catching his attention at the way you said it. You had the smallest pout on your lips, although he could tell with how your eyes were gleaming that something sinister was brewing in your mind.

Still, he was a weak man, and if you said jump he’d ask how high and to where. “Alright, if that’s what you want,” he said, his voice wavering only slightly. He had hoped you would just ride him, or maybe let him flip you over, but if you wanted to play with his body then he’d allow you. As long as you didn’t tease him too much he let you do whatever you wanted.

“Thanks babe,” you leaned back up to kiss him quickly before your lips began pressing along his body. You could hear his breath hitch as your lips trailed down his neck and to his chest. Your tongue lapping at one of his hardened nipples before latching on. His back arched into you just from the simple.

“W-wait,” he moaned out, feeling how your tongue swirled around the hardening bud. You let out a hum, looking up at him while your other hand went to play with his other nipple. You waited for him to continue but instead he ground his hips up into you. At this angle his cock was rutting against your stomach and you could feel how hard he had gotten since the shower. You felt the slightest wet sensation from the top of his cock leaking.

Perhaps at some point you’d see if it was possible to get him to cum with just stimulation to his nipples, but you wanted him to cum in your mouth at the moment. When you had kissed him earlier, tongue pressing against his own, you could faintly taste him. It had you craving more, like it always did. It was bitter, salty, but it tasted like him and that was all your mind really wanted. You wanted Xavier in every way possible, all at once.

You popped off his nipple, licking your already wet lips, “Xavier, you told me to wait,” you pressed a kiss between his pecs, “Now what am I waiting for?” your mouth was moving over to his other cute nipple. It was pink and pebbled perfect as your breath ghosted over it, sending a shiver down Xavier’s spine.

Xavier opened his mouth and was about to say something when he seemed to pause. His eyebrows furrowed as he clearly tried to think about why he wanted you to wait. You felt so good kissing him, licking his nipples, it was making him hard and needy. He swallowed the lump in his throat as you spoke up, “Can’t remember? Want me to continue then?” teasingly your tongue poked out your mouth and licked his pearled up bud.

This elicited a small gasp from him, his hand reaching up to run through your hair, pushing away some so it wouldn’t get in the way, “Yes please,” he said and your mouth latched onto him, giving this side the same treatment. Your tongue swirling around his hardened peak, making him groan as he pressed his chest closer to your mouth. Your fingers played with the other side, giving it a harsh pinch so you could see him mewl.

His hips were rutting shamelessly against your stomach, twitching as he tried to get some much needed stimulation. You smirked, biting around his nipple and god that had him moaning like a damn whore, his grip on your hair tightening as you popped off his nipple. You looked at your work, seeing his pink nipples now turned a red tone. Your teeth marks were perfectly around one of them and his blush now spread from his cheeks down to his chest so perfectly it made you want to eat him right up.

“Such a pretty boy,” your words made him whimper, watching as you began kissing a trail down his chest to his abs. Your tongue lapped at some of the water droplets that still clung to his skin as you gazed up at him. He was watching you with such an intense gaze as you made your way down to his hips.

You bit down on his Adonis belt, making Xavier’s hips buck up into you. You felt his erection between your chest now, leaking all over you from how hot and bothered you managed to make him. You chuckled as you licked at the small red bite mark you had left on him. Xavier looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowed at your teasing.

“Something to say?” you said, your hands now rubbing at his thighs as you coaxed him to spread them. The pink dusting on his cheeks didn’t seem like it would be going anywhere soon, in fact it seemed to make him a shade darker as he looked away from you for a moment. Despite his embarrassed state, you watched as he opened his legs to make room for you to nestle between them. Your cheek rested on his inner thigh as your other hand gently played with the other.

“N-no…” he said, looking at you between his thighs. You looked at him lovingly, smiling as you kissed his thigh and adjusted yourself. Your hand wrapping around his cock as you gave a few gentle tugs, feeling how he twitched in your hands. He let out a small whimper at your hand wrapping around him again, his eyes half lidded as he stared down at you. You could see his mouth open slightly, panting and you shivered at the sight. He was so sensitive and it never ceased to turn you on.

You teased him one last time, biting down on his inner thigh hard and watched as his cock jumped in your hands. A thick bead of pre cum dripping down the shaft and right into your hand as you casually pumped his cock. Xavier let out a whimpering moan at the rough treatment and you only wished he didn’t heal so damn fast the marks you left would be seen for at least a week after this. It was fine, you’d just have to refresh them daily since they went away seemingly overnight.

Finally you took his cock into your mouth, giving the tip a harsh suck. Xavier’s hips rolled into your mouth out of instinct, making you smirk and pop off him, “Xavie baby,” you cooed, watching his hazy eyes staring down at you as he tried listening, “Be still for me, okay sweetheart?” you began, “Think you can do that for me?”

Xavier let out a groan and nodded, but when he noticed you weren’t back on his dick he realized what you wanted, “I-I promise,” he swore, his tone breathy and debauched already. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth. You briefly wondered if you could make him drool today by fucking him. Well, there was only one way to find out…

You wasted no time, your mouth moving on Xavier as you began sucking his cock like it was the last thing you’d ever taste. The change was immediate as you began working in earnest, and Xavier clearly wasn’t prepared for you to be sucking him like this right out the gate.  The high pitched keen that left him was telling, as well as the steady dribble of his pre that was coating the back of your tongue. You groaned at the taste of him, working to relax your throat so you could take all of him. 

Xavier certainly wasn’t small, the girth of his cock was punishing if you weren’t prepared to take it, but thankfully his length was only a little above average. It made it a little easier for you to deepthroat him, but even then you gagged around his length a little as it hit the back of your throat. Xavier gasped at the sound you made, looking down with a flush as his hand went back into your hair, dragging you off his cock and watching the trail of saliva connecting your lips to the tip.

“Y-you don’t have to…” he swallowed, “Take it too deep…it feels good no matter what,” he said, his eyes concerned despite how turned on he was. You moved to kiss his cock, making him close his eyes and breath deeply, trying to steady himself from how good you were making him feel right now.

Finally you deigned to speak up, “Do you not like me gagging on your cock, Xavier?” the lewd words making him groan, “Because I love taking you deep, babes, seeing your eyes rolling back from the pleasure. Want you to get lost in it,” you rambled on, licking up his length. A small whine escaped him as his grip on your hair loosened enough for you to move freely, “Let me make you feel good, bunny, I promise I won’t push myself. Is that okay?” you licked the dribble from his tip again.

Xavier licked his lips and nodded, “If you’re sure…” he said and it was the green light you were waiting for. Your lips wrapping back around him as you sank down as deep as you could go, feeling his cock once again hitting the back of your throat and you hummed in delight.

