#this took me longer than it should have. is this anything

[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of Leon act if someone younger than him approached him in a bar with ulterior motives? Would they flirt back? Would they take her to their bed without thinking twice? Would they think long and hard before agreeing? 👀 (ofc legal age gap xs)

Sorry if my English is not that good, happy 2025 btw !!!

Hii!

Happy 2025! Sorry it's like a week late lmao, I hope the first week hasn't been too bad...I'd love to do this for you

Warnings: Age-Gap, Drinking, Flirting, Teasing, NSFW , MDNI, Smut

GN!Reader

RE2:

You were both at a mutual house party, neither of you wanting to be there but were dragged there by friends

He assumed you were of age or at least close to drinking age, he didn't realize you were only 18

The age gap isn't that big, he's only 20 soon to be 21

But it felt wrong at first, especially when you were so open at first with flirting

He assumed it was the drink that flooded your system, giving you the liquid courage to flirt so openly

Since the age gap isn't too big I don't think he would be too bothered, after all it's only like 2-3years

Towards the end of the night he would offer to walk you back home. Is surprised you have a dorm room on your own

You invited him back first, he was hesitant opting to just chill and chat before doing anything

He's very careful with the situation, might even back out of it and opt to talk when you are sober. He's a sweetheart he doesn't want to hurt you

RE4R:

He wasn't sure why he ended up at the bar in the first place, it wasn't at this point in his life somewhere he often ended up. Opting peace and quiet instead of busy town life

Maybe he should more often when you sat next to him.

Conversation was easier with you, you didn't know about his job or the expectations he had to uphold.

When he found out your age, only around 6 years his junior it made him freeze

You were legal, had around 3 years to play with others and at least just hit drinking age

His silence made you feel like he wasn't interested, you apologized profoundly. It wasn't like you to be doing this anyway, your dickhead boyfriend broke up with you weeks ago

Leon grasped your arm preventing you from leaving, opting to get to know you better and making a choice as the bar closed which was only a few hours away

That only made the tension higher, the drunker you both got the more lingering touches

Til eventually he dragged you to his place

Infinite darkness:

You were one of the newer interns, one that had yet to discover his habits

He just didn't realize how young you were

It didn't really bother him too much, you assured him that his flirting didn't bother you and you in fact liked the attention

He offered you dinner and maybe a few drinks and it led from there

When it came to sex he did think harder, opting to make sure you were sure you wanted this

After that he kept making sure the entire way home, almost killed the mood but you understood his concern

Even then he chose to make sure you were comfortable within his space or that he was in yours

The make out sessions grow longer after each break until eventually you both caved

Damnation:

When you told him your age at first he took about 5 minutes to think about it before following you around the rest of the night

I feel like hes the type of guy to keep buying drinks because you are the only interesting person of his night

He gets drunk as well as reads the situation wrong assuming that you want to sleep with him

You didn't at first but then you do now

Follow him back to your place and his touches get more intimate in the cab

Pays for everything don't worry, at this point though he's sobered up enough to realize whats happening and will make sure you can full consent and show him id

Then you are locked in for the rest of the night, and he makes sure you know what the older guys fuck like

He doesn't want you to go back to a younger cock

RE6:

He gives me sugar daddy vibes anyway so I don't think he's bothered

Probably gives him a little bit of an ego that you even consider it to be honest

As soon as you touch him it's end game, you are going home with him. Even more of if your touches are intimate

If your hand is inching up his thigh he's smirking and moving it higher on purpose.

If you work together, say you are a younger agent or something he's touching you in the small of the back as he passes or guiding you with a hand on your hip

Any excuse to keep you close and remind you of his presence

Vendetta:

I think he would like it but he also craves closer intimate relationship with everyone so he would think about it and then act quite quickly

He's touching you first, leaning on you, hugging you

Wandering hands very quickly

He's begging you to come back with him if he's completely drunk

Like he just needs a quick fuck, you are cute and adorable

Huge size kink

He's rough and messy with kisses too, like he tastes of the drink he's been nursing all night but it feels good

In the morning afterwards I think he would feel a bit slimy, probably come back to him in waves how rough he was

Not the type to slip out before you wake up so he'll wait. Admiring the close contact of someone

Will ask for your number he's not the type for just one fuck

He likes coming back for seconds

Death Island:

At first he thought you were using him for free drinks (you kinda were but will never admit it)

You were cute, you made his cock twitch and it's been a long time since he's felt like that

When he found out about your age he was off put at first but then the more he thought about the more he wanted it

Made sure you gave complete consent as he moved quickly dragging you out of the bar

When you got to his place he was very content doing it on the couch

So were you, he had you riding him since you had the energy for it.

Muttering how perfect you were to him, sloppy kissing everywhere

Wakes up with an even bigger ego at the fact he can still score so low in age. Certified dilf

He won't go and find others unless you wanted him too

He's very keen on letting you know what a proper fuck is

[megalony]

Learn The Signs

A double posting today!!

This is my first time writing for Eddie Munson from Stranger Things, I hope you will all like it. Please send in any requests/ ideas to keep me going.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

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Main Masterlist

Summary: Eddie finds himself growing attached to the new girl who joins their table at lunch. And he learns a few things especially for her to make her feel included and to show his feelings for her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Eddie longer than it should have to realise that there was a new face sat at the table.

He had been stabbing his fork into what he presumed could only be mashed potato, although the colour was closer to grey than it was to fluffy cream and the taste didn't really resemble anything but some kind of bland powder. The meals were never inticing or tasty, but it was simply easier than having to go through the faff of making himself something at home and bringing it along or buying something and keeping it in his bag all morning. By lunch time whatever he brought would be warm, squished or simply inedible.

The slop on his plate was the only option, quite the same as what everyone else seemed to think. And Eddie spent a generous amount of time playing with the mash and pushing the peas around his plate before he glanced his eyes up from where he was sat at the far end of the table.

They all had their assigned seats, it was a silent but nevertheless binding agreement where they would all sit, and Eddie always sat right at the end. The head of the table. The leader of the freaks, as they had come to call themselves. Better say it themselves and say it with pride than let everyone else say it with a sneer.

So when he lifted his head and looked around the table in an effort to reengage with the conversation, he found an unfamiliar party member sat at the table with them.

A brow quirked up in surprise and his head inclined to the side as he stared across at the only girl sitting at their table. The only one who wasn't part of their so called group.

She stood out because she was the only girl sitting with five boys but with that fact aside, she seemed to blend in with them.

She had her cheek resting on her hand and her fingers seemed to be drumming a steady rhythm against her skin like she needed the stimulation to keep herself awake. Her other hand was toying with her sandwich like she wasn't really sure she could stomach it but she knew she would be hungry otherwise.

Her head was cast down looking at her plate and her shoulders were hunched forwards. It was as if she was sat with them, but she was secluded in her own little world at the same time.

Eddie studied her for a lot longer than he should have until the pieces finally clicked in his mind and he realised where he knew her from.

English. The one class that Eddie wasn't failing miserably- which was only thanks to playing DnD because he found it easy to conject those fantasy stories into some sense of coherence when he was in class. Plotting out different worlds and creating those stories were what got him a good enough grade in English to pass the class.

He didn't have the attention span for science. His energy wasn't put to good use in physical ed and he wasn't the smartest in maths, combined with how boring it was which led him to his bad grades.

But English was the one class Eddie was good at and didn't flunk and that was the class where he knew her face from. She sat in front of him in the next row, so Eddie always got to see her side profile when he aimlessly scanned the classroom once he'd finished his assignments.

"Brought a friend to dinner, Henderson?"

All eyes fell to Eddie and that slanted grin on his face as he pointed his fork in (Y/n)'s direction since she hadn't looked up from her plate when he spoke.

Eddie wasn't sure whether his knuckle-head bandmates had blankly hadn't noticed that there was a new person sitting at their table. Or whether they had noticed (Y/n) take a seat but not really figured out that it was someone new, not one of their usual group members.

Either way, the three of them looked over to where (Y/n) was sitting beside Dustin on the end of the table. Their eyes wide as confusion plastered across their faces.

"Oh, um, yeah, this is (Y/n). Is it okay if she sits with us?" Dustin knew he should have asked before telling (Y/n) it would be fine for her to sit with them, but he didn't think it would be a problem. Everyone seemed easy going when it came to accepting new people, after all they had taken Dustin and Mike under their wings immediately when Eddie sourced them out and gave them a place to feel welcomed.

Intrigue pooled in Eddie's eyes as he watched (Y/n). She still looked like she was ignoring them, like she was drifting off in her own world and hadn't even noticed a conversation had begun.

"I suppose, if she's one of us."

When he realised (Y/n) wasn't paying attention, Dustin swiftly prodded his elbow into her side and darted his head to the left in Eddie's direction.

(Y/n) lifted her head and scowled at Dustin when his pointy elbow prodded her chest. But when she realised where he was looking with those wide eyes and that certain look, she realised the rest of the table was looking at them. At her.

The sandwich in her hand flopped back down on the plate and she sat up a bit straighter. She looked around the table, but her eyes kept stopping when she looked at Eddie.

He was smiling, or rather smirking. Her eyes trained on his lips in case he started speaking but he didn't say anything. Instead, his tongue darted across his lower lip and stayed at the corner of his mouth for a few extra seconds. He knew she was watching his lips. He was toying with her.

Finally, he spoke. "Are you one of us?"

The way his smile widened made (Y/n)'s stomach flip and she couldn't quite tear her eyes away from his pale pink lips. She wanted to meet his gaze, she wanted to study every inch of him and get closer to him and take him in fully. She never got to look at him or really see him when they were in English class, and she rarely saw him outside of class either.

But from a distance, she could see a few details about him. (Y/n) could see he had a ring on almost every finger on both hands. She could see the beginning of a chain that disappeared beneath his Hellfire shirt. She noticed a tattoo on his right forearm where his sleeve was rolled up but she couldn't see what it was. She wanted to. She wanted to examine the ink and see what other ones he had hidden beneath those clothes.

(Y/n) wanted to know everything about him.

When her eyes finally managed to tear away from that smirk, she looked up to find her gaze captured with those intense brown eyes that seemed to be growing darker with each passing second.

"What are you?" Her voice was so quiet that Eddie could barely hear her, but still, he smiled.

He leaned forward, fork still in hand, elbows planted down on the table while he rose from his seat to lean over his tray and be closer. To be intimidating, to be daunting and see whether (Y/n) would back away in fear or stay with a smile.

"Broken configurations."

The way Eddie smiled obscured the way his lips moved. He spoke too quietly for (Y/n) to hear and his smile was too wide for her to work out what words he had spoken.

Her eyes narrowed before she turned her head to look at Dustin. She knew she didn't have to say a word for him to know she hadn't quite caught Eddie's words.

"Misfit, freak." (Y/n) knew that wasn't quite what Eddie had said, but she guessed Dustin was simply paraphrasing and whatever Eddie said must be close to what Dustin was implying.

So he wanted to know whether she was one of them or not. Whether she was a broken piece of society that had been pushed to one side.

Couldn't be judge that for himself? Did he really need (Y/n) to answer that?

A coy smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips as she reached down for her sandwich but her eyes never strayed far from Eddie who was still waiting, patiently, for her to give him an answer. "What do you think?"

Her answer clearly hit the right note with Eddie because he grinned, nodded his head towards her once, and then took his seat again.

"Oh, you can stay."

(Y/n) took a bite of her sandwich, satisfied that she wouldn't have to disappear and try to find a new table or a new set of friends to be around.

She wasn't in any of Dustin's classes but she knew him through Nancy and he had quickly become a close friend. Now he was out of middle school (Y/n) would see him more often. She passed him in the halls, saw him when they were each studying in the library and now he had asked if she wanted to join their table at lunch.

Eddie was partly the reason (Y/n) said yes. She didn't think he was the freak that everyone called him. From the little that she had seen and what she knew about him, Eddie seemed rather sweet. He was different, yes, but there was a sensitive side to him that pulled (Y/n) in.

She liked his charisma and how he wasn't afraid to be himself or be silly or make a statement either by what he said, what he wore or how he acted. If they would let her sit with them at lunch, (Y/n) would join them every day.

She took a bite of her sandwich, content that she wasn't an outsider or an invisible party at their table anymore. But her eyes quickly cast to her right and she jumped when she felt Dustin's hand patting her hip.

Her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes narrowed on him as she swatted his hand away, unsure what he was doing.

"Turn it on." He spoke quietly as he pointed to the pack that was hooked onto the waistband of her jeans.

With a grimace, (Y/n) pulled on the wire connected to the pack that looked very similar to a cassette player to show Dustin that the hearing aid wasn't even in her ear. It was tucked away safely in her pocket.

