#‘We can’t go see her because we don’t know the words and can’t performatively pretend we’re her biggest fans by screaming every word’

[aeolianblues]

Oh look, the nepo baby singer who has nothing consequential to say also has empty fans who haven’t had a thought in their lifetimes. Sky’s blue, water wets, empty vessels make noise.

It is simple gig etiquette, you don’t control the choice of opener, and you can just come late if you really don’t want to see them. Even if you’re on the barricade and she can see you, you think an opener doesn’t understand that the people at the show aren’t always familiar with their work? They come with the mindset that they want to warm up the crowd, and if possible create new fans by exposing them to their music.

If you don’t like it, that’s also fine! Goodness me, I had more chats with Pulp fans about what they thought of the opener (people thought they were Weird and cringey) than I talked to them about Pulp. But did anyone do this? No! You let the openers do their thing! You can listen and either appreciate it or know that you have the choice to never listen to it again once you leave the venue.

It’s so self-centred to try and get the opener removed just because you don’t know them. What a stupid thing to say. Also ‘we don’t know her music’ but also ‘her music is so slow’? Make up your mind, do you know her or do you not?

People wonder why it’s hard for new musicians to draw huge crowds? It’s because over the last decade, we’ve all been conditioned so hard to know everything in advance.

Reruns, remakes, 20th anniversary remaster tops the charts, 30th anniversary reunion tour is the only show you’ve been to all year (it’s expensive so now you won’t spend $15 at a local show), as an audience, not only has our maturity been forgotten, but producers (and particularly financiers) of media have been so obsessed with coddling audiences for familiarity, we’ve been such huge losers for it.

The same radio stations that once boasted they playing the ‘hottest new names in music’ and magazines that proudly printed ‘We were the first to discover and ‘break’ them into the mainstream’ have spent the last year fishing for Oasis reunion stories. The name sells, familiarity is a business strategy and idiots will go into a frenzy doubling down on misinformation because they don’t like new and unfamiliar information (be it on bigotry, false biology or fantasy about ‘immigrants’).

And I guess sometimes it manifests itself like this: in people who are going to see an artist who has released 2 albums, and who herself was discovered by many fans in opening for Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift, and those fans are complaining about a new artist they don’t yet know who has potentially got the biggest career boosting opportunity of her life, because they’re not ‘familiarized with her work’.

Ignoring the fact that anyone else who replaces her at short notice will also not be familiar, what the hell? Skill issue. Dora Jar has ONE album out. How fucking hard is it to listen to ONE album. A friend of mine is challenging herself to do one new album a day this month. How fucking hard is it.

[vixstarria]

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

AO3

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.” 

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets. 

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight. 

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.” 

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.” 

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.” 

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.  

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?” 

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.” 

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”  

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.” 

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?” 

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.” 

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle. 

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?” 

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased. 

“I hate dancing,” he said. 

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?” 

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.” 

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned. 

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?” 

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh. 

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before. 

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?” 

“I didn’t let him.” 

He laughed. 

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?” 

You had to think for a moment.  

“Are we counting Volo?” 

“Sure.” 

“Then just Karlach and Withers.” 

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?” 

Astarion was silent for a few moments. 

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”  

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he said.  

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.  

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.” 

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered. 

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan. 

“That’s not my back, Astarion.” 

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly. 

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?” 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.” 

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.  

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.” 

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.  

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.  

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.” 

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.  

“You can try,” you taunted him. 

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.  

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you. 

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars. 

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.  

“Ast… what..”  

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll. 

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans. 

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.” 

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it. 

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.” 

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.  

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up. 

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred. 

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.  

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.” 

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you. 

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.  

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...” 

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.  

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t- 

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body. 

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.  

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?” 

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip. 

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.  

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again. 

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?” 

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night. 

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.  

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well. 

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...” 

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you. 

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.” 

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.  

“Your what?” you gasped.  

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.  

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.  

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.  

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go. 

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his. 

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.  

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.  

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face. 

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear. 

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder. 

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips. 

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.  

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea. 

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements. 

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder. 

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.  

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips. 

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.  

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear. 

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.  

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.  

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke. 

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.  

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?” 

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk. 

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes. 

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.  

“Is that so?” he said softly.  

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..? 

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.  

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.  

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.  

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with. 

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.” 

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.  

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.  

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying. 

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”   

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled. 

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”  

He chuckled at that. 

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.  

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered. 

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”  

���Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.  

“Five.”  

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.” 

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-” 

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.  

“Do not finish that thought, darling.” 

You grinned from behind his palm.  

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.  

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”  

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.  

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly. 

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.  

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.  

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.  

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

[yncoreee]

JUST PRETENDING. Click!

Sohyun was known as the schools strict president, while you were her bubbly vice president.

At first glance, one could guess it was two couples having fun, with the taller one teasing the shorter one. Which was absolutely wrong because in reality it was Sohyun either yelling at you or scolding you.

She had always acted like she totally hated your guts. But nowadays she’s been acting oddly strange with her now strange attitude towards you.

Today was like any other day, after school you were stuck in the students council’s office until it was late in the evening. “Finally I’m done for the day” you sighed in relief packing your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder afterwards.

“Well, I gotta go home. See you tomorrow student pres” you waved off goodbye your hand resting on the door handle ready to leave.

“Wait!” Sohyun yelled, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhhh yeah? Is there anything you need?” You asked, pausing.

“Yeah I do need something” she nervously chuckled, rising up from her seat, carrying her bag with one of her free hands. “Actually, can we go to a park?” She suggested slightly tilting her head to the side.

“Sure I guess” you responded with a skeptical tone unsure of if this was actually Sohyun or some rando pretending to be her.

“Great!” She beamed excitedly with a smile twitching her face but returning back to her normal expressions when she realized.

She locked the door the moment the both of you excited the office.

The walk outside the school was normal, Sohyun just talked about the regulars. Things about the upcoming test and what to do to those who disobeyed the school rules today.

But the moment you both reached outside, it was like she ran out of words with the thick tension in the air as she could only pass silent glances.

Clearing her through she spoke up with a tiny shake in her voice. “C-can I h-hold your hand?” She asked, gesturing over to your hand.

“…….sure” you replied furrowing your eyebrows still skeptical about this whole thing.

“Thanks” she said, now intertwining her shaky and larger hands with your smaller ones.

She hummed feeling the warm contact. Her thumbs found its way to caress yours making it seem like a precious treasure that must be treated with carefulness.

“Sit. Let me go get ice cream” she spoke carefully sitting you down like a gentle woman rushing over to the ice cream stand near by.

She returned back handing one of the ice creams to you, keeping the other for herself.

Taking a seat right next to you she stared down at the floor like it was performing some kind of show. “Why did you asked for me to follow you to the park?” You asked breaking the silence.

“Oh that I-uhhh—“ she stuttered a small blush creeping up on her face. “Look I don’t want to beat around the bush so I’m going to be straightforward” she stated taking a deep sigh after. Grabbing one of your hands once again.

“Y/n…… I know I don’t really express it that much but…. I’ve been trying me best fl for the past days but I just can’t seem to be that obvious. Y/n…..I like you” she blurted out, diverting her eyes away from your face and towards the floor.

“Ahhhh I can’t believe I just confessed” she blushed furiously taking her hand away from yours, burying her face into it until she heard a giggle coming from you.

She rose her head up to look at you, furrowing her eyebrows. “Why are you smiling?”

“Sohyun…I knew something was off when you suddenly started to act strange. It just wasn’t— ”

“Is that a yes or no? Do you like me or not?” She interrupted raising an eyebrow. She guessed your answer was probably a no. Of course no one would want to date a cold person who probably couldn’t shower them with affection as much as anyone can.

“It’s a big yes. Of course I like you Sohyun” you smiled finishing off your ice cream.

Her eyes widened at your response with a sparkle of excitement. “YOU SAID YES?? So that means we’re officially together right? So I can do this?” She smirked placing an unexpected kiss on your lips pulling away after a few seconds.

“I love doing that. Let’s do it everyday”

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 10: Pride

Word Count: 998

Rating: G

Pairing: None

CW: Language

Summary: Corroded Coffin plays a gig at a fundraiser in Hawkins and Eddie understands what it's like to really make it. Part of my As You Wish universe!

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Jesus, have we ever played in front of this many people before?” Gareth asks as he shakes out his wrists to loosen them up. 

“Have we ever performed in front of kids before?” Jeff questions in response.

“Have you guys ever played in front of your own kids?” Frank follows up, being the only one in the band who doesn’t have any children yet. 

“Not like this,” Eddie says, fiddling with the knobs on an amp. 

Somewhere out in the crowd of around two hundred are Ryan and Luke, anxiously awaiting their father’s rock star moment. They’re standing somewhere with Brittany and Wayne, and more than likely, Gareth’s and Jeff’s families too. 

At first, Eddie was surprised that Brittany actually followed through on this event and didn’t invent a last minute excuse. But then it occurred to him—this is a family event, this fundraiser for the Hawkins Police Department. If she didn’t show up, then it wouldn’t look like the Munsons are the idyllic white-picket-fence family that Brittany likes to pretend they are to those who don’t know any differently. 

Brittany probably felt obligated the moment Jeff’s wife Nicole, an officer with the Hawkins PD, asked Corroded Coffin if they’d perform at the fundraiser. Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to believe she was here out of the goodness of her heart or because she wanted to see her husband play music onstage. 

“I can’t believe after all the times I had to deal with you guys as punk kids, I’m now about to introduce your band onstage.” Chief Hopper shakes his head and tosses his stub of a cigarette down on the ground, the toe of his boot digging the bud into the dirt. 

“Aw, come on, Hop,” Gareth says, letting his hand land heavily on the taller man’s shoulder. “It was just a few noise complaints when our rehearsals went on too long.”

Hopper flicks the brim of his hat up and raises his eyebrows at the drummer.

“Yeah, with you. Caught Dawson here speeding almost every other week,” the police chief says, nodding towards Frank. “And Munson…well, shit, there’s not enough time before you guys are due on stage for me to get into that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie mumbles, a small smile on his lips, “Jeff’s the golden boy. Still is.”

“That’s because his wife has a gun,” Gareth stage whispers, making Frank and Eddie laugh. 

The applause coming from the crowd out front signals that whoever was entertaining them has finished, meaning the guys are up. 

“Ready boys?” Hopper asks, looking around at the band members. Once he’s satisfied with their nods of confirmation, he heads out onto the stage to make the introduction. 

Feedback crackles before the chief’s deep voice booms over the speakers.

“Up next, we’ve got a band that’s been playing together in Hawkins for well over a decade now. You may recognize them from The Hideout or have even called into the station with a noise complaint about them.” There’s a rumble of laughter from the audience. “And one of the members is married to our very own Officer Nicole Samuels. Please welcome, Corroded Coffin.”

Hearing their band’s name being announced still gives Eddie a thrill, the blood in his veins buzzing with excitement, even after all this time. 

The moment his boots hit the stage, Eddie can hear two particular cheers above all others.

“Yeeeeeah! Corroded Coffin!”

“Yay, Daddy! Go Daddy!”

It’s by far the best welcome he’s ever gotten whilst making an entrance. 

As Eddie adjusts the microphone at the front of the stage, his eyes scan the crowd, and he sees a cluster of familiar faces. Two with extra enthusiasm make his mouth spread into a wide grin. 

Ryan is sitting on Wayne’s shoulders, small black Corroded Coffin t-shirt on, throwing his fists in the air and cheering for his father. Luke is in Brittany’s arms, squirming around like crazy as he waves to Eddie on stage. To Brittany’s credit, she’s grimacing against all the movement Luke is doing, but she’s still holding him up so he can see.

Around them are the other guys’ families, along with Steve, Nancy, Max, and Lucas. 

Eddie gives a wave to his boys as his bandmates get situated behind him. It’s impossible to wipe the smile off his face as he takes everything in: being back on stage, having a crowd of more than five, most of them actually sober, and having so many people he cares about in the audience. Especially his sons.

A surge of warmth crashes over Eddie and he can’t explain it any other way than pure happiness and pride. 

“Hello, Hawkins,” Eddie says into the mic, receiving another round of applause in response. “How we doing tonight?”

“GOOD!” 

Luke’s sweet, loud voice echoes above everyone else’s and Eddie can’t help but chuckle into the mic.

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we hope you’re ready to have some fun.”