Xavier hadn’t expected you to sink down like that the moment he said it was okay. His head was thrown back onto the pillow as he let out the loudest moan of the night. His sounds were music to your ears, so beautiful every single time he let a noise escape those pretty lips of his.

His  head was now spinning from how good you were making him feel and it was a struggle for him not to roll his hips into your mouth. His throbbing cock was heavy on your tongue as you worked on swirling it around his shaft. With how thick he was it wasn’t easy, his dick taking up all the room in your mouth and it caused a gentle ache in your jaw.

His breathing was becoming labored and he could feel himself getting close embarrassingly at an alarmingly fast rate. Perhaps it was due to him still being sensitive from you jerking him off in the shower, but the moans coming out of him were so loud and his cock was now twitching against your tongue. His body trembled as he worked on holding himself back and it was so adorable seeing him place his hand in his mouth, biting down on it to keep his noise level down.

What wouldn’t fit in your mouth was now being stroked with your hand, your other one cupping his balls and you could feel how they tightened in your grasp, “W-wait I’m…” Xavier managed to get out, wanting to warn you, maybe even stop you from continuing. He probably wanted to be inside of you before he came, but at present you had no intention on letting him fuck you for this evening.

You could feel his cock twitch once more before you could taste the bitterness of his cum as he shot out and onto your tongue. You worked on angling his cock so his load wouldn’t shoot right down your throat. You wanted to taste him as you worked him through a second orgasm for the night. You hummed around his length, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment as his grip on your hair was so tight. The burn of it only made you feel hot and bothered as you rolled your hips into the mattress below.

Xavier was so sensitive at the moment as he started to come down from his high. He flinched at feeling how you had kept him in your mouth, your tongue laving at the lip as you swallowed his load. He could feel your throat constricting with the motion and he recoiled. You smirked at the reaction he had, knowing it was probably a little painful after just coming for the second time that night. You had every intention of ruining this man though, so instead of letting him have a moment to breathe you were popping your lips off his cock and replacing it with your hand.

You spit on your other hand, placing your wet fingers against his entrance. Some of the spit from your sloppy blowjob had already dripped down to his ass, making it easier to push a finger into his hole. You watched Xavier’s eyes shoot open, widening almost comically as he let out a whorish moan. He looked down as you began fucking him with your finger, your mouth going back to wrap around the head of his dick.

“S-stop it’s-mhm fuck,” he gasped out as your fingers found his prostate the moment you were pressed into him. You had done this so many times it was second nature to you. You felt how his cock was twitching again in your mouth. It hadn’t even had a moment to soften as your tongue worked on the length. Xavier looked completely out of it, staring down at you with a frantic look in those hazy blue eyes.

Xavier was panting, trying to shy away from your touches but it was no use. He let out another whine and rolled his hips up, making you gag for a second on his length and you looked up at him in amusement. He looked so fucked out and he had only cum twice so far. He was honestly too adorable as you continued to finger him, a second finger now pressing inside as you scissored him. You worked his entrance open all the while listening to his symphony and whimpers and whines.

He was squirming under your ministrations, the hand that wasn’t in your hair was thrown back into his mouth as he bit down harshly in a failed attempt at muffling those cute noises. The noises he made were sure to get you guys a few noise complaints come tomorrow morning, but as it stood you were drinking them all in as you didn’t let up. His cock throbbed in your mouth, pulsing against your tongue and you finally took your mouth off his cock. You licked your lips, his taste lingering in your mouth and you ground your hips once more into the mattress to help alleviate the growing arousal in you. You wanted to focus on Xavier though, you could deal with your own needs at another time.

Xavier’s ass clenched around your fingers perfectly and you almost felt bad when you took them out. Xavier looked down at you confused as to why you stopped. While his body was sensitive he was starting to get so close to coming again.

“W-why’d you…” he trailed off, his lips forming a cute pout and you chuckled at the sight. Fuck he was too adorable and he didn’t even realize it half the time. How was this man a dangerous hunter yet easily fell apart into a whimpering mess the moment you toyed with his body?

“Give me a minute, okay?” you assured him with a gentle squeeze to his thighs. You stood up from the bed and walked over to the drawer in the nightstand, quickly finding your harness alongside the lube. It was a pretty little thing, a sleek baby blue strap that was long and tapered. It wasn’t particularly girthy, but the end of it did have an upward turn for finding the prostate. It was the perfect toy for Xavier. He didn’t much care for having something huge in him, but he was always readily accepting of something that would graze that tender spot inside every thrust.

Xavier has wrongfully assumed he had a moment of peace as he laid back on the mattress, his cock hard but sensitive. That illusion was destroyed the moment he looked over to see the strap in your hand. His breath got caught in his throat as he saw you holding the harness and lube, looking at him with intrigue. His cock betrayed him, twitching at the sight of you and it didn’t go unnoticed if the growing smirk on your face was telling.

You watched as your sweet boy squirmed on the bed, attempting to sit up so he could have at least a little dignity. Just by clicking your tongue he paused, looking over at you, “Xavier, calm down baby boy,” you cooed, “I’ll give you what you want in just a second, let me just put this on real fast,”

He stopped moving for a moment, opting to sink back onto the pillows underneath him. He watched as you put on the harness, working the straps of it over your thighs and hips as you secured it into place. He licked his lips as you tightened it, watching how it clung to you so perfectly. You gently got on the bed, the mattress having enough give to shift Xavier on it as he looked at you with so much want in his eyes.

You crawled over until you were between Xavier’s legs and tapped them then smiled as you saw Xavier eagerly opening his legs so you’d have better access. His cock laid heavy between them, dripping onto the mattress as your hand took it, pumping it twice before laying it on his stomach.. The popping noise of the lube cap opening sounded so loud in the room as you poured some over your hand; Xavier watched as you smeared some of the viscous liquid onto the artificial cock.. Those same fingers that were making him fall apart minutes ago now pressed against his entrance.

“Is this okay?” You murmured, pressing a finger inside of him. It was an easy glide and soon the second joined it as you scissored him. You were careful not to press against his prostate again, your only goal was to get lube inside of him so the cock would be comfortably nestled in his warmth.

He let out a loud moan, feeling how you began working him open some more. He nodded in reply, his jaw open in pleasure and you stopped your movements and looked at him, “Use your words,” you instructed, “You know how much I love hearing your voice,”

Xavier swallowed thickly before nodding, “Y-yes, it’s okay…” he trailed off once he felt your fingers moving inside of him. It didn’t take much with your previous ministrations and you took your fingers out, stroking your strap as Xavier’s eyes flew down to you, trying to relax in anticipation of being fucked.