"Too loud." She muttered back while her eyes cast down to her plate when Dustin held his hands up in surrender.

She wasn't going to put her hearing aid in at lunch. (Y/n) didn't want to listen to the sound of people chewing and slurping and coughing as they hogged down their food. She didn't want to have fifty different conversations flooding her mind with hundreds of different tones and volumes and too many words for her to keep track of.

She wore her hearing aids in most of her classes, but sometimes she would turn it down so she could have some peace and quiet to herself.

Without the hearing aid, (Y/n)'s hearing was muffled, like a cassette on the lowest setting with a sock muffling the speaker. That was why when she turned it off, she relied on lip reading to understand what people were saying and what was going on around her.

One of the reasons she got along with Dustin so well was because he was the only one in the gang who knew sign language. He taught some to Mike and Max and Nancy knew the basics, but (Y/n) didn't need sign language very often. Although it was sometimes a relief not to have to focus so hard on reading lips when Dustin or anyone else used sign language with her.

Something struck Eddie's chest as he watched Dustin make some sort of gesture towards (Y/n), which she then reciprocated.

He hadn't known she used a hearing aid; he didn't know she was partially deaf. Really, he couldn't be blamed for that. They only shared one class together and the teacher never called on (Y/n) to answer questions- something Eddie thought was odd at the time.

He had seen the pack on her jeans but he assumed it was a cassette player, and he was sure he had seen her walking round school with headphones on. Maybe she wore them to disguise her hearing aid, or maybe she could hear music if it was on a certain volume.

The moment (Y/n) lifted her head, Eddie realised that he might just have been staring for a bit too long and he quickly ducked his head back down to face his tray instead. He didn't want to seem like a jerk or a creep caught staring at her and he certainly didn't want her to think bad of him when this was her first time sitting with them for lunch.

With her head angled back down to finish her sandwich, (Y/n) let her mind begin to wander while Dustin and Mike started talking about the latest DnD game they would be playing. (Y/n) understood the game and the rules and so on, but it wasn't her kind of thing. She was much like Nancy, she would tolerate the game and try to observe, but she wasn't one for joining in.

With her eyes on the last of her food and her hearing aid turned off, (Y/n) became lost in her own little world and subsequently missed the first part of the tangent that Eddie went off into.

It was only when she finished her food and raised her head to glance around the table that she noticed Eddie had moved.

He was no longer at at the head of the table like the father figure in a family meal. He was instead stood behind his bandmates, an arm looped around each of their shoulders and his head inclined to the side as he stared over at Mike and Dustin.

"…I am army crawling my way to a D in Miss Sloan's class."

The way his hands began to vibrate as he straightened up made him seem like he was suddenly fueled on adrenaline. Like he was a bag of popcorn that was about to pop and explode all over the hall.

(Y/n) liked the excitement that lit up Eddie's face as he spoke. She liked how he became animated so suddenly even though she wasn't sure what had been said to set him off on this tangent. And she liked the grin on his face that mixed with the seriousness in his eyes.

The way he sauntered past the table and moved into the centre of the hall made Eddie look like he owned every ounce of confidence in the school. He looked like he was putting on a show and he was the main star. There was something comforting yet extraordinary about him and his movements.

But when Eddie turned around, (Y/n) was suddenly blank. She couldn't follow the conversation when his back was to her. She couldn't make out what he said, her hearing aid was turned off and without it on, every voice was no louder than that of a mouse in a muffled corner of the room.

She wasn't sure what he said, or who exactly he was trying to swear at when he raised his hand. But she guessed it would be towards the rest of the students in their school or the teachers he didn't like or get along with.

It didn't matter what Eddie said- or the fact that he said he would be flipping off the principal- because to (Y/n), she could still read his enthusiasm and get the gist of what he was talking about. He was on the subject of leaving school.

It was no secret to anyone that Eddie had aged out of school despite the fact that he was still here. He had flunked twice already, this was his third time repeating this last year to try and graduate. (Y/n) hadn't been at this school for long and even she had figured that out. But it didn't bother Eddie. He didn't seem to care that he was trying again and again to graduate, all he cared about was managing to do it and to leave.

When she felt a tap on her shoulder, (Y/n) begrudgingly tore her eyes away from Eddie, who was now parading down the centre of the hall like he was performing in the school play. She looked to Dustin who was trying his best not to burst out into fits of laughter.

'He's going to get his diploma and run out of here.'

Dustin's sign language was a little rusty, he wasn't great at stringing sentences together, he was much better at single words and phrases. But he did his best because Eddie's commentary was too funny for (Y/n) to sit and not understand.

"Didn't you say that last year?"

"And the year before that?"

Eddie spun on his heels as his hands clenched into fists at his sides and he took a deep breath. He didn't need them interrupting his monologue or telling him what he already knew. So maybe he had been a bit too full of himself for the last two years. Maybe he thought he would scrape a diploma when he hadn't done enough work.

But this year was different. He would do it this time. He was so close, all he had to do was a bit of actual revising and he could pass these exams like a it was a fluke and he would be done with this place.

"Yeah, yeah and I was full of shit." He sneered with narrowed eyes and the tiniest smile on his face.

But as he sauntered back towards the table, his eyes narrowed and his chest tightened when he looked over at Dustin.

He watched Dustin point in his direction before the younger boy curled one hand into a fist and waved his other hand from left to right over the top of his fist like he was orchestrating music. But it didn't take Eddie long to work out what Dustin was doing. He was signing something.

There was something about the glee written across Dustin's face that put Eddie off guard as he watched him sign another word. His hand stayed clenched into a fist but his other hand then slapped down on top of his fist, pressing his thumb into the centre of his fist as his hand made a bang as it came down on his fist.

A grin lit up (Y/n)'s face as she looked from Dustin back to Eddie the moment Dustin signed 'full of shit' to her so she knew the whole monologue Eddie had gone off on.

"Henderson, what did you tell her?" Eddie rested his left hand down on the end of the table as he stooped over and pointed his other hand at Dustin before he planted his hand down on his hip.

The way he leaned over her caused (Y/n) to hold her breath deep within her lungs. She felt like she couldn't take one proper breath, let alone get her thoughts in order. She couldn't do anything except tilt her head back so she was looking up into those dark brown eyes that were burning through her and making her melt on the spot.

"I just relayed what you said."

"Full of shit, huh?" (Y/n) barely trusted her voice on a good day when she was at home, but somehow she gained the courage to try and speak now. After all, she had spent years figuring out how to judge her own tone and her pitch when she couldn't exactly hear what she said.

She figured she had whispered her words because no one looked at her or winced or tried to tell her to be quiet. But Eddie heard. She knew he heard by the way his grin spread wider and his eyes dilated as he stared down at her like he was ready to pounce.

"Not this year, I can feel it." He sounded a lot more sincere than he felt, usually it was pride and desperation pushing him when he talked about finishing school. Not today. He could just sense that this year was going to be different, that this was finally going to be his time. His year.

(Y/n) smiled softly when Eddie leaned closer and she folded her arms over the table as her elbow nudged against his palm. "This is your year."

"Our year, you're graduating too aren't you?"

So he did somewhat pay attention in class and to the people around him. He knew (Y/n) was going to be graduating too, and Eddie was in no doubt that she would pass with flying colours and wouldn't face the same struggles he did.

Her eyes followed him as he spun around and perched down on the table so his shoes were tapping and scraping the floor and his hands were now tapping on his thighs. He had a good sense of balance, keeping his back straight as he sat there like a perfect statue with his head angled in (Y/n)'s direction like she was the only person in the room. The only one worth looking at.

If she was going to be sitting at their table from now on, Eddie had a feeling this year was going to be even better.

Eddie didn't know sign language. Maybe he should learn some if (Y/n) was going to be a regular at their table.

***

A nervous grin lit up (Y/n)'s face when she approached the table in the dining hall. It had become second nature for (Y/n) to come and sit at Eddie's table during lunch. The group had taken to her as if she had been one of them since the dawn of time.

They made her feel included and welcome and they didn't make her feel like an outcast when she turned her hearing aid off. They all knew she preferred not to listen to the sounds in the dining hall that they themselves could automatically tune out and make sense of. It was habit now that when she sat down, (Y/n) pointed to her hearing aid before she turned it off and put it in her pocket.

The group would nod and proceed to talk slow and clear and make a point not to speak with their mouths full. Sometimes Dustin would sign a few things, just to make it easier, especially if someone was going off on a rant about something. But it was a normality for them all, they didn't make (Y/n) feel like she was being a burden on them like everyone else did, and that was what she loved about them.

Her fingers tapped nervously against her tray as she moved towards the table, her eyes solely focused on Eddie and Eddie alone. Dustin and Mike weren't at the table yet, they were still in line for their food. (Y/n) wondered how Eddie always managed to be the first one at the table, the first one with his food which seemed to be a priority for him more than getting to class on time.

But when she went towards her usual seat down the other end of the table, she paused when Eddie shook his head.

He wordlessly tilted his head down and drifted his eyes towards the seat next to him before he looked back over at (Y/n).

It took an extra amount of control to stop her hands from shaking and prevent the tray from falling to the floor when she realised what he was implying. Eddie wanted her to sit next to him.

He didn't want to keep sitting away from her. He didn't want to have to lean over the table to get her attention. He didn't want to be far away so that he couldn't even rest a hand on her arm. Eddie wanted (Y/n) as close as he could get her. He wanted her right next to him so he could smell that intoxicating perfume she wore. So he could see those pretty eyes that concentrated so much on his lips when he spoke. So he could see those blushing lips and simply be in her presence.

When he looked at the seat for a second time, (Y/n) found the will to move her legs. She didn't want to think or ask about what the others would say or do when they realised the seating arrangement had changed.

All she thought about was sitting down before Eddie changed his mind.

She set her tray down and took the seat on Eddie's left which would put her next to Mike when he and Dustin eventually turned up- if no one else decided to switch seats too.

Her fingers continued to drum against her tray but when she looked up at Eddie, she found a very sweet grin lighting up his face.

He set down the fork in his hand and leaned closer to her with those intriguing eyes that were sending shivers running up and down (Y/n)'s spine. She couldn't bring herself to look down to his lips when his eyes were locking her in place. She hoped whatever he said would be easy to figure out and wouldn't take much concentration.

Instead of saying anything, Eddie moved his hand instead. (Y/n) wasn't sure what he was doing or if he was doing his signature wave to her which he usually did whenever he saw her around. Which was happening more and more now. She bumped into him in the halls, he offered her rides home and seemed to linger everywhere (Y/n) looked. And she loved it.

Her eyes darted to look at his hand but what he did astounded her.

He pressed his hand near his head and pulled away like he was saluting her. But then he hovered his hand in front of his face with his thumb pointing near his chin, and curled his hand over into a fist like he was grabbing an invisible microphone.

'Hello beautiful.'

She couldn't believe it. He had learned some sign language. (Y/n) had no idea if Eddie had learned the basics, if he had become a sudden wizard or if he only learned certain phrases. Maybe that was the only phrase he had learnt, she had no idea, but it didn't matter.

All that mattered was that Eddie had made the effort. He didn't need to, (Y/n) could speak, she could use her hearing aid most of the time and she could read lips. Eddie didn't technically have to learn any sign language, but he had. He had done that. For her.

(Y/n) realised after a minute that she hadn't responded or made any move at all. She simply sat there with an open mouth and wide eyes, staring at Eddie like he had turned into an alien right in front of her.

If it hadn't been for the light that sparkled in (Y/n)'s eyes, Eddie would have started to panic that he had done that wrong and said something else. Something wrong. But the sparkle in her eyes and the slight quirk of her otherwise gaping mouth told Eddie that he had gotten that correct.

It was only a small sign, a simple gesture that had taken two minutes to learn and perfect, just like the other basic signs he had roughly practised and tried to memorise. Eddie thought it would be a good start to trying to become something more with (Y/n) if he learned some signs. This would show her that he was serious and that he wanted to make her comfortable.

Plus, he didn't like that Henderson was the only one who properly signed with her. Eddie wanted to be that person. He wanted to be the one she sat next to, the one she leaned against and signed with and smiled at. Eddie wanted to be everything to (Y/n), and he would do anything he could to make that happen.

"Didn't think I could do that, did you?" He whispered softly which caused (Y/n)'s gaping expression to change into a grin.

With a deep breath, (Y/n ) straightened up so she wasn't leaning so far forwards over the table anymore.

She raised her right hand to her temple and pulled her hand away in the salute sign Eddie had done moments earlier.