They open with Metallica’s version of Whiskey in the Jar. It’s his boys’ favorite song of the iconic band’s because of the fun lyrics that sound like nonsense when you sing along. Eddie knew right off the bat that this is the song he wanted to kick the show off with. 

As the part of the song that the boys like comes closer, Eddie finds them in the crowd and keeps his gaze locked on them.

Yeah, musha rain dum a doo, dum a da, ha, yeah

Whack for my daddy-o

Whack for my daddy-o

There’s whiskey in the jar, oh

The joy on Ryan and Luke’s faces brings Eddie a sense of rightness that he’s never felt before. It’s like something clicked into place within him that’s been waiting all these years to find where it belongs. 

I’ve made it, Eddie thinks to himself. Fuck a record label or a world tour. They don’t mean shit when his playing draws so much joy out of his sons. Nothing can top that. 

This is what making it feels like. 

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 7

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger and I headed to our mission destination by train.

(We’re runaway lovers that wound up at the village after having nowhere to go)

…That’s what Victor’s having us pretend to be to hide our identities.

--

Roger: Because everyone in this village welcomed us so warmly, I was able to save my beloved girlfriend from starvation.

(What’s with the sudden change in speech and refreshing smile? Who are you?)*

Though relieved that we safely made our way into the village, I was thrown off by Roger’s sudden transformation.

Roger: Kate, we will happily settle in this village.

Kate: Y-yes. Let’s be happy here, R-Roger.

Roger kissed my cheek, making my fake smile even more awkward.

However, Roger’s convincing performance was a success and the villagers welcomed us with open arms, serving us welcoming meals one after another.

Woman of the village: You must have been nervous. You’ll stay safe in this village because our Spirit God gives protection to everything.

Man of the village: Ah, indeed! Those who believe in the Spirit God will be saved as he is the one who can ward off any disease.

Spirit God: …

The villagers beamed at a man sitting in the middle of the room who hadn’t said a word since we arrived.

(...This is the Spirit God)

(He looks around 50 years old? And looks like your average human)

However, as Fairytale Keeper who’s witnessed evil up close, I now understood.

A human’s outward appearance belied evil that dwelled in their heart.

(Even so, it seemed like stories of “disease being warded off” in this village were widely accepted)

(A mere human couldn’t possibly ward off disease. There had to be some kind of trick—)

Kate: Hm?

I felt a tug on my skirt and turned to see a little girl that looked around five years old standing there with a smile.

Blonde child: Is id nummy?

(Huh…her speech…? Maybe it’s because she’s still young?)

Kate: Yeah, it’s really delicious. Thank you.

When I thanked her, the girl smiled back happily.

This village was very peaceful and full of smiles.

It felt like a utopia where all things scary were removed.

—Unfortunately, there was no such thing in this world.

(Something’s up with this village)

--

Sometime after being welcomed by everyone, Roger and I finally found ourselves alone.

Roger: This village’s so fishy it’s laughable.

Kate: Yeah, I thought so too. This village…there’s something going on.

The Spirit God’s existence, in addition to some other sense of discomfort that I couldn’t put a name to.

Roger: Let’s hear your point of view first, lil’ lady.

Kate: If what Victor said about an undercover police being killed was true, Then the villagers wouldn’t be as welcoming to newcomers. It wouldn’t have been strange for them to turn us away. But they were all so friendly. While I don’t want to question their generosity, I think…we should keep our guard up.

(Maybe there was something hiding behind all those smiles…)

Roger: Yeah, I was thinking the same. What about you, Liam?

Kate: Huh, Liam?

(That’s right, Liam went ahead of us to gather intelligence…)

I looked around but didn’t see him anywhere.

Kate: Liam, are you hurt or anything? Hungry?  

When I called out to the room, only my voice echoed.

Liam’s voice: Hehe, I’m not hungry or hurt. Also, I’m on the other side.

Kate: Ah, sorry. Huh, how did you know where he was, Roger?

Roger: My ears picked up his heartbeat and presence. So disappearing on me’s useless.

Liam: My power and Roger’s aren’t compatible at all. Let’s move somewhere else.

With Liam concealing the sound of his footsteps, I was completely at a loss.

I followed Roger out to a place a little ways away from the villager’s homes.

The moment we stopped, Liam appeared out of nowhere like magic.

(The power to disappear’s amazing)

Liam: I’ll tell you guys everything I’ve learned about the village in the past few days. In short, this village…or rather, the Spirit God, is bad.

Kate: I thought so. How is he warding off diseases?

The most important thing was the trick that got the villagers to believe in him.

Liam: The trick’s simple. He’s not warding them off, just giving them to non-believers.

(No way…)

Liam: The Spirit God poisons anyone that doesn’t worship him or doubts him. Unaware of this trick, the villagers are deluded into thinking they’re being protected from disease. Hey Roger, have you heard of Gracefield Royal Hospital? The man they call the Spirit God used to be a doctor there.

(Gracefield Royal Hospital…?)

Roger: The hospital’s been around for a while. There’s a lot of brilliant doctors, but a high turnover rate. Useless doctors were shunned and fired.

Kate: You’re pretty knowledgable.

Roger: They left a long time ago and opened their own private practice, but my old man and his “cherished friend” used to be doctors there.

(A cherished friend…)

There was some warmth in Roger’s voice when he said that.

Roger: With this, all that’s left is getting physical evidence…

Liam: Ah, I also found a medicine cabinet. Roger can tell which one’s poison.

Roger: As expected from our cat. Nice job, Liam.

Liam: I’m glad everything went smoothly.

At that moment, Roger’s eyebrows shot up.

Liam: …Hm, what’s wrong Roger?

Roger: …

His eyes peered into the darkness.

Roger: …I can “hear” people coming from all sides.

Kate: Huh?

Roger: Yeah, there’s quite a few people. Is that how the villagers assemble?

Kate: Are we surrounded?!

Roger: Haha, looks like it. Well, we’ll just have to settle this fast.

Apparently Roger intended to take them head-on.

Liam: Yeah, it’ll be fine. Doesn’t matter how many come at us, we won’t lose.

(Liam too!)

Kate: The entire village has roughly 200 people.

Roger: We can take 100 each.

Kate: Are you insane?!

As we continued bickering, I heard footsteps approaching— 

A candle flames floated in the darkness.

Roger: Here they come.

Man of the village: …I knew you were a threat to our village.

Woman of the village: And they have a friend too. Disgusting, how did he even get in.

Liam: I’ve been here the whole time.

(It was as if the peaceful atmosphere they had greeted us with was all a lie)

The villagers’ eyes were cold and I sensed that they were willing to do anything to eliminate any foreign entities within their sandbox.

They were like mindless puppets controlled by the “Spirit God”.

Man of the village: Spirit God, what should we do with them?

Spirit God: Seize them. I will use my abilities to punish traitors.

Roger sneered at those words.

Roger: Ability, huh? If you were a Cursed One, I’d keep you alive as another on my list of precious test subjects… Too bad you’re not. Liam, go nuts. We’ll capture him.

Liam: …Roger that**

As Liam was about to pounce, daggers gleaming in hand—

A scream erupted in the crowd.

(What just happened?!)

When I realized that the girl lying beside the screaming woman was the little blonde girl who talked to me during dinner, I ran toward her.

Kate: Out of the way!

Woman of the village: What, don’t come any closer.

I was pushed back when I desperately tried to reach the girl lying in pain.

Kate: Now is not the time for this!

Woman of the village: If you hadn’t come here, none of this would’ve happened, you disease-carrying demons!

I saw her raise her hand and braced myself for a slap on the cheek.

(...)

Roger: Enough. We had nothing to do with the girl collapsing.

At the sound of his voice, I opened my eyes and saw Roger holding the woman’s wrist.

Thank you

Sorry for acting on impulse

Please help that girl +4 +4

Kate: Roger, please help that girl.

Roger: Yeah, leave her to me.

With Roger’s intimidating aura parted the crowd, allowing us to reach the girl.

Blonde child: …Ugh…

The girl’s body was stiff. Her eyes were wide open and her limbs were twitching. 

Kate: What do we do, Roger?

Roger: Based on her symptoms, it looks like tetanus. It’s a bacterial infection from a wound that affects the nerves. It makes it difficult to open your mouth, and eventually, it causes muscle spasms and paralysis.

Worst case, those infected will have a hard time breathing and die.

Kate: No way…

Roger: Anway, look for any wounds on the girl.

Roger and I examined the girl’s body and found a scratch on her calf.

Roger: …

Child’s mother: Spirit God! Please cure my child’s illness!

Spirit God: …

The man they called the Spirit God started backing away.

Child’s mother: …What’s wrong? Why aren’t you…

Roger: Relying on this guy’s not gonna do anything. He’s not some guy with special powers. He’s just a quack pretending to ward off disease by poisoning people.

Man of the village: That’s impossible! Our Spirit God’s a child of God granted with special powers!

Roger: Then why isn’t he saving this child in pain? Why didn’t you know she had tetanus until it got to this point? A false god can’t cure disease, but proper medicine can treat tetanus.

Spirit God: He’s lying! Tetanus cannot be treated!

At the Spirit God’s desperate cry, Roger looked at him with pity.

Roger: That’s ‘cause the medical knowledge in that brain of yours is outdated. There’s a treatment for tetanus. However, practical use is a miracle and there’s still some room for improvement.

(A treatment’s been discovered…)

Kate: Really, Roger?

Roger: Yeah. Though only the privileged class has access to it and it’s not available to the common citizen at all.

Spirit God: …Hahaha! If it’s not widely available, then it’s the same as saying she can’t be saved! Ah, that’s right. No one in this world can make diseases completely disappear. And yet, you all put your faith in me…It’s your fault for being foolish enough to put your trust in me.

Girl’s mother: …

With one hand, Roger grabbed the Spirit God by the neck.

Spirit God: Urk?!

As he tightened his grip, the Spirit God’s face began to turn red.

Roger: Did you never learn to let people finish talking while you were in your mama’s womb? Sure, treatment for tetanus isn’t widely available. But if you don’t have it, then you make it.

Spirit God: You can’t possibly…

Roger: As a former doctor, I can.

Next

-

*Here, Roger is speaking more politely and softens himself by using boku as his personal pronoun instead of his usual ore. Originally, Kate goes (Boku? [...]) but changes in JP pronouns don’t translate well in English.

**Ok this time didn’t resist using “roger” for 了解.

[sanjoongie]

Bet!

❦ Pairing: Vampire Hunter! Reader (f) x Vampire! Jake (Enhypen)

❦ Genre: modern vampire au, co-workers to lovers? (think buffy and spike)

❦ Warnings: oral (f receiving), bite kink, exhibitionism, public sex, mentions of blood, hypnosis, death

❦Word Count: 1,195

❦Rating: 18+ MDNI, smut

❦Summary: Jake makes a bet with you. If he can manage to make you cum then he gets to bite you too

❦Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland because they’ll always read what i write, no matter the cost :3 AND @beomgyusbabygirl for listening to me talk about it 😭

You were desperate to keep your hips from twitching upwards but it was almost becoming an impossible mission at this point.

“What’s wrong, Miss Vampire Hunter?” Jake drawled from between your legs, “I thought you said I couldn't possibly make you cum?”

How did you end up in this particular position, you may wonder? Jake was a vampire who was also your informant. If you needed to pursue a rogue vampire or investigate some questionable hypnosis situations, Jake was your go-to guy. Charming with his good boy looks but with a mouth dirtier than a whores, it was an easy choice to keep him an arm's length away. Especially considering the both of you were on two different sides of an on-going, underground war. But then Jake decided to take your distant attitude as a challenge.

“Have you ever been bitten?” Jake asked seemingly nonchalantly as he wrote down an address for you. Seems there had been sightings of a vampire who was luring a girl by pretending to be her dead boyfriend. 

You sent him a look of disbelief that he couldn't possibly see, with his neck bent over the paper he was diligently writing on. “No? Why would you ask?”

Jake shrugged and handed you the paper. “It could have happened while you were staking one of us. I was just curious.”

You rolled your eyes. “Puh-lease,” You drew out the word into two syllables, “Like I’d be dumb enough to let myself get bit.”

Jake cocked his head curiously, tongue playing over his lip piercing. “You’re not even a little bit curious? Don’t you think you should know? To sympathize with the people you save or just to be aware of your profession?”

You shook your head. You moved to take the paper from him. “I don’t think half those vampires know how to bite without tearing your neck apart. Just like most men can’t perform oral.”

Jake frowned deeply. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He hasn’t let go of the paper yet.