You pressed the head of the strap against his hole, teasing him as you put just a little bit of pressure and allowing the tip inside. Xavier looked up at you with pleading eyes; they looked almost wet with unshed tears and you couldn’t help but smirk at how docile he appeared to be in the moment. He claimed he wasn’t some sweet and innocent bunny, but it took barely any coaxing to get him to this point of being needy. Sure sometimes he was capable of flipping you over the couch and fucking you dumb, but he was just as willing to be on his back like this.

“Please don’t tease me,” he managed to mutter, his cute flush crossing his cheeks as he stared up at you. He looked so fucked out already and you hadn’t even put it in yet. You felt your entire body getting a bit warmer, licking your lips as you decided to give him what he wanted.

“Of course, my love, you know I’ll give you anything when you ask me like that,” The toy easily began sliding into his waiting hole, his entire body lax under your touch as you bottomed out in him. You heard him letting out a keening whine as you adjusted, the tip of it no doubt grazing his prostate as you intended You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it again and without warning you began thrusting hard.

Xavier’s legs were quick to wrap around your waist at the feeling , locking his ankles around your back as he let out a loud and needy moan. Small curses escaping his mouth at feeling how fast you began fucking him, how your slick hand wrapped around his cock and worked him at the same pace as the strap.

It only came as a small surprise when you watched his cock twitch before splatters of cum painted his abs and your hand. It had happened so fast that you don’t even think Xavier was able to comprehend that he came immediately, the sensations being too much in such a short timespan that he let out a broken whimper as you worked him through it.

“Fuck…” you moaned out, seeing how easily he came, his cock still twitching as you didn’t let up your pace. Xavier’s arms were clutching at the pillows near his head, his back arched off the mattress as you continued fucking him at a fast pace. He felt like he was going to break as tears slid down his cheeks at the near painful feeling of your hand jerking him off.

Your hips worked against Xavier, thrusting into him at a brutal pace as the room filled with the slapping noises and Xavier’s small sobs. You wanted to see him become a complete and utter mess and you were so damn close to it. Xavier made the realization at what you were after after he started to come down from his high. His body felt like a livewire, already coming three times within maybe half an hour.

His entire body jostled with every thrust and he was absolutely whining now, babbling about it being too much as the strap hit his prostate with every thrust. His head was thrown back as he tried squirming away, his hands still grasping the sheets underneath him like a life line as the material scrunched up and almost tore from the grip. He couldn’t stop the pathetic whimpering noises that flew out of his mouth, every thrust punching the air right out of his lungs.

“Ah-ah-hah p-please mhn-hah…” hearing him moaning your name like it was the gospel as his cock leaked, his own cum being smeared over his stomach as you pressed his dick onto it. You used his own stomach and your hand to create more friction as you worked him perfectly to the same tune of your thrusts.

His mind instantly went to mush at the sensation, short circuiting as the only thing his brain could focus on was the pleasure coursing through him. He didn’t even think he had anything left to give as tears streaming out, his mouth opened as he let out sobs that he couldn’t contain. You could feel his cock twitching and his body responded like you’d come to expect when he came, but instead of cum leaking from the tip there was only a drizzle of clear fluid as he had a mostly dry orgasm.

He couldn’t even speak at this point, his entire mind clouded and as much as you wanted to keep fucking him, you knew he was spent. He was panting and crying and damn he couldn’t even cum anymore at this point. You let go of his poor cock, watching as it dropped onto his stomach as you let out gentle coos, your hands rubbing his hips gently as you tried getting him to come back to you.

Still you couldn’t help but tease him a little more, those blue eyes seemed a little far off but they were still staring at you helplessly. You slowly took the strap out, watching as he let out a whine or protest that he probably didn’t even realize came out of his mouth. You smirked, rubbing his thighs now, “Good job, Xavier, did such a good job,” you said as you adjusted yourself. You leaned in, your tongue now licking a strip up his abs and collecting his fluid. Xavier shifted, letting out a few cute noises at the slight tickling feeling which turned into a sharp gasp. 

Your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, giving it a harsh suck as you cleaned it up. You didn’t remain there for long, popping off after a second. You just wanted to see him twitch from the sensitivity not actually work him towards another orgasm. With Xavier being somewhat clean you worked the harness off your body and tossed it to the ground of the room. It could be cleaned later, but for now your beautiful bunny needed you.

His legs had long since fallen from around your waist as you grabbed at his upper thighs, moving his body with you as you laid him on his side. You leaned up and gave him a quick kiss that he couldn’t even respond properly to. Instead of trying to get him to talk. You began pressing kisses on his forehead and cheeks, “Such a good boy for me, Xavie,” you murmured against him, smiling at how cute he looked. It took a couple of minutes before he seemed ready to respond, his eyes now tired and red.

“You good, Xavier?” you murmured as you adjusted him so he was securely wrapped up with you. His arms were around your waist and he dragged you closer to his chest, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

“Ya…” he muttered out, making you smirk. He seemed to finally be coming back to his senses which meant he was going to be extra cuddly, probably not letting you go for the entire night.

“Alright good…you know I still need to clean you up,” you pointed out and Xavier’s grip on you tightened, holding you like a stuffed animal. It seemed like your observation was right, you were going to be trapped here. You let out a small sigh as you readily accepted your fate, your hands wrapping around him and relaxing into his body. He didn’t even get a chance to say anything else as his body fell into a gentle sleep, completely spent from the activities.

I would like to apologize if there's any typos in here. I really wanted to get this out before work but there's literally almost 8k words here and there's no way I'd be able to finish rereading the entire thing.

[frigidwife]

i would like to ask ur opinion on this bc u are one of maybe 5-6 iwtv blogs that i trust and i don't know if i am simply biased but i think u are very thoughtful and fair in ur analysis of iwtv. because even among self-proclaimed louis lovers/understanders, i have seen the idea that louis "could not and would not" save claudia from the fire, or choose her over armand, or that louis was also abusive to claudia if not the Most abusive, or that he "let" lestat/armand destroy her. and i agree that louis failed claudia in some ways (though saying that feels much too vague at this point) and that liking characters doesn't mean apologizing for their flaws and i understand the reflex to spotlight claudia's mistreatment as many fans are so quick to dismiss her importance. but i think people get so caught up in emphasizing claudia's tragedy that they end up falling into victim-blaming rhetoric and ironically de-legitimizing really important aspects of her character and impact. so i wanted to ask though, how do you think louis actually did fail claudia? and should we call claudia's death louis' failure?