She then curled her fingers until only her index and middle fingers were extended and moved her fingers in a circular motion from her temple around to her chin. She prayed Eddie knew enough of the basics to know what she had just signed to him, or else it would be a little embarrassing to have to explain it to him.

A deep red blush tainted Eddie's cheeks and the end of his nose crinkled as his lips pursed into the cutest smile (Y/n) thought she had ever seen. It didn't matter how Eddie lowered his head or tried to dance his eyes around the table before he looked back to her. His hair didn't move and cover his blushing features and (Y/n) saw the bashfulness wash over him.

'Hi handsome.'

It didn't take Eddie long to figure out what that second sign was. No one had ever called him handsome before. When he was little a few girls called him cute. When he got older and found his punk look, some girls thought he was the spitting image of a bad boy and they seemed to like that.

Girls commented on his hair. They liked the rings on his fingers and he found a lot of people digged the tattoos on his skin. But there weren't many girls at school who could get past the 'freak' title he had been named.

The careless attitude he displayed, the willingness to speak out and act out and show his crazy side always pushed girls away.

And no one had called him handsome.

"Flatterer." Eddie somehow managed to find his voice, despite how breathless and flustered (Y/n) seemed to make him.

He leaned in close enough that he could smell that perfume she always wore which felt like a drug whenever Eddie inhaled that scent. He was so close that their noses were almost brushing and the only place he could look was into those eyes that acted as black holes, drawing him in.

If he just leaned in a little closer, that would be it, their lips would be touching and there would be no going back.

Eddie was desperate to lean in that little bit more, until a clatter of trays hit his ears and the sound vibrated through the table and caused (Y/n) to jolt. The pair of them leaned back, sitting up straight once again as their heads snapped to look at the rest of the table.

A sigh passed through Eddie's lips and his smile wavered as he slouched back in his seat, lettnig his knees part to the sides beneath the table as the rest of the group took their seats. Seemingly oblivious to the moment they had just ruined.

Although he did look to the left when he felt a small movement and he felt his heart jolt up into his throat when he noticed (Y/n) had inched closer to him. The movement was so subtle he almost thought he'd imagined it. But sure enough, her chair was that tiniest bit closer to his and it allowed her to slouch to her right and lean into Eddie's arm.

It was a small, subtle movement, testing the waters to make sure Eddie was alright with it. When he didn't pull away, (Y/n) allowed her cheek to rest on his arm and she tried not to smile too brightly. Being this close to Eddie felt like heaven.

When the conversation started flowing around the table, (Y/n) darted her eyes from left to right, making sure she was keeping track of what was being said and who was talking. She would admit that it was hard when she was this close to Eddie, and the only downside of sitting here was that she couldn't look at Eddie at the same time as she looked at everyone else. But she could read the social cues to guess when Eddie would chip into the conversation so she knew when to look up at him.

It was a small price to pay for being able to sit so close to the person she longed to be with. The person who clearly liked her presence, for (Y/n) felt his free hand drift beneath the table until his ring clad fingers were tracing along her thigh. It was a small movement, a light touch and his hand stayed near her knee, more for comfort than to actually distract her or push the boundaries too far.

The food wasn't up to much today and (Y/n) could barely touch it with how nervous and excited and fundamentally shaken Eddie was making her feel. She felt better leaning against him and simply smiling in a daze than trying to eat when her stomach was leaping and bounding towards her throat.

"So I thought for the next game maybe we could inv-" Mike cut himself off rather abruptly when a presence loomed near the end of the table.

All of them slowly turned to look and (Y/n) looked up to follow the line of attention to see Jason Carver stood at the end of the table. He had his food tray in his hands, it was clear he wasn't attempting to approach them or cause an argument, but something had made him stop.

"Oh look, the circus has a new freak."

Eddie felt the way (Y/n) bristled beside him and he hated the fact that Jason was staring at her directly. Trying to get a rise out of her, trying to make her feel strange and worthless and like an outcast when that was the opposite of what she was. She had found her place here, with them.

(Y/n) bound her arms around her waist beneath the table and subconsciously scooted closer to Eddie until their hips were practically glued together and she was almost sitting on his chair.

She was used to people making remarks, people glaring and leering. It was normal at her old school for people to talk jargon and pretend she was too stupid to understand what they said. Or for them to whisper and mouth words when her hearing aid was on so she thought it wasn't working.

Someone like Jason, some strange person who thought he was the best at everything, coming over and making a silly comment was nothing new. But that didn't make it any easier.

"Buzz off, Carver." Mike's words seemed to fall upon deaf ears, for Jason wasn't even looking at him.

He was looking at Eddie. He wanted to get a rise out of Eddie, the person he was always trying to rile up and pick on and call a freak. He wanted to see what Eddie would do and how defensive he would get over the only girl at their table being called out and picked on. Jason wanted to know if a little comment was enough to get Eddie's blood pumping.

And it was. That comment was enough to made his blood feel like it was turning to sludge in his veins and make him feel like the fires of Hell were beginning to consume him and make him sweat.

But the smile that splintered across Eddie's face made everyone at the table uneasy. They thought he would snarl, that he would climb up and walk across the tabletop- something he was accustomed to doing- they thought he would start a fight or sneer something back in anger.

No one thought he would sit there and smile.

All of them watched, (Y/n) included, as Eddie leaned forward in his seat until he was barely touching the edge of the chair. His head slowly drooped to the left and he let go of (Y/n)'s thigh so his elbows dug uncomfortably into the table top and his hands were visible.

With that sadistic smile still on his lips, Eddie held his left hand out with his fingers curled and only his index finger and his thumb sticking out in an L shape. He curled his right index finger and thumb into a circle like he was making an okay sign, and began slowly sliding his curled fingers over his left index finger like he was doing a strange magic trick.

(Y/n) couldn't help the broad smile that took over her features when she saw what Eddie was doing. Her chest expanded to the point her lungs and sides started to ache and her cheek flopped onto Eddie's arm as she watched the confusion plaster across Jason's face. Especially when Dustin started to snigger and the moment Dustin realised (Y/n) had started to copy the action, he did too.

It didn't take long before the whole table was copying the sign, even though only three of them actually knew what it meant. And the confusion was enough to cause the blood to flush to Jason's face. He knew he was being vexed, he could see they were taking the piss out of him and he gathered rather quickly that whatever they were doing was a message in sign language.

It wasn't until Jason stormed back to his own table and smashed his tray down on the table that everyone finally stopped signing and a deep cackle left Eddie's lips.

And Mike leaned across to Dustin with a grin that morphed pleasure and confusion. "What does it mean?"

"Fuck off." As soon as Dustin spoke, everyone around the table began to laugh. No one seemed to question how Eddie knew that sign or the fact that before today, they weren't sure he even understood what sign language was.

While the rest of the table were laughing, (Y/n) tilted her cheek back against Eddie's arm so she could look up at him. And she loved how he turned his head in her direction, causing his hair to brush along his face and become stuck between his cheek and shoulder. And the way he sank his teeth down into his bottom lip made (Y/n) shudder to her core.

"You've been practicing." The feeling of Eddie's arm looping over the back of her shoulders almost had (Y/n) melting in her seat and it caused her cheek to nudge and rest on his shoulder instead.

How didn't she guess that the swear words would be the first thing that Eddie learned to sign? It was in his nature, it suited him so well, it was what (Y/n) would of expected if she knew he had been thinking about learning signs.

"I've learned the basics."

Eddie loved the sound of (Y/n)'s laugh and the way she nuzzled her face into his shoulder made him tingle and spasm against her.

He hadn't learned much, but he couldn't begin to learn signs and not look up a few swear words. It would make him look more sophisticated at graduation if he flipped off the principal in sign language. He could get away with it better that way and have the added satisfaction of only having a few fellow friends understand what he was actually doing and implying.

As he tightened his arm around her shoulders, Eddie took the plunge and leaned forward to press a wet kiss against (Y/n)'s temple. And when she didn't pull away and instead pressed her hand against his chest, Eddie kept his lips there and closed his eyes.

Oh yes, this was going to be his year alright.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 7: Homecoming

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: who would have thought going home would have Granny playin match maker..

Welcome to the chapter 7 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

The plane ride back to Georgia felt longer than it should have. The weight of the past month pressed down on me as I stared out the window. Between the rumors, the growing connection with Paige, and the pressure of my final project, I needed a break. But more than that, my grandmother needed me.

When I walked into her cozy home, the scent of lavender and fresh cornbread greeted me like a warm hug. She was in her usual spot in the living room, knitting a quilt and wearing her signature smile, though she looked thinner than I remembered.

“Come here, baby,” she said, her voice still strong despite her frailty.

I dropped my bags and hugged her tightly. “Missed you, Granny.”

For the next few days, I tried to clear my mind. I helped around the house, took long walks through the fields behind Granny’s home, and even stayed off my phone. But no matter what I did, my thoughts kept drifting back to Paige.

Paige’s POV

I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into practice and didn’t see Y/N behind her camera. She always arrived early, her tripod already set up and ready to go.

“Where’s Y/N?” I asked KK as we stretched.

“She went home to Georgia for the week,” KK said, shooting me a look. “Coach told me her grandma’s sick, but I think she also needed a break from all the drama.”

That explanation didn’t sit right with me.

After practice, I went straight to Coach Geno’s office. “Can I talk to you?”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “What’s on your mind, Bueckers?”

“It’s about Y/N,” I admitted. “I think I need to check on her. I know my knee’s almost 100%, so maybe I could use this time to—”

He held up a hand, cutting me off. “I was going to suggest the same thing. Take the week. Rest your knee. And while you’re at it, make sure Y/N doesn’t quit on me.”

Two days later, I was on a plane to Georgia. The moment I landed, I reached out to her mom, who sounded delighted to hear from me.

“She’s been so down lately,” her mom said. “Maybe you can cheer her up. Come on over.”

The house was just as Y/N had described—modest, warm, and filled with love. Her mom greeted me with a hug, and her grandmother waved from her spot on the couch.

“She’s out back,” her mom said. “Go on, now.”

I found her sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the open field as the sun dipped below the horizon. She didn’t notice me at first, so I softly cleared my throat.

Her head whipped around, her eyes wide. “Paige? What are you doing here?”

“I heard you needed a break,” I said, sitting down beside her. “Thought I could help.”

Y/N’s POV

For hours, we talked about everything—our favorite childhood memories, the stress of college, and the whirlwind of the past month. Paige opened up about the pressure she felt as a super senior, the expectations that came with being Paige Bueckers.

“I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on the stars above.

“You didn’t,” I replied, resting my head on her shoulder. “If anything, you’ve made it easier.”

We stayed like that until the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon.

Later that afternoon, while I was out running errands with my mom, Granny and Paige sat on the back porch swing.

Paige’s POV

Granny handed me a glass of sweet tea, her sharp eyes studying me over the rim of her own glass.

“You like my granddaughter, don’t you?” she asked, her tone as casual as if she were asking about the weather.

I nearly choked on my tea. “I—I do,” I admitted. “But it’s not just about liking her. I respect her. She’s... special.”

“She is,” Granny agreed, her expression softening. “But she’s also stubborn. Gets it from me.”

I chuckled. “I’ve noticed.”

Granny leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly. “If you care about her, Paige, don’t let her run from this. From you. She’s been through a lot, but I see the way she lights up when she talks about you.”

I nodded, her words settling deep in my chest. “I won’t let her run.”

Granny patted my hand. “Good. Now, go on and help me bring in the laundry before Y/N gets back. She’ll fuss if she sees us out here working.”

That evening, as we sat around the dinner table, I felt something shift between us. Y/N’s walls were starting to come down, and for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 .... (more to be added)

[delilahsturniolo]

𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓’𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 — 𝒄.𝒔 ᥫ᭡⋆˚࿔

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 . . . 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 💌

in which . . . y/n and chris attend boston university, the both of you are always competing and bickering with each other academically. one day, chris suddenly asks you to help him make his ex jealous. the only problem is, you can’t stand each other. what happens when chris can no longer keep his true feelings about you a secret?

warnings . . . crying, cursing, more.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

one, two, three, four

you took a shaky breath, your body tense as you lifted your fist and knocked lightly on the door, anxiously waiting to be let in. chris had invited you and victoria over to work on the group project, and you weren’t looking forward to it one bit. you were nervous as fuck, and there was no doubt about it. you slightly jumped as the front door suddenly opened, chris standing there.

“hey, come in.” he told you, his voice softer than usual. you waved and gave him a somewhat genuine smile before you stepped in, taking off your shoes as you entered. you gripped the textbooks in your hands tightly, looking up at chris. “victoria here yet?” you asked, your tone dull but you were genuinely curious.