“It means,” You frowned back at him, tugging at the paper, “Why would I let some bloodthirsty creature bite me when I can’t even trust a man to--JAKE, GIVE ME THE DAMN PAPER!” You shouted in frustration.

A teasing smile pulled at his charming features. “How 'bout we make a bet then? If I can make you come, I will bite you.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” You said without even contemplating it.

Jake’s smile widened. “What’s wrong? Think you’ll lose that bet?”

“No! Are you even listening to me? If I don’t trust you to bite me, I certainly don’t trust you between my legs!”

Jake nodded resolutely. “I can do it.”

“Sir, you are getting on my nerves,” You growled, shaking a finger at him in warning. 

Then, the bugger had the audacity to capture the tip of your finger between his teeth, his canines showing now. And your pupils blew wide in reaction. Shit.

“Fine! And if you can’t, you will never make another pass at me,” You vowed.

“Scouts Honor,” Jake held two fingers up but they were crossed, not put together. 

Jake escorted you into a nearby alley, where you could still hear the murmur of the crowd and the traffic but far enough that no one would know what was going on unless they walked down the alley itself. Your head hit the brick wall behind you, trying to quell the cord of lust that was winding tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

Jake’s eyes swirled below you and you knew he was triggering a power of his: telepathy.

Go ahead, moan my name, no one can hear you

“I don’t feel the need,” You said through gritted teeth.

Jake’s tongue swirled around your clit lazily, leg still over one of his shoulders. He started to work his middle finger into your hole and you slammed your fist against the brick, hoping for some pain to clear your head. 

Come on, admit it, Jake’s words swirled inside of your head. His tongue was working up your clit and he was already pushing another finger inside of you. You’re enjoying yourself

You tried to think of every poor girl that had ever fallen victim to a hypnosis from a vampire and lured back to his kiss to get sucked dry. You tried to think of the two puncture wounds that had long dried up on a corpse. Anything to keep your impending orgasm from exploding over you but it was starting to become a lost cause.

Make a mess of my face so I can bite you

That was the last shred of sanity you had left. You cried out desperately, loudly and with enthusiasm as pleasure raced through all of your nerves. Damn, Jake knew how to give head. And just as your orgasm washed through you, Jake moved his mouth to your plush thigh and bit down delicately. Tiny streams of blood pushed from the small holes he created and he licked those lines like you were a melting popsicle. 

"Oh my god," You exclaimed, breathing heavily.

"Jake, actually. Thought you'd have learned that by now," Jake quipped. He daintily licked the holes to seal them and sat back on his heels, letting your leg down.

You pulled down your short skirt quickly. You always dressed like a slut on the hunt for a vampire fang bang, just in case anyone was suspicious of a lonely human wandering into the vampire section of town. You were starting to think that figuratively was biting you in the ass.

"Are you satisfied?" You grumbled, "Our working relationship is ruined now, you damn vampire."

Jake slammed an open hand against the brick, cracking the stone and allowing a poof of dust to fall around you. "That's Mister Vampire to you, Miss Vampire Hunter."

You rolled your eyes. "Is my blood that invigorating, Jakey?" You cooed, not intimidated in the slightest.

Jake was back to his charming self. "To answer your question, no, I'm not satisfied. I'm high on your blood and I have a raging hard on."

Your eyes moved down to his slacks and the clear dick imprint against them. Your eyes moved back up to meet with his brown ones, swirling with red. "I did not sign up for that."

Jake started to play with his lip ring again. "So you're fine with me finding relief with someone else then?"

You narrowed your eyes at the vampire who was suddenly even more cocky, or was it borderline confident? "Jake, I told you, I never want to hear about what you do as a vampire. I just need your information. I don't want to muck about in that gray area and have to hunt you down."

Jake looked smug now. "Well, apparently you need my tongue and fangs now as well."

You visibly winced at his remark. Fuck. 

Want to bet that I can't make you come again?

"Get out of my head, Jake," You growled. Your fingers inched towards the stake you kept firmly between your breasts.

"Only if I can get between your thighs again~"

You sighed. "Who needs who again?"

[annie-creates]

Never felt like dying

Pairing: Andromache of Scythia x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1200

Note: I'm back with another Andromache fic. I don't condone abuse so that fic won't have another part but here's a better one for you. Thank you all for the support and love I'm getting.

“Get your ass back in the game Y/n,” you’ve heard for what felt like the hundredth time.

Andromache was never too soft with you, that could anyone confess. It was hard to tell if it was because she tried really hard to make you one of the best warriors in the field, or if she just genuinely didn’t like you. Your money would be on the second option. Your coming onto the team was much less than ideal, but they couldn’t exactly kick you out even if they wanted to. Or maybe they could and that’s why you put up with the harsh orders rather than test her patience.

“Look alive!” Andy commanded with another set of punches into your stomach you could hardly defend against. “You don’t want to be a burden to our mission, do you?!”

“No…” you answered, insecure face to face with the greatest warrior in human history.

“You don’t want to jeopardize anyone in a fight, do you?!” She asked again.

“No,” you had trouble keeping eye contact when she got so worked up.

“Then pick up your slack, we can’t keep babying you,” Andy seemed she’d happily continue scolding you if she wasn’t interrupted.

“Hey you two, dinner’s ready. Wrap it up for today,” called Joe from the door, your savior for today. “How’s it goin’?” he asked Andy as she passed him.

“I wish I could say it’s going anywhere…” she wasn’t venomous, but her words still hurt you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to get better, every day you got up early to train with the punching bag or run a few laps before most of them even woke up. You never opposed in training that took hours on end, leaving with bruises and broken bones almost daily. But whatever you did you didn’t seem to be able to cross the difference in performance between yourself and the rest of the team. Even Nile, who said wasn’t immortal for more than a few decades, was very obviously miles ahead of you.

As you washed your hands and looked over your bruised face with a black eye in the mirror, you didn’t even feel worthy eating with them. Here they were saving the world day after day and you were more of a burden than help to them. Maybe you should stop trying to play the hero, it was painfully obvious you didn’t have what they had and after months, it didn’t seem like you could ever get on their level, even if you kept taking Andromache’s punches for centuries.

“Hey Y/n, you okay?” Joe asked seeing you deep in thought.

“Yea, I’m fine,” you tried to hide the bruises you felt embarrassed about. “I’m not really hungry anymore guys, thank you. Good night.”

You abruptly left the plate you hardly took anything from and almost ran out of the dinning room not leaving any space for argument. You knew everyone was trying to make you feel welcomed, but it was hard fitting into a group who was together for centuries and only just met you. It wasn’t fair expecting them to just accept you in like that either, but you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Knock on your door snaps you out of your thoughts but you don’t answer, pretending to be asleep. Yet the door opens anyway.

“Can I come in?” Andy asks, there was no way she could be fooled.

“Sure,” you let her in not turning around to look at her.

“You know, when we met Nile, she was a marine cop,” Andromache sits on the edge of your bed nudging your form wrapped in the duvet a little. “And Joe and Nicky literally fought against each other in a war.”

“So?” you say after a heavy sign while she’s lightly smiling after amusing herself.

“So, you shouldn’t feel down just because you’re not as good as they are. They’ve been at this for centuries and even before that, you only just died for the first time…” she wondered off no doubt remembering the time they first met you.

“I bet you wish you didn’t find me back then,” you admit before you can stop and think about what you’re saying.

“That’s not true,” Andy argues with a bit of hurt in her eyes by your words.

“You said it yourself, I’m not getting any better. I’m useless,” you counter, not having a problem being eye to eye with her now.

“Well that was a little over the top…” she admits. “I have to be strict with you in training, that’s how we get better. But it doesn’t mean I hate you… You are part of this team Y/n. And that means we protect you. I always protect you.”

“You’d probably be better off without me,” you say.

“That’s not true. Everyone has a reason why they were chosen for this life, even if you’re not the greatest fighter of all. And I see how hard you work every day, and you have no idea how much I appreciate it,” she seemed very genuine so you decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe what she was saying.

The briefing for your next mission came sooner than you’d expect it, and you felt much better about taking the job with everybody else. You still didn’t want for anyone to have to risk for you, so you worked to hold your own as best as possible. In the building however, you quickly counted you were outnumbered and you soon lost the view of who fired which bullet, who threw all the punches and how many wounds you all got. Screams and shouts of order were falling from both sides, soldiers hitting the floor left and right.

“Watch out!” you screamed at Nile pulling her from the trajectory of another bullet.

You saw her shouting something back, but you couldn’t really make out what she was saying. It took a few seconds to register in your brain that something is wrong, and that wrong was a bullet in your chest leaving a wound that was quicky seeping out all your blood. You thought how disappointed they’re gonna be in you before your vision faded into darkness and you hardly heard your own body hit the floor.

You came to yourself in a moving car, unsure of your surroundings for a moment before you realized your head was prompted on somebody’s lap. It was still throbbing but the ringing in your ears was quicky fading. You never felt like dying for someone but now it was inevitable, and something told you that just like it wasn’t the first time, it wasn’t your last either.

“We’ve got her back,” Andromache announced from above you with a relief heavy on her tone. “How you feelin’?”

“Like I was hit by a wall of bricks,” you admit groggily, looking into her happy face as she stroked your hair.

“We’ll work on your self-awareness,“ she promises with a little smile.

“Good, I don’t feel like dying anymore,” you laugh with the team as they take you back to safety.

Andromache was right in one thing, they’ll always have your back.

[chaifootsteps]

You talked about a Biscuits Braxby interview with stolas and I can’t forget about it now

Imagine the first one is him crying about his arranged marriage, bitch wife, mean dad, woe is me but he found true love and Via didn’t understand she was so cruel and brainwashed by her mom, and the audience all cries for him. When asked about the grimoire lending he laughs like it was a consensual misunderstanding but he smoothed things over, after all he gifted him a crystal, Blitzø just finds love hard that’s all. He enjoyed it. As for Octavia, it was all a misunderstanding as well, stolas might even laugh it off as her teen hormones at it again! He just wishes we could know how sorry he is.

Interview 2 goes very differently. Braxby starts asking where he first met Blitzø and fell for him, and she doesn’t mean the party. She means the circus. How old was he when he was taken to the palace? Did his mother know he was taken away? How much did Paimon pay for him? Is stolas and his dad used to purchasing imps for company, even children? How could he be friendless all these years if that’s the case. It gets bigger, Braxby starts revealing to us that stolas has a terrible relationship to his siblings, who are somehow all close with each other. That’s odd isn’t it? She says Stella throws balls and has friends yet stolas has never spoken to another member of the court in a friendly way, only his servant imps? Of course the abuse the servants endured by him gets out. And it’s not just Stella. It’s worse than even we have seen. He performed experiments on them. Stolas demands to know who exposed this only to be none other than Octavia who took videos. (Running out of text here but) Everything starts rolling, what stolas really did at LooLoo land pretending to be in danger and flirting in front of via

BB: “you told your seventeen year old daughter ‘people want our money and our bodies did you not? Quite the fatherly message to your child, that people want her body. Furthermore, you said being part of the Goetia family is valuable. I’m talking now. despite knowing you are a targeted figure, you refuse to order qualified legions whose job is protecting you and your family, to demand three impoverished imps, who you entice with money, to do it? Then you act surprised that you’re a target later down the line just to reprimand this singular imp for not being your sole and only bodyguard. Here’s what I think. It’s not about you feeling unsafe, friendless, or loveless, it’s always this one imp. Who you coerce with money. As your child companion, and 25 years later as your prostitute, now as your bodyguard. You don’t see a pattern here? Despite knowing how valuable Goetia status is, by your own words, you claim to not understand the class dynamic, the power dynamic? Do you only engage in the company of imps and refuse to socialise with your peers and blame it on a woman, of course—because you enjoy having power over others? Has there ever been an imp in your life who you haven’t ordered around?”

Shed go into how manipulative and vile LooLoo land was, how stolas will not hire security but force the same imp he’s coercing into sex to be his guard despite his protest, Loona having to chase after via while stolas watched Blitzø on a stage he pushed him onto. Stolas possessing humans once before to locate imp and the book but somehow not being able to find via by himself? Well—stolas says—of course he actually knew where she was but—-he was desperate! Blitzø wouldn’t answer his texts! He was angry he wouldn’t play along! He just took the opportunity for a little day out! He felt bad but Blitzø ordered Loona to find her so it was okay! His life revolved around via isn’t he allowed to be with the partner of his choosing for a day? And Braxby asks stolas if this is the same Loona Blitzø had to get a hellbies shot for while stolas was pretending to be in danger and relying on Blitzø yet again.