ty for valuing my opinion 🥹 i agree w you completely people emphasize claudia's tragedy at total expense of her personality...which sucks bc i love her personality...i think louis actually primarily failed claudia in the exact way that every single parent fails their child. if you've read frankenstein it's about the inherent monstrosity of creation--inherent hubris of creating something whether it's a creature, a work of art (the novel itself!), or a child (shelley's miscarriages and her relationship with her parents haunt the novel). you create something that is a part of you and a mirror of you, you confer your expectations as naturally as breathing, even with the best of intentions, but now the creature/novel/child exists outside of you, outside of your body and your imagination, autonomous, with desires and effects you couldn't have dreamt of, and there is something terrifying and painful in that chasm even in the best of conditions. and this is more broadly true of loving anyone. and in that sense i don't think louis's turning of claudia is really more selfish than having a child ever is. it's not an aberrant or evil desire. so that's one layer.

and then the next layer is the conditions. louis cannot stop seeing claudia as his daughter, even if he calls her sister. she'll always be his daughter. and again this is an almost fundamental condition of being a parent. even if ur parents make an effort--and louis is making an effort--to see you as equals, that foundation is underlying it and can't come undone. the problem is that normally, even if maybe you're always a baby to your mom deep down, you're also functionally an adult in the real world. but claudia is an adult who is constantly belittled and condescended to and treated as a child from all corners. so she goes from louis who can't see her as her own person because he cant stop being her parent to an outside world that can't see her as her own person bc it's structured to deny children's autonomy, and girls' in particular, and especially black girls'. AND THEN the abuse. “you chose lestat over her again and again” i think people take daniel as word of god a lot even when the show has demonstrated that daniel is less than careful talking and thinking about abuse, when it comes to both louis and claudia. Louis chooses to take lestat back, can’t kill him for good, chooses to commit to armand, tells her to put up with the coven’s abuse. those are choices that hurt claudia terribly. but they also exist in the context of abuse. over two decades of debilitating destroying violence and then a new man who tracks him down and dangles his and claudia’s life over him as penalty from the jump. louis is constantly calculating risk based on what they’ve experienced and the same way claudia’s trauma drives her into the waiting arms of a cult, louis’s means he sees enduring as his strongest means of survival . and even from before that from keeping his family afloat under jim crow —performance, self sacrifice at the expense of closeness with grace and paul; using “weakness to rise”. so when louis tells claudia to endure its bc he cannot imagine a way out. which is a failure sure and something claudia can and does resent him deeply for but is entirely and categorically different from what lestat and armand inflict on her . his “choosing armand” is never really about him liking armand particularly it’s him deciding he knows what’s best for both of them—again seeing claudia as his child—to the extent that he won’t even tell her about armand knowing their secret.

this isn’t selfless it’s foolish it’s prideful but the story very clearly is not Louis picking a man over his daughter. (claudia calls out what he wants in a companion in 2.01—“if he can’t call you pretty and take you ballroom dancing” Armand won’t even light his cigarette). i think people have constructed this narrative which funnily enough is the exact same one armand uses to gaslight louis with in 2.05 ("you threw around her name for cover, but you always went back to talking about him" or something like that). Which is really obviously a victim blaming narrative lol like the amount of joke posts that r essentially saying Maybe if louis wasn’t so cock hungry his daughter wouldn’t be dead. Okay?? i think its absolutely fucking insane to call her death louis's particular failure when she was lynched. by armand

and you can tell by episode 6 claudia has realized louis isn’t picking armand over her. her frustration with him is with this martyrdom that she never asked for or wanted, that clearly isn’t “you and me” either. Like you cannot tell me she believes “imagine me without the burden of her” means louis is happy and relieved to see her go Bc she’s not stupid and she’s seen him happy before. If she really thought he meant something like that she wouldn’t behave towards him as she does in the rest of ep 6 and doing the trial. completely ignoring her personality

there is also a hopefully really small subset of people who think pointing out how patriarchy works Is gender essentialism who posit louis as the primary perpetrator of misogynoir in order to justify their fundamental queer human right to call lestat femme . and then expect pats on the back for acknowledging #intersectionality . which is. absurd.

[jmliebert]

☆ how to charm Tom Riddle (but you're lowkey evil)☆

also known as ☆ Tom Riddle x Evil!Reader headcanons ☆

Tom is collected, always knowing the secrets and his role in this wicked world. No one can stop him—not even himself—as he marches down the path of destruction for all around him, including himself. Nothing surprises him in his meticulously calculated world, but you.

Hidden behind his impeccable manners and simple brilliance, Tom observes. A lot. One crisp evening, when all the notable Slytherins gather in the common room, he watches silently. Then he notices he’s not alone in his scrutiny. He sees you observing as well (of course, you must be from Slytherin), your eyes shimmering with brightness and something darker he can’t quite decipher, but nevertheless it catches his attention.

One day, he sees you arguing with someone and, naturally, he observes. Situations like that reveal a lot about a person, and once again, he’s (mildly) surprised. You don’t shout. You remain calm, collected, your voice relaxed, your face blank. But your mouth, oh, your mouth, spits words veiled with well-hidden hatred. You have a sharp tongue, but you don’t let your emotions get the better of you. He likes that. You have your own mind and are definitely not a mere follower.

You are a perfect studen as well. He sees you’re bright and handle things effortlessly. What intrigues Tom even more is that you don’t try to fit in. You don’t seek attention; you’re quite a loner really, minding your own business. You don’t need your peers' approval or a crowd of friends. You are your own person. This independence is important to Tom because he prefers to be in the spotlight while you are content in the shadows. There’s a saying: "There cannot be two dragons in one village," and it fits your dynamic perfectly i think.

And also I think he sees behind this independence of yours. Tom feels you are lonely and misunderstood just like him and perhaps that made him want to be closer.

One time Tom "accidentally" walks into the prefect's bathroom where you are bathing. Let me just say; he’s not a pervert; he just wants to provoke a reaction, to see something vulnerable in your eyes he can use against you. You’re in the water, thick fog filling the room, and you remain in your place, unashamed, your body glistening with water. “How can I help you, Tom?” you ask simply and a delicate smile plays on Tom lips at that.

You are a challenge. You know the game he plays, and it’s refreshing. Another significant factor is your fascination with the Dark Arts. You spend much time in the library’s restricted section, where your conversations deepen over shared interests. Tom is charmed to learn you collect cursed tokens and have a hidden liking for the grotesque. You are truly fascinating.

Before long, you’re performing dark magic rituals together—dark offerings and soul-binding spells. You cut your palms and share your blood, keeping your secrets to the grave. But you are still hard to break, your emotions hidden deep inside.

But sometimes, Tom manages to break through. When he does something you disapprove of, you maintain your composure in public. Yet, in secluded corners of the castle, you grab his neck and bite his lips until they bleed during kisses, showing that you do have feelings after all.