“yep, shes…upstairs in my room.” chris sighed, his voice coming out shakier than he intended it to be, it was silent for a moment before chris spoke up again. “i know things are, y’know…not so good between you and victoria. you don’t have to talk to her or anything if you’re uncomfortable, but she told me she feels really sorry.” chris explained to you.

bullshit, absolute bullshit. you couldn’t believe chris was even saying this to you in the first place, it sounded as if he pitied her in a way. “are you kidding me, chris? if she feels so sorry then why can’t she tell me that herself?” you scoffed, chris rubbed his eyes and groaned to himself.

“i don’t know, y/n. i don’t want any problems between you two while we do this, we’re supposed to work together on this project and i need you both to be civil with each other. you can talk to victoria about that after you both leave, but i need this project to be perfect, okay?” chris’s tone was firm and laced with annoyance and impatience as he spoke. chris needed a good grade on this project, and he wasn’t going to let you or victoria get in the way of that.

“fine then, i’ll be civil. i’ll be real civil.” you asserted, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders and marching up the steps. chris scoffed, following you up to his room reluctantly. he was worried about what would go down, he just hoped you’d keep it together and not blow up on victoria. you opened chris’s room door slowly, seeing victoria on chris’s bed, scrolling on her phone mindlessly while obnoxiously smacking her gum. at the sound of the door creaking open, victoria lifted her head up, watching as both you and chris walked into the room.

“oh, hey!” victoria expressed as she gave you the fakest smile known to man. you narrowed your eyes at her, muttering a small “hey” to her, making sure she heard the un-interest in your voice. you sat down on the floor, opening your laptop to get started. victoria slid off the bed and sat down near you and chris on the floor as well.

“so…” chris nervously laughed, trying to lighten the mood, the tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “what should we do first?” chris asked, turning his head to look at you. you opened a new google doc, replying to chris. “we should do a bit of research first.” chris nodded at your response, grabbing one of the textbooks and flipping through the pages.

“i love that idea! what if you guys do the research and i’ll be like…the manager! like y’know, make sure everything’s going good. ” victoria suggested, you and chris exchanged a look when those words came out of her mouth. you and chris shrugged at her idea, agreeing. it was honestly peaceful not having her interfere with the work and just sit there. you definitely would make sure she wouldn’t get the same grade as you and chris.

as time went on, you started to feel a little uncomfortable. chris and victoria were talking and laughing as if you weren’t even there, her high pitched laughs and the way she would occasionally smack chris’s arm playfully made your stomach churn with jealousy and disgust.

you shouldn’t have been upset though, this was supposed to be happening. chris and victoria were meant for each other, not you and chris. it was all so weird, you weren’t supposed to like chris, not at all. it felt different with him, good different. you could be yourself around him, he never failed to make you laugh, even though he pissed you off sometimes. you took a deep breath, trying to contain the urge to smack victoria. the deal was coming to an end soon, and you knew that. you knew chris would get back with victoria in a heartbeat, which made you sick to your stomach.

“i’m gonna go use the bathroom.” you abruptly spoke, not giving chris or victoria the chance to respond as you shut your laptop harshly and speed walked out the room and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. you huffed, propping your elbows against the counter and looking into the mirror. your eyes began to gloss over, fuck.

it hurt, knowing you couldn’t be with chris. it was all finally hitting you, you were finally realizing your feelings for chris. you didn’t even know if he felt the same way towards you. the love you had for chris felt forbidden, it felt so wrong. yet in your heart, so fucking right.

you sniffled, warm tears slowly beginning to spill down your cheeks. the boy you loved, the boy you loved for all your life without even really knowing it, was gone. you lost him, to another girl who didn’t deserve him. she didn’t deserve his kind heart, his funny and bubbly personality, his soft silky brown hair, his majestic blue eyes, him.

he was gone.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

[doberbutts]

i'm not black, but re: the whole assertion from people that men never have to fear going out, etc.

i'm a trans man, and haven't been able to be on T consistently in my time transitioning. i'm also 5'1", and just tend to look very young, despite being in my 30s. i've been mistaken for being a teenager multiple times.

something i don't really see talked about regarding this particular reality for adult trans men who are smaller and appear younger/haven't fully transitioned is the extent to which we can appear to be unattended minors, and how much that can make us a target for bad actors when out alone in public, especially after dark and in other situations.

this isn't even to get all 'stranger danger' or anything like that, but i really need people to understand how much more visibly vulnerable a lot of trans men can appear to be compared to the average cis man, and god forbid should anything happen to a trans man due to such circumstances it's going to be a lot harder for him to find support in the aftermath than it would be for a cis woman

I was actually just talking with a family member about the singular time I have ever needed to make sure a stranger saw that I was armed.

I was in college and walking home at like 1 or 2am and at that time a lot of students were reporting muggings on the same track I had to walk to get back to my apartment. At some point, I realized that the same man had been following nearly exactly 20ft behind me for about half a mile. I turned to look at him, very blatantly reached into my pocket and took out my knife, and then kept walking. When I checked a few moments later, he was no longer behind me.

Now yes, I was concerned about being mugged and beaten up. Not because I had anything particularly valuable on me- I was a broke college student with a mostly empty wallet and a shitty cell phone. But also, at the time I looked every bit the part for a 19 year old girl, and I did not want this guy to corner me or to know where I lived. I'd been taking self defense courses after class as offered for free by my college for this reason and to this day I go nowhere unarmed.

But it's okay!!! According to some people, I was never in danger and all I needed to do was tell him that I'm actually a trans man and thus it would be gay for him to assault me and he would have let me go on my way!!!

Anyway I have never needed to challenge someone like that again, but I do still keep a knife in my pocket and one in my car Just In Case.

[julieverne]

Jane was happy enough to accept the spare room Maura had offered after she lost the baby. However, she slept with the door closed and never responded to Maura's gentle knocks when she went past on the way to her own bedroom. She stayed out of the common spaces unless someone else was there.

It felt, Maura realised, like being alone. Only worse, since she wasn't. Her best friend was there, hurting, and she wouldn't let Maura in.

Maura knew her well. She could read Jane's guilt like a medical journal.

"I would have paid for an abortion," Maura said, when Angela had left and Jane hadn't quite struggled to her feet. "Somewhere no one knew you."

Jane looked at Maura like she'd struck Jane.

"I - I didn't - I don't -"

"You went in alone. You didn't call anyone."

"I called you! As soon as I could!"

"Not before you went in alone."

Maura watched Jane struggle a little longer, then offered her arm. Jane ignored her.

"It's a mortal sin," Jane hissed. She didn't meet Maura's eyes, just hobbled past her to the kitchen with her plate from dinner.

"Isn't everything, including sex with someone you aren't married to? Someone you didn't want a baby with."

"I didn't want -"

"Hmm?" Maura met Jane's eyes. Jane looked away, washing her hands.

"I wanted the baby. Not his baby, but a baby."

"Then why did you go in alone? Why did you take that risk?"

"I wore my vest."

"You put it on a child then attacked an armed man with a pipe."

Jane shrugged.

"I wanted the baby," Jane said again, her voice low. "And then you met Jack."

Maura's breath caught.

"You were engaged."

"I didn't want to be."

"Then why did you - the ring?"

"It was nice to be asked. I'm not the kind of woman men ask, you know? My job scared them. I scare them. And I was trying not to -"

"Not to what?"

"It's another cardinal sin," Jane said. She rubbed her hands, looking down at the scars. She rubbed the bullet wound on her stomach, then her back. Then she looked up at Maura. "It's a cardinal sin to want you the way I did."

Maura's breath caught again.

"Did?"

"Do," Jane breathed. She slumped, like she'd been holding that in. "But it doesn't matter. They'll forgive me getting pregnant to a man I wasn't married to. They'll forgive me that."

"But not for an abortion?"

Jane's eyes met Maura's.

"Not for loving you."

Maura took a step back; Jane's look was so tortured and raw. It changed to concern. Jane stepped forward, reaching for her, but her hand didn't land on Maura to steady her.

"I guess - I wanted the baby because I thought of it as yours. Because I'm yours, or I was, and then you found Jack and I'm nothing, I'm no one, and that's why I went in alone. I didn't care what happened to me. I cared what happened to Tasha. I didn't even think of the baby, since it was part of me. I'm not as sorry it's gone as I should be, either, because I had been thinking of you as the other parent, and since you have Jack I would have been the single mother of a baby I had with a man I didn't love."

"But you loved me?" Maura had never heard her own voice so low.

Jane nodded slowly.

"I didn't want to," she said, and strong, sturdy, emotionally constipated Jane started crying in Maura's kitchen. She'd saved Maura from Dennis and held her for hours, but when Maura stepped forward Jane stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I wanted that too," Maura said quietly. "The baby, I mean. The baby being ours. When you asked me to take it if anything happened to you -"

"I was too chicken shit to say what I meant."

"You're brave, Jane. You saved Tasha. You've saved me, more than once."

"You're worth it," Jane whispered. She met Maura's eyes. She was hunched forward, her eyes shimmering with tears. "You've always been worth it. And Tash - I wouldn't have wanted her hurt. She's such a good kid."

Maura nodded sadly, eyeing the distance between them. She picked up her phone.

"Jack? I can't do this any more. No, I know you're not a serial killer." She laughed; she'd always enjoyed him. She liked Jack, but she loved Jane. All of her, even the stupidity that had lost her a baby. "You'd still be willing to donate sperm? Yes, you were right. No, I know, you said she has the job in New Mexico. I think it's best - you are lovely." Maura hung up and looked at Jane, who looked nervous and hunted.

"I think it's too soon for you to try again," Maura said. "But if you do want a baby - a baby with me - you're not allowed to work in the field. You're too impulsive. I thought I didn't mind when it was someone else's baby. I can't -" Maura cut herself off. Jane came closer. "I'm not asking you to give up your job - I know how important it is to you. But if you did, you know. The option is there, but the condition is your personal safety."

"You didn't have to do that," Jane whispered. "He was nice. I liked him."

"I didn't love him. Not the way I love you. I want children with you."

"As a friend?"

Maura chuckled and saw something in Jane's entire countenance ease. The tension from pretending to be straight while Catholic, maybe.

"As someone who loves me the way I love you. Sinfully."

"I kept thinking - it can't be a sin. Not if - w-wait, love?"

"Always have, Jane," Maura said, watching emotions chase themselves across Jane's face. Elation, fear, joy, anxiety. "You know I don't believe in God or the church, so if it takes a little longer I don't mind. You're still healing."

"Maybe," Jane swallowed, her eyes wide and bright, "maybe you could kiss it better."

When Maura stepped closer she could almost feel Jane's anxiety as a tactile sensation. It was thrumming between them like a pulse.

"Where does it hurt?" she said, and her voice was husky in a way she'd never heard it. She raised trembling hands to Jane's waist. "You know there's no scientific basis -"

Jane kissed her argument right out of her mouth. And despite the lack of scientific basis for her proposal, Jane somehow managed to kiss it better.

[jomiddlemarch]

Silly things do cease to be silly

George Knightley was well aware the household staff at Hartfield had been much in favor of his engagement to Emma, even more so when they learnt the marriage would not lead to Emma’s departure from the estate but rather his stabilizing arrival, but he admitted to some surprise when he arrived in the afternoon for a visit and was positively hurried to the drawing room by the butler, a circumspect man of indeterminate age moving with the alacrity of a boy whose transgression was about to be found out by a stern nurse. 

“Godspeed, sir,” the man muttered before closing the door silently.

“My dear Emma—” he began, approaching her calmly, something of a feat given the way she was striding about the room, her curls bouncing with an unearthly energy, her hazel eyes wild. He’d never known India muslin could flap so dramatically.

“I’m being driven to distraction, Mr. Knightley, and I don’t see how I can bear it though I don’t see how it won’t be borne! I vow I’m likely to tear my hair out and scream myself hoarse and I know you shall tell me I’m not behaving with any degree of decorum, but the time for decorum is long, long gone!” she exclaimed, trembling beneath his hands when he took hold of hers in their usual greeting, shuddering when he pulled her into a gentle embrace. It was an indication of the vast affection he held for her that the sensation of her heaving bosom pressed to his chest, the hint of her slender waist he felt as he stroked her back only evoked tenderness in him, nothing libidinous. He told himself that, to keep anything remotely carnal at bay, and he also calculated the acreage he meant to plant with rye instead of barley and the projected profit if the market held.

“Don’t tear out your hair, darling Emma,” he said. “I’ve a particular fondness for those curls.”

“They’re fake. It takes Susan two hours with the irons or I’ve got to sleep in rags,” she murmured against his frock-coat. “My hair’s straight as a stick, another disappointment—”

“Nothing about you is a disappointment to me. Though I’m concerned to find you in such a state,” he said. “Is it happening too quickly? We might extend the engagement if that would set your mind at ease. I’ve waited long enough, I shouldn’t mind waiting longer if it would make you happy, dearest.”