I imagine Blitzø as the Princess Carolyn here. Octavia as a Sarah Lynn. Suddenly Blitzø is feeling like he’s wearing clown makeup and a red nose all over again. After the interview stolas says Blitzø has to save him, but Blitzø says he needs to get back to his daughter.

Viv, please do this scene. I had a blast writing it.

Absolutely do not let Viv do this scene. She'd forget all about the second interview and the point of Biscuits Braxby and just have her kiss Stolas's ass for 20 minutes.

[cyarsk52-20]

As a Black woman, I'm done with WW. You always betray other women, especially Black women for your whiteness, privilege and the adjacency to white patriarchal power. Nope, not falling for anymore of this performative BS.

Given that 55% of white women gaslit us all and voted for Mayo Mao anyway? Nah. Can’t trust any of you and I’m certainly not risking my life or those of my friends and family protesting the bullshit that YOU WHITE WOMEN VOTED FOR. Fuck off! ATP with a few exceptions all hews are trash and backstabbing b words because they don’t care about the country and democracy. I been betrayed by them thrice and now they need to suffer.

Y'ALL MARCHED LAST TIME THEN TURNED RIGHT AROUND AND INCREASED YOUR PERCENTAGE VOTING FOR HIM. Black women will be minding our own. This is a WHITE WOMAN problem. Oh, BTW DiKKKtator Drumpf is going to slaughter you for protesting! You’re all dead! “but give us grace “

biiitch what? Grace is dead says the black woman!

No. Black women don't owe you shit, period. They have CONSISTENTLY carried our Democracy at EACH AND EVERY ELECTION. Ww need to do their part own fucking work and stop expecting them to save their asses AGAIN!!!

like FUCK THAT!!!!

If y’all can Google new recipes for meatloaf- or keep up with the release of new Stanley Cup designs - you can Google stuffs to educate yourselves.

Black folks got lied to again. Three times you yts lied We no longer have sympathy for folks who pretend they want to vote Democrat but then vote Republican and then lie about it. You are no longer trusted and as of now you’re on your own for the next four years. I will trust no white person I didn’t see with us or who I don’t know personally. Let them enjoy hell on their own!

That cap on rx costs? 35 bucks for insulin? You motherfuckers are literally gonna die of whiteness & the colonized minded assholes willing to die for that pale adjacency. You’ll be “one of the good ones” in hell with your demon faves.

Pelosi was on TV boasting about how she’s the King Maker, and House was going to gain dozens of Dem seats; she knows how to “count votes,” blah…blah…blah! This is karma for her hubris, betrayal and cozying up to Hollywood and Wall Street elites! Fuck Carville and Clooney too!

If Kamala Harris runs again. SHE HAS MY SUPPORT 100% AGAIN!! They wanted her to move mountains from 7/21/24-11/4/24. Hell, Joe Biden should have been moved his ass out the way. And his team inside that circle should have had more respect for her as VP those first 2.5 years.

and when the ish hits the fan remember the fruck arse HEWS that would rather have a convicted felon than a more than qualified BLACK FEMALE running the country because the price of eggs were too high. This country deserves to burn I’m going to piss on the ashes!

This election confirms what we learned in 2016: White women would rather live under the boot of a white man that stand in solidarity with black women. Oh and Latino women and men? Fuck you too. No more taco Tuesday in my house for the next two to four years

you know who I’m cool with: the Jewish peeps.

I want to thank the Jewish community(as well as the real ones from other communities) for having Black People back. The rest can suck it.

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Red Gardenias

❒ pairing: Jungkook x 8thmember!OC

❒ genre: Romance

❒ words: 11k+

❒ summary: In which a bouquet of flowers can be worth more than a thousand words

❒ warnings: None I guess

❒ notes: The first part is set at the London stage of the Love yourself World Tour, but Jungkook didn't got injured; Inspired by a prompt found here on Tumblr; Bold and Italic at the same time indicates a sentence said in English. CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

October 2018; London

"You know, this whole thing has really got on my nerves."

She'd lost count. She'd fucking lost count of how many times, since the beginning of their tour, gals tried to sleep with her boyfriend. Fucking groupies. 

At the end of concerts, in the backstage area, they were constantly being introduced to the group as 'sisters' of... 'cousins' of… 'friends' of...

She could not totally blame the girls , in the opposite scenario she would have also taken advantage of acquaintances in order to meet loved celebrities, but from here to shamelessly hit on them would have been beyond belief.

"You know I don't even look at them."

Chaeri walked fast, slipping off the stage gloves she had kept on during the last performance. She glanced sideways at her boyfriend, who was supporting her pace smoothly

"That doesn't piss me off any less, and you know it."

"I know but-"

"If I could just tell everyone that I am your girlfriend these things wouldn't happen anymore."

The sentence barely whispered, but clear enough for him to hear.

There could certainly have been many benefits in being the only girl within a group with 7 other men, but the basic rule of not being able to establish romantic relationships with each other in any way made it all very tough when you were madly in love with one of your bandmates. They were quick to arrive at the door of the changing room where Chaeri would undress and shower before getting into the vehicle that would take them back to the hotel. Jungkook made sure they were alone and away from prying eyes before taking her face in his hands. His eyes filled with bitterness for what even he could hardly tolerate

"I know, love. But we have to keep this up for a while longer, we can't risk it now."

Chaeri closed her eyes and abandoned her face against the boy's hand, and the anger flowed out of her body as if drained in one go. The mere touch of her boyfriend had the power to calm her and keep her hot head at bay.

“Don’t you see how messed up is this?” Jungkook had no need to look into her eyes, which were currently closed, to sense his girlfriend's discomfort “We have to pretend like we’re not together, just to please a bunch of old men in suits?”

“It’s not just about pleasing them. It’s about protecting ourselves. We could ruin everything we and the other members’ve worked so hard for”

Chaeri took a step back, moving away from the gentle touch the boy reserved only for her “I get that, but it’s killing me to keep this a secret. I want to be able to hold your hand in public, to kiss you whenever I want. Is that so much to ask?”

“No, it’s not. But we have to be smart about this. We can’t just throw everything away on a whim. We have to plan carefully”

Chaeri was aware everything Jungkook was trying to tell her was reasonable, yet she could not tame the negative feelings she was feeling at that moment.

“How long do we have to keep this up? One more year? Two-Five years?!” Her voice rose without her being able to control it, she was getting nervous again

Jungkook moved closer to her, his finger on his lips to make her speak quieter. Their chests almost touched and Chaeri's back was pressed against the door of her dressing room

“I don’t know, but we will find a way to make it work. We always do” Jungkook's voice was so soft that it was hardly audible to her, only because they were awfully close

“I just don’t want to look back on our lives and regret not being honest about who we are”

“And I don’t want that either. We have to be patient. We’ll find a way to be together, in public, without risking everything we’ve worked for”

“Sometimes I think this situation is preventing me from feeling loved in the right way"

His fingers stroked her cheeks and yet there were no further words between them, knowing that what Chaeri said was the truth for them both.

October 2018; Netherlands

It took a WHOLE night - literally - for Chaeri and Taehyung. A whole night of flying and then a car ride to convince the staff in charge of their schedule to slightly alter the well-organised plan they had drawn up months ago.

They had just landed in the Netherlands, Amsterdam to be precise, after leaving the night after their last show in London

As usual whenever they were about to visit a city for the first time, Chaeri and Tae had spent the hours before the flight scouring online for all types of information about the place. One of the results at the top of the long list - right after the world-famous Red Light District - was the 'Keukenhof Gardens' only about 30 km away from the city.

As lovers of aesthetics, the two had set themselves the task of finding time to visit the site.

It was not simple, though, to convince the staff who were rather stubborn about using the limited time they had available for productive use. They were rather quick to give them permission when the boy casually proclaimed that if he couldn't see the flowers, well, he would surely go in search of some other kind of plants. If you know what I mean.

"I read there are many shops in the Red Light District that sell this kind of th-" "We said OK Taehyung, stop it." "I was just saying that-" "No" "Unnie, let him finish what he was saying" "I've had enough of both of you. Been hearing you brats talking all night, please let me sleep at least in the car" "God, thank you. I couldn't stand them any longer either." "Yoongi hyung!" "Shush"

. . . . . ◟੭

The pictures on internet nowhere compared to how beautiful the place was in real life.

As they arrived to the Keukenhof Gardens, all of them were immediately struck by the beauty and vibrancy of the flowers. The gardens were bursting with millions of colorful tulips, daffodils, hyacinths, and other flowers, creating a stunning display of nature's beauty. “The gardens cover over 32 hectares and feature over 800 varieties of tulips, making it one of the largest flower gardens in the world”

The presence of a guide made the experience even more complete, except though Chaeri hardly understood anything he said. Luckily their trusted translator had followed them and made every single word understandable even to her ears.

“The gardens were originally created in the 15th century as a kitchen garden for the nearby castle. They were then transformed into a flower garden in the 19th century, and have since become one of the most popular tourist attractions in the Netherlands.”

“Joon, can you ask him which section of the gardens is his favorite?”

RM, only a few steps away from her, agreed to her request only after telling her that one day they would have to resume their English lessons

“Oh, that's a tough one” The guide replied, pointing his eyes at her “I think the English landscape garden is particularly beautiful, with its relaxed and natural feel. But I also love the South Asian garden, which is known to have some rather rare flower colours”

After patiently waiting for a translation to the man's words, with her imperfect English she said “I wanna see it”

“I'd like to draw your attention to the beautiful Red Gardenia. This flower has a rich history and symbolism attached to it, and I'm sure you'll find it fascinating”

She spotted that flower just a second before the guide mentioned it. Squatting down on her knees, she lowered herself to its level, wanting to admire its magnificence better.

“In many cultures, the Red Gardenia is associated with secret or forbidden love. It's said that giving someone a red gardenia is a way of expressing your love and affection for them, even if you can't do so openly. The flower represents the passion and intensity of a secret romance, and the longing to be with someone you cannot fully have”

She couldn't stop the direction her eyes took, straight towards Jungkook, only to find that he had also had the same response.

He also crouched down, quietly, to study the flower closer.

"Funny how such a majestic blossom can symbolize something to be kept secret" The girl was tempted to caress with her fingertips the silky petals just a palm away from her nose, but the rules about 'look but don't touch' did not allow her to do so.

"Perhaps that's exactly the reason. The more majestic something is, the more you want to protect it and keep it secret." Jungkook.

They were still talking about gardenias, weren't they? . . . . . ◟੭

She was exhausted. The tour had been going on for months and the fatigue of all the wonderful nights spent singing and dancing with the fans was starting to take its toll. Chaeri was like this, in a rush of adrenaline and energy as long as her body was moving but at the exact moment she stopped, her eyes so heavy she could barely keep them open.

She waved quickly to Yoongi, Jimin, Hobi and Jin who, like her, were one by one entering their hotel rooms. They all shared the same floor. Of the other three she only knew that they had gone to get something to eat at the hotel restaurant, but she was too sleepy even to do that.

Chaeri swiped her magnetic card over the door lock to trigger it, the lights inside turned on automatically. The bed was a mess with the inside of her suitcase almost entirely spilled onto the sheets. When she had left that morning, she was far too in a hurry to put things away. She was regretting it so bad.

Okay, she was going to take a shower then pack and finally go to sleep. She walked into the room as she began to shrug off her jacket and boots, then her eyes picked up something that did not blend in with the faded white colors of the room.

A bouquet of red flowers rested on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

Not simple red flowers, but red gardenias.

She approached the bouquet and was hit with a wave of sweet, floral fragrance. The gardenias were carefully arranged in a tall glass vase, with their vibrant petals not yet fully open to reveal their intricate centres.

As she looked at them, Chaeri noticed that some of the flowers were slightly wilted, as if they had been left out of water for too long. She couldn't help but wonder if this was a reflection of their own relationship in recent weeks. Wedged between the stems, a small note. She didn't need to read the signature at the bottom of it to know from whom they had been sent.

I love you just as much as I always have, even if others can't see it

Her heart softened. That love consumed her and put her back together every day.

She headed back to the door, without shoes or jacket, determined to reach him.

How stupid could she have been to spend the time between them complaining rather than making the most of it?

All she had to do was take a step outside to literally end up sent back inside.

Jungkook was right there in front of her, one fist still raised in the gesture of knocking on the door.

"I was just about to…" She didn't give him a chance to finish what he was about to say, she grabbed onto his hoodie and dragged him into the room, closing the door behind her.