"Sometimes all I want is to ruin you."

Tom knows it’s not only lust and shared ambition that keep you close to him. You are strategic. You think ahead, coldly and calculated, which actually gives him peace. It's good to know that after all everyone is the same. That deep inside everyone is a monstrosity. That he can understand.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about Tom ♡here♡

[inkdemonapologist]

Way back before we got the BatDR trailer I had this wild theory -- basically, that the reason they couldn't show any concept art/trailers/etc was that BatDR was gonna pull a wizard of oz and suddenly be in colour partway through. So then that's why we were getting teasers like "look, its a model of A SHELF," because all the actual interesting stuff would've obviously been in colour and spoiled the surprise.

Part of the reason I thought this would work really well was that I assumed Nathan's acquisition of the Bendy IP and "revival" of the franchise in-world would be thematically relevant, rather than just... an excuse to have a second game. Like, Bendy is in new hands now, the cartoons are essentially being rebooted, and there's a LOT of thematic potential in that concept of Old vs New or the good and bad aspects of Change, and the idea that reviving Bendy in the real world would impact the ink realm was a fascinating concept to me. Now that we know the main thrust of the story........... actually I still think this could've worked with it? The sepia-toned Memory of Joey's Regret and the evil of the Ink Demon lingers over the studio and corrupts this new colourful world, while Wilson, the Man Who Killed The Ink Demon, is the one trying to forcibly extinguish these old stains and make the machine useful again.

Geez, you could tie Wilson's motivation in pretty directly actually if you dropped the ENTIRE thing where he says he's trying to BETTER THE WORLD THRU THE POWER OF THE MACHINE or whatever and instead just make him an actual janitor whose dad just gave him this bottom-tier job at his company. Give Nathan one audiolog about how his son is neglectful at work and its hard to find a job he can actually do or some such, and then you have Wilson as someone desperate to prove he deserves more. He sees his father's idolisation of Joey is naive, is able to realise the memory of Joey may be literally corrupting the business through the machine, and wants to eradicate that -- including Audrey, the most subtle infiltration of Joey Drew's influence. He's essentially the force of the New applied with no respect for the Old -- and then you could still give Wilson ties to that psychedelic neon ink from the Shipahoy battle; in fact, you could probably lean into it more: colour taken to the extreme, colour taken too far, something just as destructive as Joey's monochrome obsession.

(I've always loved the idea that Wilson isn't actually an artist and just stole the Shipahoy design while janitoring, which works great with the Shipahoy Monstrosity at the end being part crab because he couldn't actually create an isolated model to feed the machine... in this current era of The Threat Of AI Generation, the idea of wilson introducing a lot of mechanical innovation and incompetently dumping artwork into the machine to make new, too-colourful horrors in the interest of impressing his father while destroying all the old things these cartoons were first built on feels apropos lmao. obviously AI wasn't a huge talking point while BatDR was in production, but "ppl who assume more technology automatically makes art better while inadvertently destroying its heart" is extremely not new)

So the ink realm could be partially in colour (a world changed by the new cartoons), partially sepia (the infected memories of the old studio), and partially glowy neon (wilson's overzealous renovation). It'd be neat if Audrey became a bit of both -- partially colour, partially sepia -- and represented the new cartoons' ties to the old. Learning about the horrors that befell her father's old studio and the Gent technology that Wilson is now using are both relevant -- Joey's exploitation of actual artists who care was bad, and so is Wilson's complete disregard for the heart of these artists' work. The memory of Joey can't fix it because he is part of the problem -- he and the demon are the source of the monochrome infection -- so you have to be the one to bring heartfelt colour into this world, a power none of the others have; find a way to heal those trapped by old wrongs and restart the cycle in a better direction. Then, when Audrey says she wants to create a kinder cycle at the end, we have an idea of what that means and that she can do it b/c there's simple symbolism associated with it -- the new, colourful world that's neither corrupted by festering wrongs nor torn apart by Wilson's machines.

anyway. thats my half-baked idea. i still think its a shame that there WAS colour in there for like 2 seconds and they did NOTHING WITH IT!!!!

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Birthdays

Dicks starts a tradition, for every first birthday one of his loved ones spends with him, he gives them a part of his heart.

Jason: Dick isn't there for Jasons first birthday at the manor because well... he isn't exactly welcome at the manor but he snuck Jason his number weeks in advance to make sure Jay would be at his crappy apartment the day after his birthday. And he gives Jason a collection of poetry his mother had written while they had traveled around the world. He had memorised all of them many years ago but he wanted to give Jason something tangible to connect them together. He might not be related to Bruce, he might not be Jason's brother by law or blood but Jason carries the robin name and Mary Graysons words so he is Dick's brother no matter what Bruce wants to say about it. Some of the poems aren't in English but they all flow beautifully and are written in the same black swirling script. Jason cries real tears and clings to Dick because this isn't something he can say he's had before. When Jason died, Dick took it from Jays room because he didn't allow it to be part of a mausoleum for his brother he wasn't going to let it be part of one for his brother.

After Jason comes back to life, and he's left Gotham he finds that familiar notebook in a safe-house he was sure Nightwing didn't know about with a post-it note on top reading.

I'm so glad you're back little wing

-DG

Tim: Dick and Alfred celebrate Tims birthday alone and Dick knows that Tim is struggling with who he is and his place in the family. Jason needed connection Tim needed purpose. Tim needed something to do to prove his value so on Tim's 13th birthday Dick teaches him the quadruple summersault. he teaches Tim the Full-Twisting Shaposhnikova his mother's favourite move on the bars and the moors. They spend all day practicing together until Tim can do a loose approximation of as many of his parent's signature moves as they can squeeze into one day. And every time Dick sees Tim for the next two months he asks for a spotter and they spend two odd hours practicing the moves. Tim never ends up incorporating the Flying Grayson's moves into his fighting style but he starts to follow Dicks habit of getting up high when he's stressed and working out all his frustration by practicing those moves over and over again until his body is pleasantly sore. Sometimes when Dick is on undercover missions, Tim will do one of the routines to help with the fact he cant reach his brother.