“I should mind, most dreadfully,” she said. She looked up at him and for the thousandth time, he thought how her face looked like a flower. “And you shouldn’t wait any longer than the next fortnight. How I shall bear it, I cannot say—”

“What’s troubling you then?”

“The wedding-breakfast. And Papa,” she replied. “I have reviewed the menu with him a dozen times and he frets over something new each time. When I include all the dishes he suggests, the table groans and then he worries we’d all get sick from a surfeit of rich foods. When I make the menu very simple, very plain, barely more than an invalid’s board, he worries we’ll starve. And he won’t countenance anything made with lemon!”

George nodded. It was not a tremendous shock that Emma’s father, who was beset by anxieties most frequently related to meals and their relative risk to the health of all he held dear, would be distressed about the upcoming wedding-breakfast though George attributed Emma’s response to a bride’s nerves. What was called for then, was to remind her that she was to be a bride, his bride and then, his beloved wife.

“Why are you dismayed about the lemon?” he asked.

“Because it’s your favorite and now I’ve ruined it, for I meant to surprise you with lemon syllabub, and now you won’t have anything sweet you like,” Emma said.

It was obvious what he must do next, so he leaned down and kissed her frowning lips very softly, tasting her with more boldness than he had previously allowed himself, so that when they parted, the furrow in her brow was gone and the expression in her eyes was one of dazed wonder.

“I have everything sweet that I like already. And after the wedding-breakfast, I shan’t have to mind my manners when it comes to my appetite,” he said.

After she’d poured out the tea the housekeeper herself had brought in after ascertaining that Miss Woodhouse would like to offer Mr. Knightley some refreshment but before she’d taken a sip from her own cup, George spoke.

“I also quite enjoy honey.”

“Isn’t that rather sticky?” Emma said, her eyes nearly amber, but so marvelously innocent. “I always get some on my fingers and then I’ve got to lick it off.”

“Indeed,” George said. “I’ve often found myself in the same situation. We shall need to help each other, won’t we?”

Written for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month, Day 10, prompt: wedding-breakfast

[valgodd]

What if you took care of me recovering from top surgery, and I got a little tubby??

You cook me rich food to fascilitate my healing, and whenever I make an attempt to get up from the plush arm chair and get a book from the shelf, you gently push me back down and get it for me (”the doc said no straining activities dear”). There is always a bowl of snacks to munch on within an arms reach, and you dutifully refill it throughout the day. And boy, am I happy to munch, now that I have less dysphoria after finally chopping off those boobs. After a life time of restraining myself to keep a boyish figure, its so freeing to let go. I basically inhale everything you put in front of me. Since I used to be on the brink of starvation, piling on the pounds goes quite fast. Every time you help me change the bandages, I’m a little bigger than the time before. Being tactful, you don’t say anything out loud, though I notice your hand lingering a little longer than necessary on my belly when you unwrap the bandages, and your fingers accidently brushing against my lovehandles as you put ointment on my scars. After a month of recovery under your care, you give my growing belly a teasing pinch. ”Someones been enjoying their time off” you say with a knowing smirk. ”Yeah well… its been nice having you dote on me” I murmur. ”I should think so. Maybe even a little too nice hm?”

I feel so round and helpless.

[imagineiwrotesomethingwell]

'Goddess'

wc: 7,987 words content warnings: slow burn but not too bad, smut, afab reader (reader is referred to as a wife, queen, and woman multiple times), male masturbation, oral (both receiving), fingering (f receiving), mating bond, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), something that might constitute as cum play???, overstim, mild dacryphilia, body worship, marking kink implied, cockwarming (?)

@allbymyself17 i am so so sorry this took so long, thank you for being patient with me 🙏

“The girl, in exchange for the tesseract,” Surtur booms, his voice deep and menacing as it rolls through the golden city. “She’d make a fine wife for one of your boys, aye, Odin? She’s got those birthing hips. A perfect breeder.”

You, held in Surtur’s massive paw, are too terrified to be offended.

Your day had started largely normal; breakfast with a friend, a stroll through the streets of your small town. But something had opened up beneath you, sucking you in, sucking you through dimensions, entire worlds. If you’d ended up damn near anywhere else, you’d be awed. But right now, you’re in the clutches of an 8,000 year old fire monster, high above Asgard, terror pulsing through your veins.

He seems to be using you as a bargaining chip, like these people know you, owe you something. But you’re too high up to hear much of anything until a raven-haired man floats up before you. 

He’s exquisite, though you’re unwilling to say it aloud. He looks just the same as when you’d seen him on the news a few years ago after trying to take over the world; well, maybe not just the same. His hair is longer now, and he looks less cocky, more… tired. His helmet’s different- the horns are smaller now. And when he meets your eyes, their icy blue is filled with a soft sympathy. You’d scoff if you weren’t so frightened; Loki, the god who’d killed hundreds in the attack on New York alone, was sympathetic to you. Wow.

But he’s quickly joined by a much older god and his brother, Thor. Thor you knew from the news, too, but this old man -worn, aged, long grey hair and an eyepatch, mouth set in a stern line that makes you wonder if he ever smiled- you didn’t recognize him. But you assumed he was the Odin that Surtur had been addressing, and his one eye surveyed you like you were a piece of meat rather than a human.

“Deal,” Odin boomed back, and your stomach sank. Loki’s eyes went wide in response and he turned to the older god incredulously. Thor just seemed upset about this tesseract thing. Neither spoke, though, and Odin continued. “Give us the girl and we’ll give you the tesseract.”

And suddenly you’re falling. You’re screaming. Hurtling towards the flames that lick at Surtur’s legs. Your heart is in your throat and you’re certain the demon is still holding your stomach.

But just as quickly as Surtur’d dropped you, Loki caught you. You clung to him like a lifeline, a soft sob wrenching from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on for dear life. And you know you should be afraid - this is the man who tried to enslave all of humanity, after all. But despite yourself, he feels… safe.

There’s an awful sound, like metal tearing, and then a deep, guttural cry of agony as Thor and Odin wrench the crown off Surtur’s head and the fire demon crumbles to ash. You see none of this, though, too busy crying into the neck of the god who caught you to fully process what’s going on. You’ll have to ask later (which, of course, means it’ll get more and more dramatic with each telling).

Loki carried you to the ground, holding you tightly; one arm under your knees, the other behind your back to hold you steady. He smelled good, though. Like smoke and petrichor and cinnamon. Autumn. You took comfort in it, let yourself be held, even as the trickster lighted on the dirtied cobblestones of his home city. 

He made no move to put you down.

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Odin, on the other hand, had barely made it to the street before he’d begun shouting orders. You heard some things in a language you didn’t understand, and suddenly, everything was moving so fast. 

Before you really could process, before you’d even stopped crying, your feet were on the ground. You were torn from Loki’s arms by a group of bustling, tutting ladies, all seeming very eager to get you out of the torn-down square. Loki looked as disconcerted as you felt, though you hoped you masked it better than him. He watched after you, his hand outstretched and his lips parted as if to call to you. But… How could he? He didn’t even know your name. You’d lost him in the crowd as the ladies led you away, their matching rose-colored gowns dragging through the debris as they huddled you towards the castle. 

No one answered you when you asked what was happening, when you begged to go home. When the ladies had cooed at you in that language you didn’t understand and stripped you of your ash-covered jumper and jeans. They ran you a bath and you’d cried in it as they washed you, vigorous yet gentle. 

But you kept thinking about Loki, even as you thought of the family and friends you didn’t know if you’d ever see again. You thought of his scent of soft autumn comfort while you thought about that stray cat you feed sometimes. You thought of his piercing blue gaze as you thought about the concert plans with your best friend that you wondered if you’d ever make. 

You were still thinking about him when the ladies wrangled you into a red gown that accentuated your curves. You thought about how his arms felt around you, how his fingers felt when they’d run over your jumper as you’d been pulled away. You were lost in thought, in a strange feeling that’d built up in your chest since you’d left Loki in the rubble of this golden city. You wondered why you’d felt so safe in his arms.

One of the ladies painted your lips and eyes, another wove flowers into your hair, and a third painted your nails a sparkling, galaxy-like black that shone a thousand colors when the light shifted. All thoughts of the trickster god had momentarily flown from your mind when you’d seen your reflection.

That’s where you are now, staring at yourself in that flowing, crimson gown while you try to make sense of the afternoon and evening after Surtur’s apparent defeat. The ladies have long since left, clearly done with their work on you.

You run your fingers over the chiffon sleeves and layers on the dress, your mind spinning. You look incredible, you really do. They’d done something to your eyes that made them pop in the most exquisite way, and your every insecurity was drowned out by the gorgeous, elaborate costume that accentuates your chest and hips deliciously. Every motion has the embroidered crystal beads on the corseted bodice catching in the firelight and the skirt swishes around your ankles with the most lovely, satisfying sound. You’re admiring it when you hear the door open.

You turn to find yourself locked into that piercing blue gaze, and that feeling in your chest multiplies tenfold. Your breath catches as your eyes trail over him, and you hate the way your heart speeds up, just a little bit.

He, too, is wearing crimson, but it’s a version of his armor. You assume it’s something similar to human soldiers wearing their dress uniforms for their weddings and special occasions. His horned helmet/visor/headband/thing is in his hand at his side and his hair is falling around his face in silky, ebony waves. He looks- well, he looks like a prince, which you suppose he is, isn’t he?

It’s infuriating.

“You look incredible,” he says softly, his eyes trailing over you appreciatively. His eyes are wide and he looks almost awed, but you discard the urge to preen. He’s a prince, after all. He’s probably trying to get in your pants.

“What am I doing here?” you reply, your voice curt and cold. May this very well get you beheaded? Yes, possibly. But… no buts. Cool yourself. Jesus Christ. So you tack on, “Sir,” at the end, because you’ve never been in front of royalty before! How are you meant to address him?

He chuckles softly, and that thing in your chest happens again. “Please, don’t call me sir,” he says, stepping closer but keeping his distance. Playing the perfect gentleman. “Just Loki. And… No one told you?”

Your brow pinches and you reach a hand up to your throat instinctively. You grip the small pendant of your necklace, using the semi-sharp edge of the stone to ground yourself. “No one told me anything.”

He looks put out at that, his own brow pinching for a moment as he thinks. But then his face smooths once more and his eyes find yours. “What’s your name?”

“Answer my question first,” you challenge, keeping your chin high despite the way your defiance frightens you slightly. He just nods, though.

“You’re to be wed.”

Your heart stops. You feel it stop. And then you’re all but shrieking his words back at him, and everything is going far too fast. Your heart goes from stopped to a million miles an hour in seconds, and your mind does the same. You’re panicking, on the verge of some kind of attack, and you’re unaware of everything around you. Your breathing is too fast and your hands are shaking and the walls are closing in, aren’t they? It’s so dark and everything feels wrong and fuck why does your skin feel like that? I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t-

And then there’s a hand on your shoulder, and that warmth in your chest spreads everywhere. It’s like you’ve drunk too much wine, but in the best way. Warm and fuzzy and soft, everything feels like it could be good now. Your mind is quiet and your body is still, your thoughts serene and your breathing calm. When you open your eyes, they’re wonder-filled and wild, perfectly mirroring the icy gaze across from you.

“Breathe, Little Fox,” Loki whispers, his hand never straying from your shoulder. Never touching your skin, never pushing his limits. But his chest is heaving, too, and his eyes are wide and tinged with something almost… dark. Dark, but not frightening.

The moment ends all too soon as Loki steps back and away, his hand dropping down to his side. Your skin tingles where his warmth had been, and by the way he’s rubbing his fingers together, you think it feels the same for him.

“What’s your name?” he asks again, his voice softer this time. Almost… small. His eyes seem to light up when you whisper it, still confused and half in shock, and he repeats it. It sounds almost reverent, and it does something funny to your stomach to hear your name fall off his tongue.

Fuck.

“Why am I- ‘to be wed’?” you ask softly once your heart rate has returned to something normal. 

He opens his mouth for a second and closes it, furrowing his eyebrows. “Do you want the simple answer or the complex one?” he asks, and you’re close enough to smell him once more. He smells less like smoke now, but you find you miss it.

“Simple,” you murmur, pushing away thoughts of the god’s smell.

He lifts his hand, pressing it against the center of his own chest. “Do you feel that? In here? The warmth that’s been here since you arrived in Asgard.”

You look down at his hand, the kind of hand that would have normally had you texting your friends while squealing in your bed about the sinful things you intended to do to the man attached. 