She lifted herself up on her toes to reach his lips, as if they had been water after a long time in the desert.

Her hands ended up in his hair and pulled the points of it.

He was hers, regardless of whether others saw them or not. Hers. Hers. Hers.

Life had given her a blessing and she wasn't going to waste it.

Jungkook bent down just enough to grip her thighs with his hands and pull her up, making her cling to his body better

"This leads me to assume that you liked my flowers"

Chaeri laughed against his lips "Very clever of you"

He carried and placed her to the bed, exactly on top of all the clothes strewn on the sheets. He snuggled right between her legs, again reaching to be a breath away from her face. He placed his forehead against hers, making their noses touch "We'll figure this out. Together." "Together."

Chaeri suddenly felt hopeful. They were going to make it work. Wouldn't have it any other way.

+ The next day Chaeri was photographed by paparazzi at the airport with a beautiful gardenia in her hair

[therosebunpost]

Inspired by true events of my life, I give you yet another story idea:

(Also inspired by a conversation I had with a friend after they so wonderfully listened to me ramble about two dudes from the 80s for hours on end. You are an absolute real one my dude)

But basically let me set the scene for you. Reader is in their 20s (I turned 22 during this event, though any where in the 20s range is fine), and they largely have felt like they’re life has passed them by. Their high-school experience wasn’t very note worthy, they’ve never been on an actual date, hell they haven’t even kissed anybody. (Hahahaha! I wasn’t kidding about that true events thing my dudes. 👁👁) So, this year they’ve decided they’re going to try and have as many experiences as they could. Obviously they want to have more experiences after one year, but it’s easier to think one year at a time.

On their birthday, they’re checking off a few boxes. 1. See a live performance. 2. Go axe throwing and hang out at a bar. Lucky for her, they have a mall that can do both! So, reader gets all dressed up to go out and see this cover band. Shes alone largely by choice but also she doesn’t have a lot of friends, vibing to the music until the intermission which is where she meets Steve. Steve, who was sitting at the table beside them, feels sympathy over the fact that she’s alone. (He may have had a few drinks, so he’s feeling just a bit more emotional and reminiscent over his own days of loneliness. Plus he’s with his friends, so the contrast just hits him.)

Reader casually mentions it’s their birthday and they came because they didn’t have anyone else to go with, is unaware they’ve made a terrible mistake. Steve, who is now fueled with alcohol and extroverted ambition, sneaks away to tell Eddie of this. “It’s her birthday Munson! Come onnn, please?” Eddie obviously can’t say no to Steve, so when he walks out on stage, he gets the whole band to sing happy birthday to her.

Reader is mortified. Especially as Steve plops back down, all smiley and sweet, so she can’t even really be upset with him. She pretends to be happy, even tipping the band after their performance because she just has to now. Unaware to her though, Eddie’s been watching from the sidelines and could see the horror, so he pulls Steve aside.

“You…asked her if she wanted us to sing her that, right?”

“Wha- Why would i do that?? It would have ruined the surprise!”

“Steve.” Eddie directs him to look at her again, at the way she seems to wince when people wish her happy birthday as they leave. “I think she was trying to keep a low profile, dude. She was alone, no birthday stuff in sight. Usually if they have birthday celebrations the place would have notified us already.”

“….Oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah…”

Steve starts ahead, fully intending to apologize, Eddie following after him incase things go south. He tries not to wince when Reader looks spooked as the two approach her. “I’m..so sorry, I didn’t realize you might have been trying to keep a low profile! It’s just, well, my boyfriend is in the band and I thought it’d be a fun surprise- I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Eddie comes up behind him, clapping him on the back with a chuckle. “He really didn’t mean to scare you, Sweetheart. Stevie here just gets a little over excited. Hope you liked the show at least?”

Just a tad intimidated by having not just one, but two attractive guys talking to her, Reader is quick to nod. “It’s fine! Really, I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to tell anybody. I really should have kept to that, you didn’t know. The show was great, thank you.” Then after a few more words, Reader turns to leave, but not before hearing Eddie as he leans close to Steve. “I don’t blame you for wantin’ to impress her Harrington, she’s real pretty.” Cue flustered Reader all but booking it away.

So, you’re probably wondering where the axe throwing comes in, right? Well, instead of just one day to celebrate their birthday, Reader is having a birthday week! So, the next day they go back to the mall where there’s an Axe throwing lane and a bar. Once again shes alone, and shes determined not to let anybody know it’s her birthday. She’s just going to have a fun, low key time chucking axes, and hanging out at the bar. Well, that was the plan until her server turns out to be Steve Harrington. Steve, who may have accidentally let it slip to Robin that it’s Reader’s birthday, who is now apologizing again after Robin makes a big deal out of it.

Basically, Reader just can’t get peace because of Steve’s inability to understand the idea of flying under the radar.

I’m thinking it could be a whole series of blurbs of different experiences that Reader could go on with Steve and Eddie!

[heartz4shauna]

Please tell me your thoughts on him, you said you have many (about snow) my only thought I’ve ever felt about him is the urge to punch a wall or something

i’m gonna talk about this using voice to text so sorry if there’s a lot of filler words

okay, so oh my gosh, okay so we are going to refer him as C because I don’t think this feature can understand the name that he has. so basically at the start of the movie we see him as a very like he’s obviously a young child at the start and you know that’s all tragic and whatever you know. he has to like- I don’t know what I’m talking about. we’re gonna talk about him as like when he is at the Academy first he’s walking into the Academy and he’s like low-key talking shit about his best friend. oh my God oh my God, I just had a realisation. I’m gonna freaking cry right now. I’m gonna freaking cry right now, okay spoilers his best friend dies pretty much at the hands of him like Jackie and Shauna y’all I can’t freaking do this right now. I can’t do this but we move okay? Oh my God oh my God so basically like he’s talking shit about his best friend, and then his best friend comes over and they’re all you know happy dippidy dooda. you know whatever but then we’re gonna talk about, the reaping. Lucy 😵‍💫 Gray was chosen obviously, we see him and he’s like oh my gosh like this girl she is so whimsical I am intrigued and you know he was nice. I think he was nice to Lucy 😵‍💫 like at the start. I don’t know why it keeps using that emoji when I say Lucy 😵‍💫 I’m sorry, I think they were okay at the start of the mentor tribute relationship. I think that was good. I thought they had a good relationship. I thought they were pretty cute like I like them. Not want to start dating because I knew like it would go downhill and strings would have to be pulled to get Lucy 😵‍💫 to win and then C yeah he starts becoming really like protective and not even protective like there’s really like controlling over Lucy 😵‍💫 and so there’s a part and where I think C like shoots someone I think C shoots someone backstage where Lucy 😵‍💫 is trying to perform like she’s trying to sing and you know she’s sobbing she’s crying she’s like oh my God like what the Frick is happening. and C is just like get the Frick back onto stage and you’re gonna pretend like nothing happened and it’s all gonna be fine and she’s just like okay like boyfriend like yeah sure I’ll do that whatever. and then running away to the woods and they stop at this little cabin I guess Lucy 😵‍💫 says she’s going to pick katniss, she’s gonna pick some swamp potato which she previously said was not ready for the season so then C is like this is weird. This is suspicious. I’m gonna kill you. I don’t want you to run away from me. You know that I’m crazy now but I don’t want you to go away so if you run away, I’m gonna kill you because you know all my secrets and I also don’t want you to leave and I’m a freak and I’m a weirdo and then, he hears that Katniss everdeen was reaped. He’s like I got to kill this bitch. I need her dead, she reminds me of my situationship I had when I was like 19 years old. She has to die. sorry for rambling. I had to get my chest. I needed to say something, thank you.

[project-aphelion]

05.24.2023 - Chapter 7

Word Count

> Chapter 7: 4632

> Total: 41464

Whale whale whale. The last time I updated was in June 2022. It’s basically been a whole year. What happened? I’m glad you asked!

First: I was just getting kinda tired or and burnt out by this story. It’s quite large and there’s quite a bit of intricate worldbuilding and backstories that weave through the narrative, so it uses up a Lot of my problem-solving brainpower. I got stuck in chapters 6 and 7 and couldn’t get unstuck, so I decided it was time to take a break from APHELION.

Second: But that doesn’t mean I stopped writing! I moved onto my backup wip, SUDDENCE, which is much smaller in scale and much shorter. I thought of it as my breath of fresh air, and I reasoned that if I managed to finish a draft of it, it would make me realize that i CAN write a whole story, and I would get a new surge of motivation and confidence for APHELION.

And what do ya know! I finished draft 2 of SUDDENCE last week! It clocks in at 49k words (which is more than what APHELION has so far, which is. wild) and it taught me a valuable lesson: KEEP IT SUPER SIMPLE. My problem with APHELION was that it was much, much, much too complicated for no good reason, and I had to learn how to pare things back.

That’s something I kinda knew for a while, but working on SUDDENCE really just drove it home, and it gave me practice for how to simplify things.

What’s Different?

So anyway! I know I skipped Chapter 6 (oops) but I finished Chapter 7, which is Rian’s chapter. In this one, he struggles with the idea of running away and having his own life vs. staying and helping ~save the world~. “Saving the world sounds pretty noble, why would he run from that?” BECAUSE you see the people he works with (or rather, for) may not have entirely noble intentions and helping them might end up (and did) hurt people. And Rian doesn’t want that on his conscience! But if he runs away, he loses his avenue to do good to the world because he’s just a 13-year-old kid. He doesn’t have the resources and know-how to run around and perform miracles. Plus, he hates being on his own. This kid’s got a lot going on.

Changed:

The entire second half of the chapter was changed. Originally Rian is asked to perform an interrogation with his superpowers, and it goes on for a while, and it leads to this whole thing of him accidentally implicating Cay etc etc ANYWAY that was the part that was definitely too complicated for no reason, so now Rian just pretends he has a headache and manages to get out of doing it. The whole thing about Cay was just taken out entirely (it was too plot-conveniency anyway).

I also rearranged the general order of events. Can’t go too much into it because #spoilers.

Excerpt! Here’s Rian and Holly, AKA his only friend in the world.

Holly sighed through her nose and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ri. I know you don’t feel well. Eat as much as you can, alright? I can help you eat the rest.” She tugged at one of his curls, frowning slightly. “And then we can do something about this hair—”

“I don’t want to cut it.” The words came out stuck together like jam. He felt awful for talking back, and he didn’t know why. Just yesterday he had threatened to shoot her. Why did this feel like crossing a line?

“You don’t want to cut it?” Holly tucked the lock of hair behind his ear. “What about just a little trim? So we can get this”—she drew her finger across his brow, sweeping the hair once more out of his eyes— “out of the way? Would that be alright?”

Rian didn’t see a point in arguing, so he nodded.

Holly smiled. “Okay, then. Now eat your breakfast. It’s good, I promise.”

His breakfast is pancakes, btw.

Up next: finishing Chapter 6. It’s actually mostly done, and there’s just a bit of action in the middle I have to figure out. This is a loooong one.

In other news: I’m rereading the Grisha Trilogy now that I finally got my hands on physical copies. My kinda odd opinion is that while everyone seems to hate how slow and political the second book is, I kinda like that aspect. I think Bardugo is veryyyy good at political intrigue, which is why I liked the first half of King of Scars but not the second half and why I probably will never finish that duology.

C’est tout!

-Emily

[robboybot]

Because I just KNOW people on Twitter can’t handle being corrected and I’m not looking to be mobbed today I’m gonna say it here instead

That whole “respect people because you don’t know what they’re going through” thing isn’t exactly the ideal motto and is kind of garbage.

Why do we have to live pretending everyone is secretly suffering or “going through it” for them to deserve basic respect??? Why can’t people just, idk, have basic compassion for other people without them having to play the suffering Olympics to prove they deserve respect lmfao. Why should someone’s medical history be public to defend their right to their own autonomy???

This is in response to a tiktok posted on Twitter of a cis woman defending her cis sister being misgendered because she had breast cancer and basically laid out her entire medical history as a reasoning for “why she looks like a tomboy” (her wording not mine), and that the person misgendering her was given a “gotcha, you made fun of a cancer patient so you should feel bad for misgendering her” instead of. Idfk, hey! This person you don’t know presenting gender differently shouldn’t be misgendered because it’s transphobic, homophobic, and sexist?? And their presentation of gender isn’t your fuckin business lmao??

It’s ableist sure to assume everyone can perform gender when they’ve suffered illnesses that don’t allow them to “look a gender” but also… why should we be pitying the “poor disabled people” (like myself) for not being able to “look their gender” instead of targeting the fact we deserve basic damn respect to present how we want? Spend your energy calling out how transphobia and homophobia on gender presentation is inherently linked to ableism, sexism, and so much more instead.