Damian: canonically Dick gave Damian a trapeze bar but that was long into his Robin tenure I believe it was after the Lazarus island debacle. So I think that by the. time Damians 11th birthdays rolls around, Dick and Damian have a pretty solid relationship and the first thing Dick would have given Damian was his father's unfinished sketchbook which contained the original designs for the robin costume. This book is Thick and its not like a modern sketchbook no, John Grayson found this leather bound monstrosity in Egypt and paid pennies for it. Its so dense that its filled with about 3 years of drawings and still has more the half of its pages a yellowed blank canvas. Damian, who is naturally talented at art and was encouraged by Dick to try and find non-vigilante methods of enjoyment has already taken up drawing months prior but this gets him to start practicing with fervour. He tries hard to mimic John Grayson's art style before eventually giving up at trying to create identical pieces and just incorporates various techniques the man used. For Dicks birthday that year he gifts him a portrait of his late parents but unlike the ones he's made for the manor, Dick's parents are in motion, with his John Grayson's grin stolen right off his sons face and Mary Grayson's boisterous laugh as she crashed into her husbands side could be heard in the famous cackle of her son.

now I wanted to do Cass or Steph or (maybe even Babs or Kori if I wanted to pivot from family to romance) but I genuinely the girl who has Mary Graysons wedding ring would

Donna Troy: Dick Gave it to her when they were still wonder girl and boy wonder. They were 14 and it was right after they had started the titans, back when it was a kids club more than a hero organisation. It was accompanied with a whispered confession of his identity, an identity the rest of their team wouldn't learn for another to 2 years. She wears it around her neck with a simple gold chain. She didn't take it off during her wedding or funeral, she was buried in it and came back with its barely there weight a comfort against base of her neck.

[jakeyt]

Covet: Chapter 12 (Sneak Peek)

a/n:

hi, friends!

yet again, I deliver a 4,000 word 'sneak peek.' l m f a o.

like I've previously mentioned, the monstrosity that is Chapter 12 was initially part of Chapter 11. buuut due to these two being quite the stubborn pair, the chapters continue on their pattern of being much longer than the I anticipated. hopefully they tone down after chapter 12 comes out, but... there is no telling. lmao.

the chapter count has increased by like 2 (? I think.....) chapters, if you check out the masterlist you'll see that. the ideas just keep on coming on my long drives to work everyday, as I blast the playlist to this silly little story.

plz enjoy the cringe manip of Josh... I couldn't help making it. just had to see him in the booth at Jungle Juice for god knows what reason l o l.

Warnings: (as always: MDNI 18+); vivid recollection of unprotected p in v sex; self doubt; body image issues; sadness; heartache; pregnancy; mentions of infidelity (sry not sry, maya); as always, if i missed anything that is triggering to you, PLEASE lmk!

-🌼🌼🌼- 

Arguably, as you left that yoga class, you felt the most relaxed you had in a long while. 

Your belly was still heavy at your front, but everything else felt so loose. Weightless. It was nice.

Josh had decided afterwards that it was a good plan to get a couple of smoothies. And who were you to argue that? It was even more tempting since he’d offered to buy them.

The drive to and from all of your ventures had been nice. You two had listened to music most of the car ride – enjoying the soul music you’d both bonded over several years ago. 

But, as soon as “You’re All I Need To Get By” came on the shuffle, you quickly reached forward to skip past that one. And, it must have been your lucky day because as soon as that one was out of the way, the other song from that morning on the living room floor was playing. 

"(You Make Me Feel Like) A (motherfucking) Natural Woman", to your lovely surprise. Because why not?

The only songs you’d skipped and, of course, Josh had noticed. 

He’d snorted at you, making you glance in his direction. “What did Miss Aretha do to you?” 

“Nothing,” you shook your head with a lip stuck out. “Just didn’t feel like listening to those songs, I guess.”

I imagine your brother stark naked, inside of me, when I hear those songs, if you must know, you thought with a skip to your heart at the memory. And that’s just not what I need at the moment, Joshua.

And, with absolutely zero surprise, you were back in that damn living room. No point in skipping the songs, it seemed. The gray morning, rain pittering against the windows. The stupid idea you’d had, forever haunting your association with the Queen of Soul.

You’d just sat up on your elbows to watch him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

And, as he’d searched through the albums, you’d just let your mind wander, right along with your eyes. . .

His body was a work of art. Always would be. Your favorite work of art. 

His thighs, ever-muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage. 

That perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods. 

And his broad shoulders – strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he’d turned a bit towards you, you’d been given an image you’d never forget. His eyes, quickly scanning the back of a vinyl. And as he did so, your eyes had instantly found his straining dick. 

And, in the current moment, right next to his goddamned twin brother, you had to cross your damn legs at the thought of Jake’s dick. Fuck everything. Even if you shouldn't, all you wanted was Jacob Kiszka. All. You. Wanted. It was stupid to ever think you could convince yourself out of that particular desire. 

You could still imagine every detail from the morning. His tip, swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched in current time at the thought, remembering how he'd still glistened from your dripping center. 

He’d turned to you fully, the Aretha Franklin vinyl in his grip – her Greatest Hits. You’d found his eyes. They were questioning, but you hadn’t been able to focus entirely on his glance. No, you’d looked away from his eyes to admire your most favorite parts of his body. 

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck. They made you fucking weak.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle. 

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature. 

His aura would always be compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling amber-brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks – even longer now than then – and his sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in. 

(And control you with a simple snap of his fingers.)

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of.

And, in moments from the past, like the sacred one you were remembering. . . you remember wishing everyday – more than anything – that he was yours. Still wanted him to be yours. You could remember thinking. . . no matter how bad you could be for him, your selfish wants had you constantly feeling pulled towards Jake.

But. . . he wasn’t yours. Not then. Not now. 

And that bitter thought had helped to snap you out of your trance on that simplistic, perfect morning. You'd finally looked at him to answer. 

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

Your thighs pressed even closer together as you tapped out the beat of the current song on your thighs. A Minnie Riperton song. Just focus on Minnie. Tried to remember the moment you were currently in. . . But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Wait. Minnie. This song. You focused for a second. Was fucking "Memory Lane" playing? O-kay. Your life was truly hilarious. (Meaning, it was, in fact, not hilarious in the slightest.)

You tried to tune her out, rejecting the lyrics that hit far too close to home for your taste. But all that happened when you tuned her out, was Jake repeating the statement about your body. . . You could only hear those words from his mouth on repeat when you squeezed your eyes shut, so tightly.

With a gentle touch, you placed a hand to the bottom of your tummy to hold it. Your body now was nowhere near the same as it had been then. . . 

How the fuck would he talk about your body now? You knew how he felt about some of your newer assets. But. . . how would it feel now to hear him say things like that about your body? During sex? His dick, impossibly hard and leaking for your current, swollen body? Your belly, your bigger breasts? Your fuller thighs. . . Would he look at you the same during sex now? 

Fuck. Why were you even thinking like that?! You were imagining things that were only breaking your heart. . . Getting your mind in a dangerous space it did not need to be in.

Realizing it was slightly safer in your memories, you leaned back against your headrest to feel the rest of the moment.