Fuck, now you’re thinking about his hands? Jesus, you need help. Fuck.

You shake it off and nod, returning your gaze to his eyes, ignoring the way you can feel your cheeks heat. You just pray he can’t see it.

He smiles slightly, and you catch his gaze flick for half a second from your face to your chest. Just for a moment, but you catch it, and you only blush deeper. And of course his smile grows, and you realize he’s enjoying flustering you. This should be fun. Not.

“What is it?” you prompt, clearing your throat and shifting on your feet. You swear his eyes glow for a moment, but it’s gone before you can blink.

“Short and simple answer, darling, is that Asgardians mate for life,” he all but purrs. “And you are my mate, Little Fox.”

You scowl, but your heart races. Because fuck that voice… He knows what he’s doing. So you glare at him. “And if I don’t marry you?”

His smile falters for a moment, something sympathetic passing over his features. “That… Asgardian law is very clear on this. I’m afraid you have no choice, darling. Having said that, the law does not extend to anything past a wedding. It must be had within a week of the bond being found, but there is no time constraint on… consummation.”

You flush, feeling your neck and ears burn at the implication of your words. And of course your brain goes to all sorts of wicked places, places where you wonder what else that silver tongue of his can do, be it in your ear or between your- oh my god you’re so fucking screwed.

“I’m not Asgardian,” you argue, trying not to let your sinful thoughts show. You swear he knows, though. It’s bullshit.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, firm but gentle. “You are my mate, and you are to be my wife. My father has already prepared everything, and my mother will be here in a moment to explain to you the vows and traditions.” 

With that, he steps back away from you, and that warmth in your chest dulls a little. You don’t like it, but you bite your tongue. When he reaches the door, he turns back to look at you for a moment.

“For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “you really do look exquisite. And- and I’m sorry.” He’s gone before you can respond.

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Frigga is a good woman. She’s got kind eyes, and you love her immediately. You decide that she’ll be an easy person to care for, even in this new place you seem to be… stuck in. 

The wedding went off without a hitch. You’d managed to not vomit or flee as you’d spoken the words, as they’d tied that cloth over your hands. Holding Loki’s hands, though, felt like heaven. Which is weird. Because it’s fucking hand holding. But it made that thing in your chest -the bond, evidently- get all happy and fuzzy, and it nearly bubbled over.

Loki seemed to have had the same reaction, too, because he was fighting a smile all through the wedding and the reception, during which you did drink too much wine.

By the mercy of some god (definitely not Odin), you’d woken alone and fully clothed, which told you two things. One, that you’d not been able to untie the bodice of the gown, and two, that your husband had said “nope, she’s drunk, ain’t happening”, which you found comforting.

Because as the days after your wedding passed, as you came to learn the halls of the castle and the names of the servants and maids and guards, you remembered bits and pieces of your drunken haze. In which you did, in fact, attempt to bed your husband. It was a sloppy attempt, with a shitty human pickup line, but it had made him blush, and as humiliating as the memories were, you held on to the one of him flushing. 

You ate dinner with him every night, mostly in your bedchambers because he didn’t seem the type for formal dining. He liked to sit at the foot of your bed to eat while you sat on the bed and did the same. And you found yourselves talking each night. For hours.

Loki was easy to talk to, which you found surprising. You mentioned this to him once, but he’d just waved it off and changed the topic, trying and failing to hide the blush that you so loved. You learned that night that he’s fairly bad at taking compliments from everyone but his mother, and you quite enjoy watching him become flustered from something as simple as noting how the tunic he wore complimented his eyes.

You talked about everything and nothing at all. You learned about him, his family, his court. He taught you Asgardian laws and you shared your favorite stupid human laws. He brought games, too, finding human games to be far more fun than Asgardian ones. (“Ours all have swords and knives, I quite like this… fish game. Go fish!”) And the more you talked, the warmer the bond felt in your chest. It never became uncomfortable until he left for his own bed each night. 

You hated it then. You hated lying awake, staring at the ceiling, that strange buzzing filling your chest, your body, your cunt. Hated not knowing if it took as much for him to settle down as it did for you. Hated the way you knew where his bedchambers were but had never dared cross the threshold after his lights were out. Hated how you came each night on your own hand, with his name on your lips, wishing he were filling you, knowing for a fact that he’d reach every spot you couldn’t.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you’d been a wife for three months. And yet every night, he slept in his own room. 

You’re sick of it.

“Stay here tonight,” you say confidently -though you feel anything but- as he piles up the empty bowls from the desserts you’d stolen from the kitchens. Loki’s hands faltered and the bowls nearly toppled, but he caught them just in time. Your chest swells with pride at the idea that maybe, just maybe, you have the same effect on him that he has on you.

“I can’t do that,” he replies. His voice sounds different than it had a moment ago. Rougher.

“Why not?” you ask, keeping up the false confidence to hide the slight nerves. Hell, not slight. Fuck, does he not think you’re pretty anymore? Did he just like the gown? No, that must not be it, he compliments you every day. So what-

“Because I have enough trouble controlling myself as it is, Little Fox,” he says, and his voice is definitely rough now. His back is to you and you can see how tense his shoulders are.

You flush, though, because… Clearly he still thinks you’re pretty. So you switch tactics, because at this point, you don’t want to spend another night alone. The bond is always pulling so hard, making you ache for him.

“Loki,” you whisper, rising to your knees on the side of the bed. You reach out with a surprisingly steady hand and rest it on his shoulder, feeling his breath hitch, feeling the bond twitch inside you. “Please. I don’t want to sleep without you.”

Before the bowls have even hit the ground, his lips are on yours. You register the crash and shatter of the ceramic, but your hands are in his hair and you don’t care.

He tastes like cinnamon and apples, like the pie you’d both devoured. But there’s something else, too, something you can taste when his fingers tangle in your hair and tug your head back slightly, using the new angle to sweep his tongue into the deepest crevices of your mouth, something purely Loki. You whimper, and he swallows it with a groan, stepping closer and pressing his body flush against yours. The hand not in your hair grips your hip, kneading gently as he holds you in place against him.

His hair feels like silk between your fingers and you tug, too, and you’re rewarded with the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard. You tug again, this time using your body to pull him over you. He complies with a growl, and you whimper again as he cradles your head ever so gently, laying you back so carefully against the pillows. His lips never leave yours as his body cages you in. His knees are on either side of your hips and the hand that’s not on your head traces gently up your side, always stopping just short of your breast. 

You kiss him hungrily, greedily. Your hands roam recklessly, all care for propriety gone because fuck the bond is so strong and all it wants is more and you whine in frustration as his thumb brushes your ribs again without going all the way. 

“Please,” you gasp against his lips, dragging the lower between your teeth before releasing it gently. “Touch me, Loki. I need it. I need you.”

He pulls away just enough to look at you, and you hardly recognize the man above you. His eyes are wild, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see the blue. “I can’t,” he growls softly, his chest heaving against yours. “There are things you don’t know yet.”

“Then tell me,” you beg, fingers clawing at the buttons of his shirt. He growls and his hand leaves your hair, making you whine again at the loss. Quickly, he grabs your hands in his one and pins them above your head, the hand on your ribs tightening.

“Don’t push me, Little Fox,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. His hand never loosens around your wrists as he whispers, “humans react differently to godly spend. Ordinarily, it’d just be a powerful aphrodisiac. But you’re my mate, so that’s not how it’ll work.”

You’re trying to pay attention, really you are, but you can taste his breath on your lips and you can’t help yourself straining your neck to kiss him. He groans against your lips and you whimper at the taste of him before he nips your lips and pulls away, leaving you panting and desperate for more.

“You need to listen to me,” he says gruffly, his breath mingling with yours as he pants above you. You pout and open your mouth to protest, but he kisses you again, making your head spin. You melt when his tongue hits yours, and then he’s gone again. You’re too dazed to complain about it.

“Listen to me, darling,” he says firmly, his voice brokering no argument. His wild eyes lock onto yours and it makes your heart race. “If I fuck you, you become a goddess.”

That snaps you out of it. “What?”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound goes straight to your clit. “The ‘humans react differently to godly spend’ thing? Were you listening?”

You flush slightly. “I was trying,” you mumble, looking down at his lips again. “But I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re very pretty, and therefore very distracting.”

Now it’s his turn to blush, and you’re too far gone not to moan at the sight. He chuckles again and rolls those icy eyes.

“Shush, you,” he mutters, kissing you deeply once more. He tries to pull away, but you whimper and chase his lips and he caves, his thumb stroking your inner wrist in time with his tongue against yours. Eventually, he does pull away again, and you’re left gasping for air.

“I won’t fuck you until you’ve had time to think about it,” he says softly, trailing feather-light kisses over your jaw. They send shivers down your spine and you clench your thighs together, biting your lip.

“I don’t-” you start to protest.

“No,” Loki says firmly, pulling away. His fingers tighten around your wrists and his other hand leaves your ribs to grip your chin. “Look at me, Little Fox.”

What you see takes your breath away. He’s positively exquisite; his hair a mess from your fingers, his eyes wild and pupils wide blown, his lips swollen from kissing you and his lips parted with the force of his heaving breaths. His heart melts at the reverence in your gaze and he sighs softly.

“Not until you’ve had time to think,” he repeats quietly, brushing your nose with his. With that, he kisses you once more before releasing your wrists and rolling off you and laying beside you, staring up at your ceiling. “But I won’t make you sleep alone.” 

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Apparently, Loki’s version of ‘time to think’ means ‘until I’ve explained every pro and con of immortality a thousand times and given you a week to mull over each one individually’.

Okay, so maybe it’s only been a month, but you’ve literally slept naked beside the man only to have him kiss your forehead and spoon you to sleep. It’s as sweet as it is infuriating. The only thing you’ve not tried is fucking groping him, which you don’t want to do because he’s been so respectful to you, so you’re fucking screwed. You’ve even tried touching yourself while he ‘slept’ beside you. You heard his breath hitch, you knew he was awake, but he did nothing. 

So now you have one option left, aside from borderline assaulting your husband; ignore him.

There’s a ball tonight, one which Frigga assured you is not at all important for you to attend and has no dress code, which is vital for Plan B. 

You just hope Plan A works anyway.

You’re oh-so-innocently perched on the chair in front of your vanity, painting your lips a deep red that offsets the… garment you’re wearing. Loki doesn’t immediately notice you, though he greets you as he always does. 

A gentle, “hello, love,” as he enters the room and slips into the bathroom, pretty head in the clouds. But you don’t respond, and he notices that immediately. So he pokes his head out of the bathroom, and he fucking groans when he sees you.

What you’re wearing is so skimpy it can hardly be considered a gown. It’s a deep, gorgeous, emerald silk, one that drapes over your breasts but leaves nothing of your back, sides, or stomach to the imagination. The skirt, which is hardly a skirt, is just a wide strip of fabric that covers your crotch and meets the ‘skirt’ in the back, so everything indecent is covered, but every spare inch of skin is bared. You’re not even wearing jewelry yet, but he’s salivating at the sight of you.

Loki slips out of the bathroom with dark eyes and silent feet, and you can see in your periphery as you check your hair in the mirror that he’s undoing his tie. He comes to a stop just behind your chair and leans down, his lips hovering just outside your ear. “Did you wear that for me, Little Fox?” he purrs, and you can’t keep the shiver from running down your spine.

You don’t respond, focusing on your own reflection as you paint the lipstick on. You purse your lips, rubbing them together to spread the color over them. Ordinarily, you’d be blushing and embarrassed, self-conscious of the skin you’re displaying, but you’re too horny after four fucking months of him ignoring and neglecting you (translated: not fucking you) to care. You set down the lipstick with a hum, seeing him move in your periphery. 

You can feel his breath against your skin, his hair brushing your shoulder as he leans in close and presses a chaste, lingering kiss to the crook of your neck. “I asked you a question,” he murmurs, his eyes trailing over your form as you begin to slide gold bracelets onto your arms. He’s definitely looking down the front of your dress.

But you still stay silent, ‘focusing’ entirely on your jewelry and not even sparing your husband a glance. You feel his lips curve into a frown against your skin and you relish it, the reaction, no matter how small it may be. 

He inches closer, kneeling behind your chair and resting a hand on your thigh from behind you. “Little fox,” he says lowly, his voice all but a growl as he caresses the soft skin of your uppermost leg. “Why are you wearing this?” His tone sounds almost menacing now, an unspoken warning that sends a shiver down your exposed spine. 

You meet his eyes over your shoulder, your own wide and innocent as you feel his thumb start to brush circles over your flesh. “I wanted to feel pretty,” you coo innocently, tilting your head to the side as your fingers dance across the vanity in search of the necklace you wanted to wear. You bat your eyelashes as you ask, “Do you think I look pretty?” 