I’m sorry to those who suffer in ways that stop them from presenting the way they want because of medical conditions (hell I have that too), but for the love of god we deserve not to be misgendered not because we might be suffering. the problem is PEOPLE JUST SHOULDN’T MISGENDER PERIOD out of basic decency because it’s none of their business!!!

The whole “you don’t know what someone is going through” shtick doesn’t help anyone because now everyone is putting out their insanely personal information and medical histories just to justify being allowed to exist. I’m sick of it.

people need to stop thinking they’re properly defending the right to gender presentation when in reality they’re just supporting a whole other harmful ableist idealism. People shouldn’t misgender because it’s fucking misgendering. End of story. Cis or trans, doesn’t matter who the person is or what their condition is. It’s bigoted and wrong to use the wrong pronouns. You don’t have to justify defending someone from misgendering with a story, defend them because it’s a basic human right to autonomy for us to be respected in our identity and how we present our appearances.

Tear down the stupid binary of how you see masculinity and femininity, including the one in your head, and maybe you’ll stop misgendering people.

It goes deeper than that but I’m tired and done lol. Also if you have no reading comprehension, no I’m not saying that person wasn’t wrong for misgendering a cancer survivor, but the reasoning of why they shouldn’t have done so should NOT be because she had cancer.

[handful0fteeth]

hot for teacher

summary: you’re going on your first date with steve harrington, and hours before he’s due to pick you up your best friend gives you some rather unsavory information.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, dirty talk, (slight) rough sex

words: 13.6k

EDIT (09/24/2023): i am not a “no beta we die like men” person, but this?? she was not up to my standards. so i fixed her! enjoy ya horny bastards

"You know I heard Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

This announcement from your best friend is enough to make you choke on the mouthful of sandwich you're chewing on and spew chunks of it all over the table.

You drop your food noisily back onto its plate and reach for your drink, struggling to breathe while there's still turkey and lettuce lodged in your esophagus. The diner's patrons ogle you as you attempt to collect yourself, some concerned, some plain annoyed.

"Christ, dude!" Kelsey laughs, leaning over the table and thumping you hard on your back. You wave her hand off and guide your straw into your mouth, desperately gulping down Coke with one hand pressed to your chest as if that’ll ensure the food doesn't take a wrong turn on the way down.

"You have to - fuck, dude - you have to give a girl some warning before you just say shit like that, Kels," you sputter. You wipe a hand across your damp eyes and take a couple of steadying breaths, and finally, the reality of what Kelsey just said hits you. You look up and blink away the tears to get a clear look at her.

"Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?" you ask quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention. Kelsey nods, a smug grin plastered across her face. "Apparently, it's like a dog trying to drink water," she giggles. "Katie Kaspbrak went out with him last week, and she's been telling everyone how God-awful he is at head."

"Katie Kaspbrak? The same girl who swore half of the staff at school was in love with her?" You lean back against the cool vinyl of the booth and cough lightly, suddenly less interested in this gossip now that you've learned the source. 

Katie Kaspbrak would lie about what she had for breakfast if she thought it would make her seem more interesting. Actually, now that you think about it, she has done that.

"That's what I thought too," Kelsey continues, "until Belinda Carter and Donna Greene overheard her, and they said the same thing. Belinda said she was so shocked that she just faked it until he thought she came and then made an excuse to leave."

You pause. Katie Kaspbrak is one thing, but two other girls? That can’t all be a coincidence.

But… it's Steve Harrington. Every girl - and some of the boys - you've ever spoken to have the hots for him, whether they want to admit it or not, and how could he be so sought after if he gives such a piss-poor performance at something so fundamental? You pick at an errant lettuce leaf that juts out from the edge of your disheveled sandwich, pretending to find it fascinating so you don't have to look at Kelsey's elated expression anymore.

"Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?" you ask. Kelsey leans back in her seat and pops a french fry in her mouth, glancing at the dusty clock that hangs in the diner's lobby.

"Just wanted to give you something to look forward to before your date, Y/N," she says with barely contained glee. "I can't wait to hear all about it tomorrow." You shoot her a dirty look.

"Who says we're even gonna go that far tonight?" you counter, but you both know you're full of shit. You look down and pick at the skin around your fingernails to avoid Kelsey's knowing gaze because if you meet it, she'll see the uncertainty written all over your face. 

She loves messing with you like this; she's done it for almost every date you've ever gone on, regardless of who it's with. You pick up your sandwich and take a too-big bite to avoid having to talk anymore.

"Yeah, right. You've wanted to bang Steve since the moment you saw him, but you'll magically dry up the second you get the chance. Sounds legit."

 You stick out your tongue, letting Kelsey get a nice view of the smushed-up chunks of meat and bread hanging off it, but it doesn’t deter her snickering.

Her smug declaration is all you can think of for the rest of the day. It's so distracting that, while getting ready, you accidentally kiss the burning hot barrel of your curling iron to your temple and put your shoes on the wrong feet twice.

Who says that you have to go down that path tonight, anyway? Who says Steve is even the kind of dude to want to fuck on the first date?

Well...everyone who attended Hawkins High says, actually. Son of a bitch.

Perhaps you could just go down on him and insist he doesn't have to return the favor; it's not like most of the guys you've been with haven't leaped at the opportunity to skip the preamble and shove their dick in something anyway. The only problem with that is…you really wanna fuck Steve Harrington.

Really, really badly.

And you want it to be as good as it possibly can be. You've wanted this for years, and now that you've both graduated, who knows how long Steve plans to stick around in Hawkins so you can have your chance?

The time Steve promised he'd pick you up rolls around quicker than you'd anticipated. In the mirror, you smooth down your skirt one final time and fluff up your curls.

Kelsey doesn't know what she's talking about, you decide. Who were you to listen to gossip spread around by Katie Kaspbrak anyway? You practice smiling brightly in the mirror and notice a smear of lipstick across your front teeth. You lick at the stain and then rub it away with your index finger. It would be fine. 

Everything would be fine…right?

A car horn beeps twice before you can successfully reassure yourself.

He's here.

Oh, God.

You fly down the stairs two at a time, briefly worrying about how humiliating it would be to crack your head open before your date and snatch your purse off the kitchen table as you say goodbye to your mother. She reminds you of your curfew, and you give a vague acknowledgment as you pull the front door shut behind you.

In the faint evening light, Steve's maroon BMW is almost black, glimmering in the sour yellow streetlight like the shell of a beetle. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you croak a "Hi!" around it. Steve Harrington climbs out of his car gracefully, and his easy smile, accompanied by the bouquet of flowers he has clutched in his hand, is enough to make your knees wobble a bit.

"You look really pretty," he says, eyes flickering up and down your body. You're grateful for the dim outdoor lighting as your face flushes scarlet. "Thanks. Are those for me?" you ask, pointing at the bouquet. You wanna kick yourself as soon as you finish saying it. Of course, they're for you, you absolute buffoon. You’re on a date - who else would he be carrying flowers for?

Steve chuckles chuckles under his breath and extends them toward you. "You said these were your favorite, right? I saw 'em while I was getting stuff for tonight, so…Yeah." You gingerly take the flowers from him and bury your nose in the petals, inhaling their fresh scent as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, though his expression remains as casual as ever.

Is he…nervous?

He reaches in front of you as you walk up to the passenger side of the car and opens the door, bowing his head and gesturing for you to come inside exaggeratedly. You giggle and sink into the leather seats as he scurries around the car's hood. As he swings the door shut behind him and settles in behind the wheel, you silently draw a few steadying breaths.

The inside of his car smells distinctly of cologne and floral soap, so much so that you have to briefly wonder if he got his car detailed in anticipation of your date. His cologne is woody and sweet, not so strong that it stings behind your eyes, but you know the scent will stick to your clothes whether he lays a hand on you tonight or not. The thought makes your stomach flutter a little. As he revs the engine, you absently twirl the stem of a flower around your finger. 

"By the way," he says as he pulls out of your driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. "If you hear something clunking around back there while we drive, that's just Lucille."

You cock an eyebrow. "Lucille?"