You’d flushed at the words then. Even going the extra mile to roll your eyes. Tried your best to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Ridiculous attempt. With a peek briefly at the record, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He’d turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew he’d made the right choice. This record was something else.

And now, the Greatest Hits vinyl held your heart in ways you could’ve never imagined on that rainy morning.

You could remember how it felt to watch him – the intoxicating combination of seeing him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit. (If you know, you fucking know.)

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he’d said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you. So near to you and ready to resume sex with you. There'd been no constraints. No girlfriends. No ugly voice in the back of your head telling you how terrible you were for him. Things were still perfect. 

You’d smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.” 

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

God. You felt tears climbing your throat, right next to Josh, as you thought of his sweet face. The smile on his lips that could have cured every single piece of trauma ever. . . If you would have let it. He was so goddamn perfect. And you were. . . well. . . you.

Then, he’d come back to you. Laid on his back for you as you angled your body to straddle him, sinking onto him.

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He’d always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your center that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . . 

But, in moments like this one, with one hand holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world had always tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like the one from many mornings ago. . . Those moments had never failed to make a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation. 

And, as you’d listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

The song had perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had once been the bane of your existence, was now a light on your darkest days. 

And, in the present time. . . the father of your baby. Fuck.

As you’d glanced down to watch him, his hips had begun to move on their own – never failing to make you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him. 

Having him around made you feel . . . whole. Without even knowing or trying, he’d helped you find missing pieces to your puzzle. Found hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good pieces. Some bad pieces. But all necessary pieces of you. Pieces you’d forgotten even existed. And by simply being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man. 

As you’d continued riding him, you had leaned down on your forearms to get close to his face. His handsome, handsome face. You’d given him a long kiss. A kiss that you’d hoped, then, was able to say thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him. 

But when you’d separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you’d found the deep pools of his eyes that held so much of your world in them. And you’d known then that you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you’d whispered, hoping he’d understand as new tears had clouded your vision. Your hips were moving languidly at the perfect pace, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You’d been holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the beautiful, now-special song.

He’d held your gaze for more than a few moments, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You’d studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match the longing in your heart. Both of you had stayed there for a minute, taking the other in. 

You’d kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you’d focused on finding a release for you both. 

That hadn’t even been “You’re All I Need To Get By”. . . Not yet. No, that song, that blissful melody from your memory, was “You Make Me Feel (Like A Natural Woman)”. . . And that he did – he made you feel like the melodies of that song. Always would. He was every lyric of that song, sealed forever in your heart that way.

But the next song. . . When you’d fallen apart on top of him. And him, just barely pulling out in time, to finish onto your tummy. . . All while the song had been surrounding you, enveloping your senses. . .

“Y/n!” Josh’s voice called to you from the current moment, his fingers making you jump a bit, your eyes hurriedly blinking open as he continued to snap in front of your face. “Earth to y/n!”

Fuck. How were you going to explain getting lost like that? Thankfully, your eyes had been closed almost the entire time. You could just say you’d been sleeping. 

“I was just sleeping, Josh,” you lamely explained, looking to your right, hoping you were already at the cafe.

And, for once, fate had worked in your favor, as he’d just parallel parked at Jungle Juice. Perfect timing. Avoid avoid avoid.

You hadn’t missed the curious look in his eye after your barely-there explanation or the way he’d opened his mouth to begin to question you. But as soon as he’d parked, you were hopping out of that Jetta. 

-🌼🌼🌼-

You were just sitting down, pomegranate smoothie in hand, at a table inside. Josh was still at the counter, you having instantly put distance between the two of you. As you sat, your mind briefly drifted to the mundane task of taking a seat. You noticed how much easier than normal it was to simply sit comfortably, thanks to the yoga. 

Soon, Josh was sitting down across from you. And, after he took one tiny drink of his smoothie, he pushed it ahead of him with a huff. His fluffy mess of curls flowed around his head with the noise. 

There should’ve been no surprise when he didn’t drop what you'd started in the car. His ass had practically just touched his booth bench when he was asking you. “What the fuck is it with those songs?”

“What?” You crinkled your brow at that. He hadn’t ever been around before for you to skip past those songs. For all he knew, you’d literally fallen asleep after the relaxing yoga class. “Just didn’t feel like hearing them today. And I got tire–.”

“Jake gets weird when they come on, too. . .,” he interrupted with a raised brow, trailing off as if lost in thought while addressing you. “Specifically “You’re All I Need”,” he mumbled, sort of to himself as he looked down at the table. Then his eyes flashed back to yours. “And, no. You were not sleeping. Faker.”

Damn. Yeah, there was no explaining your way out of this one. Were you really going to have to be honest with him? It did not feel like the time – for more reasons than one. But you decided you’d say what you could. . . Maybe you could make him uncomfortable enough to move on. . .

“Jake and I just had some incredible sex to those songs,” you began, eyes not once leaving his. He held firm, even after that blatant statement. Okay. Second try. But you had to look down for this part, too embarrassed to look at Josh as you said it. “Got really close to making the baby that morning rather than the night we got high. He pulled out just in time to aim it on my bell–.”

“Noooo thanks,” the curly-headed twin stopped you, holding up a hand with his lips turned down. “That’s enough. Truly. Thank you, I now know what I need to know.”

You raised a brow, a tiny smirk on your lips as a laugh squeaked past your lips. “Joshua. You didn’t need to know any of that.”

“Well. . . maybe you’re right,” he surmised with another small sip from his green drink. 

“I usually am,” you answered, relieved that he’d gotten all he wanted – no, needed – to know. “So, how are things going with–?” “Also, you are not ‘usually right’, my dear,” he corrected you, air quotes and all. His nose twitched with his own grin as he watched you narrow your eyes in his direction. “I can tell you that right now. Your little speech from last night. . . You and Jake both. Fuck,” he snorted before taking another drink. He covered his mouth with a silent laugh before smoothing the hand down the side of his face. “Both of you are the worst liars to ever live.”

The breath you should’ve been breathing got stuck in your lungs. Where was he going with this? This had the potential to be an extremely embarrassing and awkward conversation you weren’t in the headspace to have. “What are you talking about, Josh?” 

“You and my twin, claiming you were ‘nothing’,” he began, lips quirked with a close-lipped grin and the air quotes coming out to play again with the word you’d both used to describe your situationship. “That all your relationship was was one night of meaningless sex that resulted in my niece or nephew.”

Niece, you silently added. You suddenly wanted to tell him really badly. But you would let Jake do that. Made a note to tell him he could do that whenever he was ready. 