There’s something that flashes in his eyes, the icy blue darkening as his pupils blow wide. He presses his nose into the crook of your neck as his fingers slip under the silk of your gown, coming to rest on your hip -right where your panties are supposed to be. But you’re not wearing any, and he is suddenly very aware of it. He growls against your neck, “I think you look like a fucking goddess.”

And then his fingers plunge inside you, quicker than you know what to do with, and you’re already so wet that both long, slender digits slip in with no resistance. You cry out, your eyes rolling and your jaw going slack as your thighs part unconsciously. You’re faintly aware of him smirking against your lips, but your entire universe narrows to the feeling of his middle and ring finger curling into that spot with every thrust. You don’t know how he found it so fast, but you are not complaining in the least.

“You’re so pretty,” he coos as his fingers pump in and out of you, watching your reflection in the mirror as you lose your mind completely. “So undone, just from a few little touches?” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as his thumb finds your clit and his tongue finds that spot under your jaw, both appendages moving in tight, rough circles that push you to the brink of sanity.

You’re probably moaning and whimpering and gasping, because your head is spinning and you can’t get enough air into your lungs and you’re not sure when your hips started bucking unceremoniously off the plush chair you’re sitting in, but none of that matters if you can’t stop yourself from cumming too fast. 

Loki chuckles, his eyes dark as he watches you writhe. 

And then he bites you.

You cum with a cry, one hand digging blood-red nails into his wrist and the other clawing at the edge of the chair as you try in vain to ground yourself. He’s groaning, too, gasping softly as his fingers seem to stutter inside your pulsing, fluttering pussy, but you’re floating too high to process why that might be. 

He strokes that spongy spot inside you as you come down, gasping and panting and whining gently. Loki’s panting just as hard, his breath hot against your skin as he does.

Some part of your brain registers the wide-blow of his pupils in the vanity’s reflection, the way his fingers slow inside you until they nearly stop, only twitching slightly, almost involuntarily. 

And then you wonder where his other hand is. 

The second you meet his eyes, you know. And he knows you know, too, because he whimpers unabashedly and a shudder runs through him. You turn, swallowing hard as you peek back at him over the back of the chair. You try, oh, by the gods you try to maintain some level of dignity, but the second your eyes meet his without the reflection, your gaze drops.

Oh, he’s beautiful.

His trousers are shoved down his thighs and hand is wrapped tight around his cock, pumping furiously as he stares at you from his knees. A better woman might get a power trip, but you just whimper, biting your lip as you watch him. Memorize him.

The way his wrist twists on the upstroke, the way his palm grazes his tip, red and leaking and swollen and fuck you want to kiss it. The way he drags his nails down that vein on his underside, hissing slightly as he does. You wonder if it hurts, or if it feels more like a scratch on the scalp, but your mouth is too dry to ask. 

You’re dully aware of your own hand moving between your thighs, pulling his fingers from inside you, causing you both to whine softly. You watch him switch hands then, using your slick instead of his own as he strokes himself faster. Your eyes flick to his face just in time to watch his eyes roll back, his bottom lip dragged between his teeth to stifle a sound you so wish you could hear. Loki’s head falls back and his eyes drift closed as he fucks his fist with your juices, his chest heaving and his stomach flexing with every thrust.

And you can’t help slipping off your chair and dropping to your knees, watching intently as pre-cum beads on that slit at the tip of him, such a perfect mushroom that you can’t not-

You grip his wrist, halting his movements. He whines, opening his eyes and staring down at you with a bewildered expression. Fuck, his eyes, so wide and burning and unhinged and insane, ablaze with lust and need and want. You whimper, and you can feel your heart beating in your clit as you tilt your head down, your eyes never leaving his, and kiss the head of him.

He explodes instantly, a hoarse cry leaving his throat. You open your mouth without hesitation, wrapping your lips around his perfect, pretty tip and laving your tongue over his spurting member. His warning from a month ago rings in your mind, but you’ve thought it over, and at this point, you do not care at all. 

Why would you turn down this, turn down him, for the rest of forever?

Loki’s gasping and whimpering, his hips stuttering as he tries desperately not to fuck your mouth as you suckle the tip of him. You wrap your hand around his base, watching him through your eyelashes as you stroke him gently, wanting to milk out every drop of his cum. He’s sweet, which you weren’t expecting. Like candy, where human males are salty and bitter. He tastes like heaven, and you’re completely unsurprised that this would be an aphrodisiac to the average human.

“Fox,” he chokes out, gripping your hair tightly. “I- fuck- you-” He’s spluttering, his cock twitching against your tongue as the last drops spurt out into your mouth. You pull away, your chest heaving as you press one last kiss to his cock before releasing him. His hands drop to the floor, leaving him on his hands and knees in front of you, where your position mirrors his. He drops his head to your shoulder, loosing ragged, shuddering breaths against your skin as he tries to remember how to function.

You can still taste him on your tongue, and you can’t help wondering when you’ll get to do that again. “Loki,” you whisper, lifting one hand to run gently through his hair, soothingly. 

He growls softly, his body going still against you. Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you think he’s angry with you. But then he’s standing, his arms looping around you to hoist you into the air. He dumps you unceremoniously on the bed, shoving his pants down the rest of the way before shoving your gown up and burying his head between your thighs. 

You cry out, arching into him as you whimper his name, gripping his wavy hair tightly as his tongue flicks against your clit rhythmically. It’s hard and fast and desperate, far from what you thought your first time with him would be like. He seemed the type to lay out candles and rose petals, not bury his face in your cunt the first chance he got. 

His fingers join in, pumping in and out of your pulsing pussy as he focuses his oral attentions on your clit, sucking hard and dragging his teeth over you just to listen to you gasp. His free hand kneads your inner thigh as he growls unintelligibly into your cunt. He’s probably giving a whole speech about how delicious you are, about how he could stay here for centuries and never tire, but you’re too busy mewling and whimpering his name to be able to discern any of it. You cum too fast again, your pussy drippy and needy from the aphrodisiac that is his seed, but he doesn’t stop.

You beg him to keep going, gasping and whimpering as you try to squirm away but push harder onto his tongue. Oh, it’s a warring sensation; the pain and the pleasure, the way it feels like heaven but it aches as he bullies your g-spot so perfectly with every crook of his fingers. His tongue is unrelenting, every flick of it sending stars into your eyes and shivers running down your spine. You’re incoherently babbling, mostly his name, but you’re sure there’s other stuff spilling from your lips, too. You’re kneading his hair and scalp, using your nails probably too much, but he just growls into your cunt and nips at your folds, causing a strangled cry to lurch from your throat as you cum hard once more. He groans as your pussy flutters so beautifully around his fingers, seemingly trying to drag them deeper inside you. 

Finally, with one last drooling kiss to your clit, he pulls away, letting his eyes rove over you as he sucks his fingers clean. You lie, spread out and spent, chest heaving as your thighs tremble and your body twitches with soft aftershocks. You open your eyes, letting your fingers slip out of his hair so your arms go limp against the bed.

“You… You’re really good at that,” you murmur, still feeling like you’re floating.

Loki chuckles, his hand moving from your thigh to slide up your side, finding the hidden ribbon of your gown and tugging it. “I’ve had a long time to practice,” he muses as he unties the green silk, his eyes tracing over your form. 

“You’re exquisite,” he whispers reverently, pushing the skimpy gown to the side so he can kiss more of you. He traces his lips over your skin, not even trying to be sensual, simply wanting to worship you. 

He kneads your flesh softly, making your heart skip as his touch ghosts over you. It feels so safe here, so comfortable, and you feel so utterly adored. “I love you,” you whisper, your breath catching before you let out a soft, content sigh. It doesn’t immediately process for you that you’ve never said that to him, but he just hums against your collarbone, kissing his way up your neck until his lips rest on your earlobe.

“And I love you,” he whispers reverently, settling between your thighs. He kneels there, pulling back to look down at your still-twitching body. He smirks, a slight, arrogant thing, smugly proud of how undone you are for him. He finally finishes pulling his shirt off, unbuttoning slowly as you watch with parted lips and baited breath. “Do you want me to fuck you, my little fox?” he asks softly as he pulls the dress shirt off his back. You swallow hard, staring unabashedly at his chest as your cheeks heat. You nod, biting your lip gently before he leans forward and tugs your lip free with his thumb.

“I need a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, my queen,” he whispers as he hovers over you. His cock is hot and heavy against your stomach, hard again, and all for you. He bumps your nose with his, his eyes locked on yours as he smiles gently, the thumb on your lip moving to caress your jaw. His voice is so gentle, so sweet that you almost don’t process the sheer depravity of his words. “Do you want my cock, baby? Do you want me to make you sob on my dick, to fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my dick in you?”

You whimper, your cunt clenching at the thought.

“Yes.”

He crashes his lips to yours, his restraint seeming to snap completely as he reaches down and grips his cock tightly. He pumps it once, twice, sweeping his tongue over yours in time with his fist, and tilts his hips until the head of him taps your clit. You whimper against his mouth and he swallows it eagerly, slapping his cock against the throbbing nub and chasing the sound once more.

And oh, when he finally slips inside… The broad head of him stretches you out so slowly and deliciously, and your hands fly up from their spot in the bedsheets and claw down his back, trying to drag him closer, pull him deeper. You angle your hips with a whimper, bucking up to try to take him faster. But he chuckles against your lips and sucks on your tongue, keeping his slow, torturous pace until his head drags against that spongy spot inside you. You gasp and whine, arching your back. And he pulls out, pulling his cock through your sopping cunt oh-so-slowly as he breaks the kiss. He smirks down at you, his hands moving to grip your hips, hard enough to bruise.

He slams back inside all at once, eliciting a scream of ecstasy from deep inside your chest. Tears prick your eyes and you bow your back, encouraging a repeat performance. He whines softly and complies with your silent command, pulling out slowly until only his tip is inside you before he plunges back in, his cockhead meeting your cervix in a bruising, gooey kiss that leaves you both whimpering and gasping for more. 

“Loki,” you whine, your eyes squeezing shut. He coos down at you, praising how pretty and sweet you look as he does it again, still too slow and still not hard enough but fuck fuck fuck, it feels so good.

“Take my cock so perfect,” he murmurs with a bright grin as he speeds up ever so slightly. “Such a pretty pussy, made f’me, yeah? Your pussy was made f’my cock? So fuckin perfect, baby, I love you so fuckin much.”

“Loki,” you whimper again, gasping desperately. “Loki, please-”

“Please what, baby?” he coos, pressing his hand against your belly as he thrusts in deep once more. You cry out, a fat tear falling down your cheek as you choke out his name. He just grins, doing it again and again, loving how completely undone you are, just from his cock. Him. “Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Takin my cock like a sex god. You want more, baby? You want more of me? Want me to pound this pussy?”

You nod frantically, gasping and choking on air as your blood-red nails dig into his skin, leaving marks and indents, proof of your touch on him. “Please,” you gasp out again, bowing your back again.

This time, he complies. This time, when he drags his cock through your pleasure-soaked walls, he rams back inside without hesitation. This time, he drops his forehead you yours and fucking rails you, drawing ecstatic sobs from the depths of your soul.

His hands are so tight on your hips that you know they’ll bruise, and fuck, you can’t wait to see them in the morning. He bullies his cock deeper with every thrust, rolling his hips like a goddamn porn star to hit your clit with each plunge into your depths. Loki’s whimpering as much as he’s growling, his eyes wild as he fucks you hard and fast and deep. He crashes his mouth to yours, tasting your tears and sweat and spit and just you, groaning deep into your mouth. 

He stills over you for a second, long enough to make you whine in protest, but also long enough to grab your hands off his back and pin them to the bed beside your head, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“Mine,” he whispers reverently as he moves once more, his body fitting so perfectly against yours, like it was made for you. “Tell me,” he begs, trailing kisses over your jaw as his hips slow to a deep, satisfying pace that stirs that coil in your belly and makes the most delicious squelching sound. “Tell me who I belong to.”

You whimper, tears of absolute pleasure rolling down your skin only for Loki to lick and kiss them away before they can disappear into your hair. “Me,” you choke out, arching up into him with a soft whine. “Mine. Y-you’re mine.”

He whimpers, too, echoing you as he kisses your skin, his hips speeding up as his own high coils in his core. “Yours,” he vows, releasing one of your hands to reach down and press his thumb against your clit. “My wife.”