You swear you see the ghost of a knowing smile creep across his lips, but an evening shadow cuts across his face before you're entirely sure. "Just a safety measure, that's all."

~~~

The date is more perfect than you could have ever imagined it to be. Steve takes you to a restaurant near the video store where he works, a little Italian place that's surprisingly upscale - at least, upscale for Hawkins. Your fingers don't get the opportunity to graze a door handle or the back of a chair the entire time, as he's always right behind you, reaching around your body to beat you to it.

His gaze never leaves your face when you talk, and he's so clearly hanging on every word you lose your train of thought a few times. It's jarring to have the guy you've been obsessed with for so long give you his undivided attention - in a good way, of course, but that doesn't stop the words from getting caught in your throat. 

He’s so pretty it's hard to maintain a coherent thought; all you want to do is stare at him and memorize the details of his face. The way his hair gently curves over his forehead, and he pushes a hand through the soft fringe to get it out of his eyes; the way his eyes sparkle in the warm, low light of the restaurant, transfixed on you like you're the single most intriguing thing he's ever laid them on.

You're not even halfway through offering to pay for half of the meal when he informs you he slipped his card to the host before you were even sat, and it's already taken care of. You insist he at least let you cover dessert - a small square of tiramisu you both nibble at - but he waves you off.

"You can pay for the next date," he says coolly, smiling behind a sip of his drink. You pull the cloth napkin from your lap and pretend to dab food from your mouth so you can hide your giddy smile and blushing cheeks. Next date, huh?

After dinner, he drives you to the outskirts of Hawkins, parking in a clearing in the forest that overlooks the blinking lights of the small city below. You have a perfect view of the moon as it gleams in the sky, full and white, and the stars glitter against the black velvet of the night without all the light pollution.

You sit on the hood of his car, legs crossed under you, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your skirt as it pools in your lap. You tug a too-big jacket tighter around your shoulders, a gift plucked from his trunk once he saw you shiver from the autumnal air against your skin. 

Steve is leaning back on his palms, head dropped between his shoulders as he stares at the sky. Goosebumps ripple across his skin, and every so often, his body twitches forward with a slight shiver, but he seems content enough in his short-sleeved shirt.

He catches you staring and chuckles when you avert your eyes and pretend to be fascinated by the paint on his car.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks.

"A cute guy," you respond, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat.

"That's so funny; I was just looking at a cute girl!" he exclaims, and you laugh. "Crazy how that works, huh?"

"Aren't you freezing?" you ask. Steve shrugs.

"I'm alright. It's refreshing. Keeps me awake," he murmurs.

A few minutes of silence pass comfortably. You listen to the sounds of the forest around you, only slightly concerned when you hear a twig snap in the distance or something rustle in the foliage beyond the car. But Steve's lack of interest in either puts you at ease. After a while, he points at a random spot in the sky and announces, "Found it!"

"Found what?"

"My friend Dustin - total nerd, by the way - was talking my ear off yesterday about constellations, like, how to find them and shit, and I found one!" He gestures for you to scoot closer without taking his eyes off his discovery, apparently not wanting to lose his spot. You do so, body hovering close enough to his that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and his cologne wafts pleasantly back up into your nose. You follow the direction his finger is pointing in, scanning the inky blackness of the sky.

"Do you see it?" he asks excitedly.

"Did your nerdy friend happen to tell you what this constellation was called?"

"Uh. Ursula…something…I think. He said it was "the littler one" of the two."

"Ursa minor?" you posit. Steve snaps his fingers and points at you affirmatively.

"There you go! Do you see it?"

You shake your head. The name is familiar, but you don't remember what it's supposed to look like. You mostly slept through your astronomy class in high school. 

Suddenly, an arm drapes itself around your shoulders and pulls you in, and warm fingers caress the sides of your jaw, tilting your face further upwards. Apparently, Steve has decided that the best way to help you see what he sees is by manually guiding you in the proper direction, so he's pressed your bodies together and is trying to angle your head in just the right spot.

Your stomach flips, and your heart jumps into your throat. This time, you're worried you'll choke on it. You're sure Steve can feel the blush in your cheeks burning beneath his fingertips, but he's either too engrossed in Ursa Minor to care or is choosing not to mention it.

"Right…there. See?" Steve says, voice notably lower than before and now right against the shell of your ear. A shiver walks its fingers down your spine.

“O-Oh, yeah,” you stammer. You do see it, a tail of shimmering dots curling into a small rectangle of stars, but you're more focused on Steve's mouth right out of the corner of your eye, his lips parted and quirked up into a smile. His hair brushes against your cheek as he turns his head toward you, and his index finger presses itself against the curve of your jaw to encourage you to look at him.

His eyes shine in the moonlight, dark and kind, as they flit over the details of your face, lingering the longest on your lips. He's warm and solid against you, and you tentatively place your fidgety hand on his knee.

He's so beautiful, you think to yourself. It isn't a word you've ever used for the other men you've dated, but it fits Steve well. A square jaw still soft at the edges with youth, wide brown eyes framed by lashes so thick and long that they fan across his cheekbones when he blinks, full pink lips barely parted and pursed like he has something to say. Beautiful.

Steve’s finger slides down the edge of your face until it reaches your chin, pinching it between bent thumb and forefinger. He leans in close enough that you can feel his breath wash over your lips.

You, on the other hand, forget how to breathe entirely.

He hesitates, and you feel a tug in your stomach as the thought of him pulling away from you occurs. Does your breath offend? You did eat a lot of garlic bread at the restaurant. Maybe you should've packed gum in your purse -

"Is this okay?" he murmurs. You blink, a little caught off guard by the question.

“Huh?” Very astute.

“This,” he says, and his thumb presses itself briefly in the center of your bottom lip as if to punctuate what he means. “I mean…can I kiss you?”

You swallow hard to avoid swooning at the question and clear your throat. "Yes. Yes, please kiss me."

He barely even has to move to capture your lips, so softly at first, like he’s afraid you’ll suddenly change your mind if he applies more pressure. Electricity thrums beneath your skin, zapping every nerve you have until your entire body is lit up with excitement. Your free hand trembles as you rest it against his chest. His heart thumps wildly beneath your palm, indicating that Steve Harrington is just as nervous as you are right now. This helps you to relax a bit, strangely.

Steve's arm slides down from your shoulders to wrap around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. He smiles against your mouth as a contented sigh escapes you and pulls away just enough to mumble, "Still okay?"

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt in your fingers and bring your lips back together, kissing him with more fervor. He hums against your mouth, satisfied with his answer, and his smile grows almost imperceptibly.

When he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you gasp, and his hand slips up to the nape of your neck and buries itself in your hair. He doesn't pull, just holds you firmly in place, and though the act is relatively small, its possessive nature makes you unconsciously sink into his touch. Your mind races with thoughts of what it would feel like if Steve did pull, just a little - how your neck would bend forward, how your eyes would be forced skyward, and how you'd have no choice but to arch toward him as he kept you where he wanted you.

He keeps you still as he pulls away, chuckling at the little mewl that falls out of your mouth at the lack of contact. He soothes you with kisses peppered down the expanse of your neck, pausing only to nip and lick at random spots of flesh. You moan breathily into his hair as he sucks on a patch of skin just above the neckline of your shirt, and your hand creeps even further up his thigh.

"If you give me a hickey…my mom will kill me," you breathe, and Steve snickers against your neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks. The thought is enough to make your stomach sink with dread. You shake your head ardently. He grazes his teeth against your throat, his satisfied grin tangible against your buzzing skin.

"I didn’t think so."

He makes his way back up to your lips after sucking another hickey into your flesh, this time thankfully below where your clothing can cover, and doesn't waste a second slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You swear you'll turn to liquid any second now and slip straight through Steve's fingers. Steve tastes faintly of tiramisu still, and you eagerly chase after the taste, your tongues sliding against each other. The hand in your hair glides down your spine and pauses above your ass. His fingers twitch hesitantly against the hem of his jacket, hiking it up only to smooth it back down several times. He waits for you to move to give him some indication that you want to go further.

So, you oblige him.

You pull away, a thin line of saliva connecting your lips. It's Steve's turn to whine at the empty space where your mouth used to be, and it's a sound that resonates right into the fingers still curled against his chest. It makes a feral heat stir in your belly, and you make a brief mental note to find what else elicits that noise from Steve Harrington's lips later.

You decide if there was any moment in your life to be bold - it's right now. You use the hand on his chest to nudge him up the hood of the car so his back is flush with the windshield, and before he can question what you're doing, you swing one leg over his lap and sit, straddling him.

He takes a surprised breath and smiles at you, the moonlight making his eyes shimmer like liquid bronze. You kiss him again, and he boldly reaches down and grabs two generous handfuls of your ass. With a groan, you roll your hips back into him, urging him to grab more, grab harder. 

Your hands grip either side of his slim waist and dip below the edge of his shirt. His skin is so warm compared to the chill of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to do anything to obtain more of his heat.

"Do you…wanna head inside the car?" he asks breathlessly, kissing the corners of your lips and down your jaw. "It's a lot more comfortable."

"I'm pretty comfortable right here," you say, and Steve laughs. He sits up straight and slots his hands under your knees, pulling you forward and down so you sit directly on his crotch. Despite the multiple layers of clothing between you both, you definitely feel something hard nudging at your inner thigh, and you let out a noise that's half surprise, half arousal.

"He's getting a bit restless if you catch my drift," Steve drawls, capturing your chin between his thumb and forefinger again. Your eyes flicker downward as if you’d be able to see with your legs and his jeans in the way. God, you want to see it, though, need to see it.

"'Course, if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to,” he says quietly, earnestly. “It’s up to you, Y/N.”

Your answer is to grind down on his dick hard enough that he pushes air out through his gritted teeth and grips your ass tighter. "Like I said," you purr against the shell of his ear, "I'm plenty comfortable."

Though Steve helps you back onto solid ground gingerly, there's a tautness to his muscles, a stiffness in how he moves that belies how desperate he is to get you into the car. He tries to adjust the front of his jeans casually, and you pretend to be staring into the treeline when he glances in your direction. You cock your head a bit in confusion when you notice him pull something long and thin out from below the backseat. It appears wooden, and the flared nub at the bottom is familiar enough that you realize it's probably a baseball bat. However, the top of the bat is oddly lumpy and seems to be covered in something spiky; you can't tell for sure what that could be because it's wrapped tightly in a tattered blue towel.  

He pops the trunk and throws it inside, acknowledging your puzzled expression after slamming it shut with a calm smile. "Lucille," he says simply. You decide you'll ask about it later. If you remember.

What you do remember, as soon as your back is nestled against the interior car door and Steve slots himself between your thighs, fingertips pushing the fabric of your skirt further up around your hips, is the conversation you had with Kesley.

"You know Steve Harrington can't eat pussy?"

You try to push the thought from your head by carding your fingers through Steve's hair, marveling at how soft it is while he plants kisses along your inner thighs. His lips brush across the intersection of your hip and thigh so gently that it makes you squirm a bit. Steve, despite your efforts, takes notice.

"Ticklish?"

"Uh. No?"

It's a lie. A bad one.

Steve smirks up at you and pushes your skirt past your pelvis, over your panties. Before you can stop him, his mouth is latched down over the sensitive juncture of your thigh, and you squeal in protest. Your breathless laughter and pleas for him to stop go unheeded, and he pins your writhing hips to the leather of the backseat so he can continue sucking a bright red hickey into your skin. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls off with a pop and strokes a finger over his handiwork. You bump his head with your knee, a halfhearted attempt to get him to stop prodding.

"Cute panties," he says lowly, and his finger follows the thick tendon that runs from your inner thigh to the edge of the cotton fabric. He drags the tip of it just underneath the seam of the gusset, pulling it far enough from your skin that it snaps back and makes you flinch. You remember agonizing over which pair to wear while you dressed - everything was too itchy, tight, plain, or extravagant for a first date. You only settled on the blush pink pair currently hugging your hips because they were the least offensive thing you could find.

You swallow hard, your hands fidgeting from their place atop your chest, and reflexively try to shut your legs. You're suddenly painfully aware of Steve staring at you, your most intimate part. A thin scrap of cloth is the only thing that separates your pussy from Steve Harrington's eyes, and while it's not like no one has ever seen you in states very similar to this, this time is…different. 

The butterflies in your stomach are hammering against your ribcage and fluttering into your lungs, threatening to cut off your air supply entirely. You're sure you're going to suffocate before he can make any further moves, and you're gonna pass out right in the back of Steve Harrington's car before he's even really done anything -

“Y/N?”

Steve's warm hand squeezing your hip pulls you from your thoughts. You pull the pooled fabric of your skirt up against your stomach so you can look at his face. His expression is hued with concern.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?" His thumb rubs in small, soft circles above the purpling hickey on your thigh.

"Yeah! I'm totally fine, I just…sorry, I kinda got lost in thought."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to, yanno, if you're feelin'...like, weird about any of this."

You shake your head and smile, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "I'm absolutely fine, Steve. I promise you. Did you say something before? I didn't hear you."

"I, uh…" He curls the tip of his finger beneath the gusset of your panties again, this time tugging experimentally. "Just wanted to know if I could take these off."

Your face is scorchingly hot, and if it weren't for the shadows cascading over the both of you, you’re sure Steve would laugh his ass off at the shade of red your cheeks have achieved. Any verbal response you might muster is lodged impossibly tight in your throat, so you just nod, let your legs fall further apart, and lift your hips off the seat so he can work your panties down your legs.

He does so with something akin to reverence, inching the fabric further and further off your body until his warm breath unfurls over your bare skin in deep, measured breaths. He carelessly tosses your panties somewhere in the front of his car, eyes transfixed on the spot between your legs. You're torn between wanting to yank your shirt collar over your eyes so you don't have to look at the deferent expression on his face, the damn near worshipful look in his dark eyes, and wanting to sit up to get an even better look at him.

"Wow… you're…fuck." Steve Harrington is at a loss for words because of you. You keep the glow of pride you feel at that fact to yourself…for now. You pull your legs back toward your chest, hooking one hand under your knee ditch to hold it steady and give him a better look. 

"Are you, uh…can I, like, eat you out?" he asks, and though part of you inwardly leaps for joy at the request, another part wants to suggest he do literally anything else.