“I just find it funny,” he finished, his mouth still curved into a smirk. “I’m pretty sure we all knew that you were lying out of your asses. Well. . . except for that Theo guy. He’s kind of a moron.”

How did you even respond to this? Did you lie? Confide? Half-heartedly agree? Completely avoid it and tell him you didn’t want to discuss it? Fuck if you knew. 

So, you just began talking. 

“How are you so confident in this assumption that we were lying about it being nothing?” You quizzed him, taking a drink to hide a little. “You didn’t even know that we were doing it while we were doing it. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you didn’t know because it was nothing more than sex?”

“Oh, y/n. How in the world can you begin to question my empathic tendencies? You know I’d sensed the difference in Jake,” he reminded you, noting back to your day of the first OB appointment. “And, the more I thought back on it, I remember there being a rise in your spirits during the summertime as well. . . Only towards the end of it did you get all mopey. When, I can only assume, you started doubting yourself and Jacob. Enough so that Jake wanted to host a night to raise your spirits. . .,” he trailed off, taking another drink before tapping a finger to his chin, sitting the cup on the table.

“But, yes. You were nothing, mhm,” he continued with a sardonic nod, closing his eyes briefly with a mischievous grin before he was looking at you again. “You both were noticeably different – good different. And he noticed every shift in your mood. . . You got emotional way back on the day of that first ultrasound when I brought up his relationship with Maya. . . Um, what else? Oh! The motherfucker takes you to therapy! Of course he does, because you feel safe with him. Big fucking deal, by the way. And, yes, I know all of this, y/n – I’m watchful. Don’t you argue that fact with me,” he pointed at you with a raised brow and a slight smile. “. . .But. You were nothing. Okay.”

Well. “I–.”

“And then last night,” Josh giggled, taking a sip of his smoothie before placing his hands on the table in excitement. “Jake had his hands up your shorts, touching you. . . like that in front of everyone–.” 

“It was a card he was playing, Jo–.”

“. . .Whispering in your ear, your fuckin’ body reacting to it. His bodily reaction to it – I mean, with an unfortunate glance downwards, anyone was privy to that situation in his pants,” he outwardly cringed, lips turned down as he shook his head at the thought. He’d been that noticeably hard? Fuck. “And then, going to the bathroom to relieve himself with everyone in the living room!” Josh couldn’t stop his wail of a laugh at the end of the last line, attracting multiple eyes from fellow customers at the sound. 

“Josh, be quiet–,” you tried to intervene, once again getting stopped with his rambling.

“Well, not everyone, per se. I wish Elsie could have experienced that shit,” he shook his head again, but this time with a laugh as if remembering a fond memory. “She would have gotten a kick out of the free porn!”

Free PORN?! Josh.

“Joshua!” You were stunned, his voice still a higher decibel than it should have been for a proper establishment like Jungle Juice. Voice hushed, you leaned towards him. “Please quiet the fuck down.”

He observed your expression, still cackling. But soon, it calmed down. Calmed down enough to where he was still letting out little huffs of laughter, but his eyes bulged a bit. He seemed to remember at that very moment that it wasn’t just the two of you. Face set straighter than before, he turned, looking around to hastily address the people near you with an apology. 

Meanwhile, your cheeks were positively burning at everything he’d said. How in the hell did you even begin to address that shit? And why was it always on you and never Jake? 

When he was facing you again, you decided to try that line. Just to gain your bearings. “Are you going to quiz Jake like this? Or is it only the emotional pregnant lady who’s getting the heat?”

“Oh, he got it first. I actually crashed his and Maya’s morning this morning,” he replied, waving it off. Your stomach dropped at the thought of them in bed together, like you knew it shouldn’t. “Well. . . if I can even phrase it as such. Maya was getting completely ignored by him. He’d separated himself as much as possible from her, his body was practically pushed against the wall. I know she noticed how far detached he was, though. . . She was looking his way when I barged in, a sad look on her face and everything. Poor thing. Didn’t take much for me to make her leave.”

The way you snorted at that was unstoppable. He what? “Josh! You made her leave?”

“Well, again – if I can even phrase it like that,” he shrugged, one hand waving nonchalantly in the air with a roll of his eyes. “Like I said, she was already awake when I went in. I think she’d just woken up to notice he’d pulled totally away from her,” he grit his teeth, baring them with a hiss as he shook his head. “So it didn’t take much more than me asking if I could please talk to my brother for her to leave. She was already kind of pissy, so she readily agreed. I’m sure she thought I was going to confront him about blatantly cheating on her in front of us all.”

Blatantly cheating. Harsh words. True words. You felt guilty at them. Because, yes, you’d completely joined in on Jake’s antics – helped him be unfaithful to her. To be fair, you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you tried. . . Hence your new determination to be nothing more than a friend. 

As much as it sucked.

“Did you? Confront him?” Was all you could croak out. 

“I did confront him about it, yes,” he nodded assuredly, his tone stern. Damn. Was he actually super pissed? Why had he been all giggly if he was so angry? 

So, you started apologizing. You felt really bad and you didn’t know what else to do. 

“I’m sorry, Josh. I don’t know what came over me. I just couldn’t–.”

“Help yourself?” 

You blinked with a nervous gulp. “Yes. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, of course not,” he replied, intonation light once again. You blinked again, this time in shock at the change in attitude. He continued before you could question it. “He couldn’t either, it seemed. There was no other reason for him to act so rashly in front of all of us.”

It was silent for a few seconds, your brain blanking on what to even respond to that. You were curious what he’d said to Jake. What Jake had responded. But you were scared to ask – didn’t want to make even more of an ass out of yourself by prying. 

Thankfully, Josh kept on before you could consider it any longer. “So, I told him this morning,” Yes! He was going to divulge. You tried not to look too interested. He cleared his throat, his eyes finding yours seriously, your stomach dropping at what he could have said. “I told him that if he’s going to do that shit, he needs to keep it out of Maya’s sight. Because, while I don’t condone cheating, I do condone my brother being happy. And hopefully, she’ll be out of the picture soon anyway, so the cheating won’t even have to be a thought. Keeping it out of her sight and all - won’t be an issue.”

Stunned. You were stunned. What the fuck?! Josh had told him what?!

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Your eyes, wide and expression shocked. The way your mouth hung open would have been more embarrassing had you been more aware of how much it gaped. But before you could give it much more thought, you were talking without thinking. 

“Excuse me?” You responded, rather loudly, you must say. "You told him what?!"

“Y/n!” Josh laughed, eyes bugged, pointing towards you before waving his hands theatrically around the restaurant. “‘Please quiet the fuck down.’”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: I, personally, value Josh's opinions on the matter...... what about you? ;)

also. free porn. l m a o.

Taglist:

@jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

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