You cum with a scream, clenching on his cock so hard you’re sure it has to hurt, but he only whines, fucking you harder. He cums seconds later, gasping out your name and spilling deep inside you. You flutter harder around him, groaning at the feeling of being so utterly filled by him as your body convulses and twitches beneath him as he thrusts jerkily, trying to keep fucking you despite his own orgasm. He’s whimpering like a wounded animal, and it’s nearly enough to make you cum again. 

You lean up and capture his lips, whining as you taste him again, going limp as he stills above you, focusing entirely on your lips now. His hand stills against you and the other squeezes yours, a soft, utterly sated sigh dropping between your lips. Loki settles his weight over you, letting his hand slide up your body and caress your jaw as he goes soft inside you. You sigh contentedly, lifting your own free hand to toy with his hair as you kiss. 

After a moment, you pull away and smile up at him, tired and sated. “My husband,” you whisper, your hand sliding from his hair to his jaw. Loki nuzzles into the touch, kissing your inner wrist.

His eyes are soft as he gazes down at you, his hand on your jaw sliding up to trace over your face gently, reverently. And you could swear you’ve never heard anything as sweet as his voice as he murmurs so gently, so adoringly, “My goddess.”

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Later that night, you were still naked and tangled together, your head on his chest as he played with your hair, damp from the shower. You’re tracing shapes over his skin, humming contentedly to yourself. 

You press a gentle kiss to his pec, skewing your mouth to one side. “I don’t feel any different,” you admit, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. “I mean, I feel different, but different in a ‘I just had the best sex of my life’ kind of way, not a ‘I’m a goddess now’ kind of way.”

Loki chuckles and boops your nose. “You’ll feel different in the morning,” he assures you, his voice low and soft. “You were a goddess from the second my cock touched your tongue.” You flush despite yourself, turning your face to kiss his sternum. 

“Hmm,” is all you say, embarrassed now of all times. He just laughs, grinning. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his voice coy and teasing as he settles back into his pillows as he returns to toying with your hair. “We’ll have plenty of time to make you a goddess if it didn’t work this time.”

[nazghcul]

"That's nice of you bestie, i'm glad his words no longer hurt you like they used to however, that doesn't give my man a pass to continue doing it. He also needs to learn how to be respectful and careful but Bryce and Ludo don't know either, a pro but also a con. I get it they have no filter and say it how it is, at least they're honest about it. I'm happy you and Bryce are friends but the broski's should be mindful, it doesn't cost a lot to be mindful really. " AJ shrugged, he knew the broski's won't learn. But neither wanted to see his anger, he knew how to suppress it and not take control. It gives him relief knowing that Bryce changed his attitude towards his bestie, those were subtle which he's noticed for some time. "Yeah i know, it's not cool he waited a long time to be a nice friend. And, while many not think i'm not the jealous type i am. I guess i handle it differently. Bryce knows that i'm a jealous guy, i've seen people at events get too close and touchy with him. I don't like it at all. It's infuriating to be honest. He pays them no mind, he's always enjoying his free snacks and beer but i see those idiots wanting a piece of him. I recently saw this one guy with dark curly hair, blue eyes get too close. And boy, did i hate that so much. He was lucky we were in public." AJ rolled his eyes, he still saw the paparazzi pictures and saw the comments most people made. Some even shipped them, how crazy. "I've see so many of ludo wannabes lately, is that a trend? " he asked a little concerned with that since Ludo has been everyone's favorite model, having him as the face of his clothing brand was unexpected. When AJ started this, it was small work at first. He knew people here and there within the fashion industry that gave him advice, however he had great connections although AJ did it all himself, now he had a small team with great backgrounds and who truly enjoyed his brand. And everything went smoothly and successfully since. But Ludovic seemed to fit his the vibes and energy, he has charisma, sex appeal, heavy masculine confidence. Ever since Ludo has been over booked because everyone loved him even though Ludo himself had a hard time adjusting to the spotlight, still does.

"But your wedding should be the real focal point, no distractions. I have everything set and planned. I've asked Trudy and Cris to be the face of my new collection and while they take care of that, i'll take care of you. I'm very excited about this wedding i'll be honest. We can all hope for some peace, i know Sofia would want that and even Angelo. I know that man is done with the shenanigans. Can't blame him really. He's been spending so much time with Sofia, like, are they a thing Bestie? i know Gabe was fooling around with him but i don't know, i see heart eyes with those two unless i'm mistaken here." He pointed out. Gabe probably fumbled Angelo, took too much pride on the club than living a normal humble life. AJ didn't care at least Angelo found a great friend in Sofia, someone normal and kind. But if they were dating, that would be cool. "Wine and fabrics, that's my love language you know." he smiled, gesturing the other while grabbing a bottle of wine while mention Bryce and women during events. Setting the bottle of wine and the fabric samples he had everywhere, because when did he not? AJ always had an idea pop up with different fabrics. He snorted to Benji's question and laughed. "Of course i give him the silent treatment, he whines and cries. There are small occasions that i give in not going to lie. Other times, my anger is too much and i stand my ground. I don't give him anything, not even a kiss. That doesn't surprise me that he asks Ludovic about how he seems to avoid your silent treatments, i think i know though. Ludovic never shuts up about how his charms always work on you. Whether mad or not, they seem to work on you and you give in. The sex is that great bestie that you can't say no? " he teased, giving his bestfriend a smirk.

Benji   chuckled   a   little   bit,   but   when   AJ   mentioned   Ludovic's   ego,   he   couldn't   even   stop   himself   from   laughing.   ❝You   have   a   point,   Bestie,❞   he   admitted   audibly   amused.   Maybe   he   has   really   been   a   little   worried   deep   down   inside,   even   though   Benji   never   posted   anything   too   private   on   that   fan   account.   But   his   captions   sometimes   sounded   a   little   obsessive.   That   was   a   fact   he   kept   secret   from   AJ   for   now   (though   Benji   was   certain   that   his   bestie   knew   that   already).   ❝Of   course.   I   know   your   man.   The   day   he   doesn't   comment   on   something   is   when   I'll   be   seriously   worried.   You   don't   have   to   worry.   Between   you   and   me,   Bryce   doesn't   annoy   me,   nor   do   his   words   hurt   me.   I   just   play   along   often   and   give   him   a   glare.   But   I   wouldn't   want   Bryce   to   be   any   other   way.   He's   been   a   very   good   friend   after   Ludo's   accident.❞   A   soft   sigh   fell   from   his   lips   when   the   topic   came   to   Ludo's   copy.   ❝He   knows.   I   immediately   told   Ludo   about   it.   He   just   rolled   his   eyes.   It   felt   like   I   was   much   more   furious   than   he   was.❞

But   what   could   really   become   a   problem   was   the   wedding.   Ludo   was   able   to   roll   his   eyes   at   his   Italian   copy,   but   things   will   get   heated   when   Amaru   was   involved.   And   it   was   certain   to   say   that   Benji   was   nervous   for   his   big   day.   ❝I   hope   so   too.   My   only   hope   is   that   Amaru   will   hold   back   because   of   Sofia's   presence.   Or   maybe   your   twin   will   hold   him   back.   Amaru   isn't   a   big   fan   of   Cris.❞   However,   this   was   a   whole   new   topic.   Benji   would   rather   go   through   all   the   fabrics   with   his   best   friend.   ❝Wine?   Did   I   hear   wine?   Now   we   are   talking.   Come   on.   Let's   go   through   all   the   fabrics.❞   Yet,   the   information   he   got   about   AJ's   relationship   with   Bryce   caused   Benji   to   widen   his   eyes.   Never   has   he   thought   that   women   were   still   interested   in   Bryce.   Then   again,   Benji   tended   to   forget   that   Bryce   had   just   as   many   booty   calls   as   Ludovic.   ❝I   shouldn't   say   that   but   I'm   kinda   glad   that   you   get   jealous   as   well   at   times.   Though   let   me   guess,   Bryce   was   only   there   for   the   snacks   and   some   beer.   Did   he   whine,   though?   When   you   gave   him   silent   treatment,   I   mean.   I   overheard   a   conversation   between   him   and   Ludo   the   other   day   asking   how   Ludo   avoids   my   silent   treatment.❞

[squid-de]

DRACULA, THE COUNT — "I'm shivering different. This shit ain't nothing to me, man. I'm a black hound. I'm licking my wounds in the grass. We smoking opportunistic microorganisms. Smoking that Roustame Diodore south Advesperascit page-three girl deluxe cryptozoological protoplasmic kush. We smoking Col Do Ma Ma Daqua. I'm on twelve Pyrholidons, smoking on phasmatodean dick. We smoking that Boogie Street boogers? We snorting that good Franconigerian cavalry jibbies. They must have retrograde amnesia, they forgot that I'm *Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau*. That Pox pack hittin' that pussy smell, like a Coupris Kineema. We smoking shit in apricot faïence, blowing Her Innocence's bubbles. I'm sick in the head. I'm on them Coal City tic-tacs. I'm on them Yekokataa apple nibblers. I'm on them Tioumoutiri geronimos. I left my prybar in the lorry, I'll have to can-open them next time. I don't give a fuck if I go hobo. I don't need to see the hostel bill anyway. We s-- ...I'm high on twelve Dick Mullens looking to beat the viscous goo out of a fresh Puta peone. We smoking spirit bombs, you stupid piece of shit! I'll fucking eat your mind! Call that pussy the Coalition Government, 'cause I'm in this bitch, and I *can't get out*. Last guy who ran off on the precinct got choked out by some Fairweather T-500 gauntlets. The last thing he ever saw was the kinetic redistributors on them. Slowly faded into the pale, and I let the Angel of History take him. I need some Boogie Street boogers! Don't be shy girl, *I want to have fuck with you*. I'm shivering like Arno van Eyck. Bwee?! Welcome to the Apricot Suzerainty, bitch, open up! Guillaume le Million, I suck his cocaine out of another man's eyeballs. My hetero-sexual life partner a speedfreak, he look like Guillaume Bevy. You ain't seen ten centims in your life, bino! Reach for my wrist and you'll get turned into a Game Over. Y'all gotta stop playing with me, man. I threw the Filippian crown jewels at Le Petit Rat catacombs under Corpus Mundi. I have built 0.000% of Communism. This shit ain't *nothing* to me, man. Tied the SKULLS to the back of a motor carriage and dragged 'em around Rue de Saint Ghislaine for twenty-four hours. Motherfucker! Looked like a pinball goat after we was done with him. SKULLS wanted some initiative, blew up their entire tenement. I'm shivering like Franconegro. She drop that ass on me from an internally coherent angle, they thought I was Kras Mazov. Top-shelf pilsner, disrupted my infra-materialism. I have seen the March decree, I have seen *le Retour*. I was Jamrock shuffling for the Perikarnassian before you all even became an isola. This shit ain't nothing to me, you stupid piece of shit. Drive the Motorway South and you will *dither*. That pussy feel like Samaran butter. You think I care about this shit? Ask me if I care about this shit, 'cause I don't give a shit. If I had a reál for every time they said I gave a shit, I'd be broke, 'cause I don't give a shit. My ex-something look like Dolores Dei. I grooved so hard they thought I was Ostentatious Orchestrations. This shit ain't *nothing* to me, man, I'll pale-bomb you, you stupid piece of shit!"

[hinamie]

thank u canon plant nerd megumi for my life

bonus:

[romidoes]

“...how many more days again?” And for once, that’s a really easy one. No need for brain cells here. “None.” Change of plans. “Comin’ home in the mornin’.” Mickey laughs, and it’s music to his ears.  “Yeah, you fuckin’ are…” inspired by kinktober 2022 by @whatthebodygraspsnot chapter 2

leave it to me to focus on the 'romantic' bit in a fic focused on sex. i've been reading and re-reading this one so much and kept thinking of their eventual dramatic reunion which led me to draw them hugging. the reference comes from the same paparazzi shot as this other drawingi made. thought it would be cool to mention

[skullfragments]

soooo i've been real busy this past month and change working on this monster of a painting! it was originally for the GO Ref library study club but clearly took much longer than i anticipated😅

for those of you who don't recognize it, this is based on one of my favorite historical paintings, Judith Beheading Holofernes (1620) by Artemisia Gentileschi. i love the Baroque period and this painting (as well as her other works) makes me insane. here it is Good Omens style so maybe all of you can be insane with me <3

"Aziraphale (and Crowley) Beheading the Metatron"

(non-bloody and non-glowy versions under the cut)

[cerealforkart]

Guess who played up to the end of the forest temple and once again lost the battle of not making a new AU last night?

Lark’s existence complicates some things in a lot of fun interesting ways let me cook on this one

I still haven’t cast a Zelda, this AU is all about Sparrow with a wolf curse, anything else is secondary

[a-finnish-janitor]

Really like how he actually changes his voice for those couple of lines in this narration.