You're being stupid, you chide yourself. Who gives a shit what Katie Kaspbrak or her stupid friends say? They're probably full of it anyway. Why are you entertaining the idea of telling Steve fucking Harrington he can't eat you out?

"Yes, please," you hear yourself breathe out despite your internal reservations. Steve smiles and raises a hand to replace the one keeping your leg pulled back. You take note of the way he licks his lips before he brings his mouth down against your pussy.

It's…well…it's interesting.

His tongue bypasses your clit completely and instead presses against your urethra, of all places. It isn't flat or relaxed; instead, a stiff pinpoint of muscle grinding uncomfortably into a spot that is decidedly not meant for that kind of stimuli. You shift, uneasy, but he seems to interpret it as a pleasured movement, which only spurs him on. He digs the tip of his tongue harder into your flesh, and you're grateful he can't see how your face is screwed up in distress.

Oh, God…oh, God. It really is awful. It's almost excruciating, and Katie Kaspbrak was fucking right. What do you do? What will he say if you tell him it's not good? Will he get embarrassed or hurt or even angry? Has anyone ever tried to tell him that this was wrong before?

You're conflicted and debating on just letting him finish up and possibly lying for the rest of time that Steve Harrington is a champion at eating pussy, until his tongue flicks upward and the unrelenting nub of his tongue stabs into your clit. You yelp involuntarily and yank your leg out of his hand, tightening your thighs. You press your fingers against your slit, hoping to soothe the throbbing ache Steve's harsh ministrations have brought on.

"What, what happened?" he asks, frantic, sitting up as much as he can in the confined space of the backseat.

He looks so much like a kicked puppy it's physically painful, maybe more painful than the burning sensation in your clit, and you consider for a moment just brushing it off as a leg cramp and letting him continue as if it's the best head in the world.

But you can't. You won't. If Steve doesn't know what he's doing wrong, he can't fix it, right? You just hope he's genuinely ignorant of how unrefined his skills are and not just overconfident and uncaring. The apologetic expression he's wearing is encouraging that it's the former.

"I…that hurt," you hiss between your teeth. "That hurt a lot."

"I'm so sorry," he says, reaching towards you instinctively, but then he seems to reconsider and takes his hands back. They rest atop his knees, clenching and unclenching, just like when he picked you up. "I…I thought that's what girls liked. I haven't…no one's told me any different, and I don't, like, have a bunch of practice - I mean, I've had practice, but no one's ever said anything before. I had no idea I was hurting you. I don't…I don't have to do that if you don't want it. I can do something else. I mean, Nance never really liked it when I did that either, so-"

He stops, eyes widening once it dawns on him what just came out of his mouth. Admittedly, you're a little shocked yourself. You attempt to keep your expression neutral to not make him feel worse, but you clearly fail because Steve cringes away when he catches a glimpse of your face.

"Shit…sorry. I shouldn't… it's not cool to bring up your ex on a first date. I know that. I'm sorry…Look, if you wanna go home, I get it. I kinda messed shit up, so I can-"

He's so fixated on his contrite ramblings that he doesn't notice when you sit up, nor when your hands cup either side of his face, and he only stops talking once you've pressed your lips against his, making it physically impossible. You feel the tension melt out of his body, and he tentatively grips your elbows.

"I'm fine," you start, leaning your forehead against his. His breaths escape in panicked, warm bursts against your lips. "I don't need to go home. I'm absolutely perfect here, with you. You didn't stab me with a burning hot poker or anything, so I'm doing pretty alright." The corners of his lips twitch upward in a sad suggestion of a smile. You should know better; you shouldn't ask about Nancy Wheeler even if Steve accidentally brought her up first, but you can't help the question that ripples from your lips.

"What do you mean, 'Nance never liked it?'" you ask carefully, and his muscles flex beneath your fingers. You're treading on thin ice. You rub your thumbs over his cheekbones, attempting to put him at ease and have his eyes meet yours.

"It's… it's stupid," Steve mutters, eyes downcast at his lap. "She…Nancy really, super hated it when I went down on her. I never thought about it too hard, I guess. I chalked it up to her being kinda uptight and just moved on, but now it makes way more sense. I suck. Of course, she hated it." He offers a dry, humorless sound you suppose is his attempt at a laugh.

"Did she ever, like…tell you what you were doing wrong?" you ask softly.

"Yeah…well, no, not exactly. I don't know. She'd usually just sit up and tell me she wanted to do something else, and when I asked what was up, she would just dance around the question, and we'd do something else and…I stopped trying after that. I should've asked questions."

"Well, you can ask them now. If you'd like."

Steve finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, and his eyes are markedly brighter than before. "If it's not too astoundingly lame…yeah, that'd be great. What exactly hurt about it? Was I too rough?"

"Partially that, and partially how rigid your tongue was," you giggle. "It feels much better if you loosen up. Think more like licking a lollipop than Vlad the Impaler."

Steve laughs sincerely at that one, and his head tilts forward to rest on your shoulder. "Vlad the Impaler, huh? That's pretty bad."

"It is, but it's nothing you can't improve on. I'll even let you practice if you want." Steve sits straight, his once crestfallen expression replaced with wide, hopeful eyes and a hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"Seriously?"

"Mm-hm. I'll guide you through it, like, uh...like a pussy-eating professor."

 Steve snorts and kisses you briefly. His hands move to your hips in twitchy anticipation, unsure whether or not he should settle on your bare flesh or the hem of your skirt. It's almost like he suddenly doesn't know where to start. You decide for him; you lay your hands over his and guide them toward your body, bringing them up beneath your skirt and settling them on the bare skin of your hips.

"Give me a reason to tangle my fingers in that famous hair, pretty boy."

Without warning, you're pulled forward hard enough to fall unceremoniously onto your back, nearly thumping your head against the door handle. Steve almost concusses you in his excitement, but you can't bring yourself to care once you feel his breath washing over your exposed slit in warm, quick puffs. You sigh contentedly and thread your fingers through the hair at his temples.

"Loosen up, right?" he hums, and you make an affirmative noise high in your throat when you remember he can't see you nod.

"Start at the bottom," you say quickly, "and work your way up. Don't go straight for the clit, just-"

The sensation of Steve's hot, wet tongue licking a flat stripe up your cunt, slowly and carefully, makes your brain short-circuit. The instructions fizzle and die on your tongue, and you forget why you were speaking for a moment.

"Like that?"

"Huh? Yeah…yeah, like that. You don't have to just lick, either. You can like, um…suck on certain areas, like the lips and the - fucking shit -"

Steve is, apparently, a fast and very ambitious learner - before you can finish a complete sentence, he's applying your advice fucking beautifully. He licks another long, languid stripe up your pussy and sucks gently on your labia, tugging lightly with closed lips. Shifting his face upward, his nose grazes your clit, eliciting an unexpected moan. One hand flies above your head, fumbling for the handle on the car's roof for purchase, and you keep the other firmly planted in his hair.

"Still good?" His voice has an edge, much cockier now than it was just a few moments ago. He's so entertained by your reactions, and you don't know if it makes you mad, turns you on, or both. You decide that's not important because his mouth isn't on you anymore, and you can't stand for that.

"Fucking fantastic."

"Any more lessons to teach me?" he asks smugly. His hands are splayed across your inner thighs, spreading you open just slightly, and his thumbs are massaging your outer lips as he talks. His tone ignites something defiant within you. You push yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him evenly, meeting his eyes. His rediscovered confidence is undoubtedly hot, so hot you can feel your arousal starting to leak onto the upholstery beneath your ass, but it's in your nature to want to challenge him a little bit.

"Here's one," you rasp. You fist a hand into Steve's hair, gripping it tightly by the roots, and shove his face deeper into your cunt. You toss both legs over his shoulders and lock them at the ankles.

"Give that mouth something useful to do other than fuckin' talk."

You swear to everything holy, you hear Steve Harrington growl.

He dives into your pussy with renewed fervor, fingers still keeping you opened up for him, and laps at the rivulet of slick drooling out of your hole. Once the taste hits his tongue, he moans into you and pushes his face so deep you can feel the light stubble on his cheeks grazing your sensitive folds. 

Your back arches, lifting you almost entirely off the seats, and you bite your lip to stifle the noises threatening to burst from your throat. It's not to spare whatever stranger may or may not be lurking in the bordering forest but because your moans sound downright embarrassing. His tongue burns a wet trail from your weeping hole to your clit, where it laps experimentally at the swollen bud.

You twist and shudder beneath him, your body operating without input from your brain, but the feeling of Steve's hands slamming your hips down into the seats snaps you back to attention. You lift your head from its position against the car door, struggling to focus your eyes. Steve has laid himself as flat as he can across what little space remains in the backseat. His arms coil tight around your thighs, which keep both legs hanging limply over his shoulders. He stares up at you through his thick lashes, eyes gleaming hungrily, while he licks and sucks your pussy like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. His ordinarily perfect hair is trashed, sticking to his damp forehead in dark clumps.

You gnaw on your bottom lip stubbornly, clinging to what little rebellion still smolders inside you. Steve laughs; the vibrations feel like heaven against you, and you fling your head back down.

It isn't until his mouth has formed a near-vacuum seal around your clit that you unabashedly squeal into the humid air, unable to contain yourself anymore, pleasure wracking your body in unrelenting waves. Steve doesn't let up, swirling his tongue while he sucks, somehow keeping you glued to the seats without much apparent effort. You knew he was strong; he was an athlete the entire time you were in high school, but you didn't imagine his slender frame belied this much strength. The ease with which he's made you almost immobile is unexpected and very, very sexy.

"S-Steve, Steve - fuck - okay, God, you're getting me close already," you wheeze, voice straining high and desperate in your throat. You don't usually get close this fast unless you're alone and rubbing out a quick orgasm before bed or out of boredom. Still, the combination of his greedy suckling and licking, the sheer amount of enthusiasm he's displaying toward pleasuring you, and the fact that this long-held fantasy is coming to life right before you are making you hurtle toward the edge.

You inhale sharply, your body tenses, you're so, so close, you're about to cum -

Steve pulls off you, his lips making a wet, obscene pop before they curl into a fiendish grin. You whine, and he chuckles at you, rubbing your thigh apologetically. "You taste so fucking good," he says breathlessly.

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper. "And…thank you?"

"I'm having too much fun and didn't want you to cum yet," he says simply. "Plus, I wanted to ask something."

"Go for it."

You can't see them, but you can feel Steve's fingers on your pussy; his thumb makes a few small, tight circles around your clit before two more digits glide down the length of your folds and stop right at the entrance of your hole. They nudge around the rim as he speaks.

"Do you like getting fingered at the same time?" he asks, hopeful. "I know I'm at least good at that."

"Yes, please, do that," you beg, hardly letting him finish the sentence. You pause as the last part of Steve's sentence registers in your lust-addled brain. I know I'm at least good at that.

The corners of your mouth tug downward into a frown. Just as Steve ducks his head down again, you cup the sides of his jaw in both hands. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes flash nervously in the darkness doesn't escape you.

"By the way," you murmur, rubbing your thumbs into the stubbly flesh of his cheeks. "You've proven to be very…very good at…yanno, all this. Not just fingering."

"Yeah?" The hope in his voice is so genuine and sweet you could cry.

"Yeah. You just needed a little guidance, that's all."

He turns his head and kisses your palm, tracing circles into the back of your hand with his own before pulling it away and lacing your fingers together. Your interlocked hands rest next to your bare hip, and he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. "Want me to get back to the, uh…fun part?"

You giggle. "I'm having a ton of fun, personally, but if you mean the eating my pussy part…yes, please."

"Gotcha."

Steve wastes no time reclaiming your swollen clit in his mouth, but he's decidedly gentler as he trails his two middle fingers around the rim of your hole. You can't tell if he's teasing you or testing the waters as he dips the tips inside you a few times, never edging past the first knuckles before pulling them back out again.

If he keeps this up, you’re going to go batshit insane. You're milliseconds away from telling him so before he swipes his fingers through the slick puddling beneath your pussy, and plunges them inside you up to the last knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," you moan, writhing as much as possible while trapped between Steve's body and the car. His fingers curl, brushing against a spot that makes sparks fly behind your closed eyes, and he rubs against it purposefully once your voice pitches up and your breathing quickens even more. Both hands tangle in his disheveled hair, and you're torn on whether to push him away with how overwhelming the pleasure is becoming or pull him closer so he never stops. You settle on knotting your fingers at the roots and holding on for dear life.

Steve's fingers make lewd wet sounds as they pump in and out of your hole, and his free hand rests on the soft mound of skin above your clit. He pulls back just slightly, a stringy line of saliva connecting his tongue to your body, and his index finger stretches your skin up enough that the hood of your clit shifts backward. He chuckles.

"You should see how much of a mess your pussy is," he says. His tongue darts out to lick the slick shining on his lips. "It's so cute."

"Cute?" You don't know if that would've been the word you'd have picked to describe yourself right now, nor had anyone ever done so before. Despite the flush rising high on your cheekbones, you pretend to be more offended by it than you really are.

"Adorable," Steve coos, a smug smile sprawling across his handsome face. "And the noises you're making are even cuter. Have you been saving those just for me?"

You're speechless. You can't deny it, but you sure as hell aren't going to confirm it for him, either. His head will get so big you worry it'll fill the car's cab until you're both suffocated by the sheer mass of it. You sit up as much as you can against the car door, tugging the hand still woven with yours and smiling audaciously at him. You cross pinched fingers in front of your lips in a zipping motion, twisting them at the corner and flicking your wrist over your shoulder. My lips are sealed.

Steve scoffs. "Oh? We'll see how long that lasts, pretty girl."

Steve thrusts his fingers deep inside you again, fluttering them against your g-spot, then spits on your exposed clit. He dips his head and licks up the saliva trickling down your slit in one slow, hot strip, eyes never leaving your face.

You press your lips together tight, screwing your eyes shut and exhaling hard through your nose. Your legs are trembling, you're gripping his hand so tightly you're surprised he isn't complaining of bruised bones yet, and your chest is heaving with the effort of staying silent, but you're winning.

Or, at least, you think you're winning.

That is until he stuffs his fingers so deep inside you that it causes his hand to curl upward, almost cupping your cunt in his palm and grinding the heel of his hand into your tender clit. You can't help but gasp as he outright abuses your g-spot, rubbing circles against it with such pressure that even if you wanted to make noise, you can’t - the pleasure radiating from your core has snatched your voice away. You can't even draw in a satisfying breath and only manage a few sparse, shallow gasps.

"You done acting like you're not gonna give me what I want?" Steve asks, voice dripping with sweet condescension. You sob. It takes a stammering, whimpering, tear-filled moment before you gather enough oxygen to reply.

"U-Uh-huh, I'm - shit - I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, Steve…."

"Atta girl." Though his fingers don't relent in the brutal pace they've set, he does bend his hand down enough so he can lap at your clit again. Tears eke out of the corners of your eyes and drip slowly into your hairline, and when you find your voice again, it bursts out of you in a broken scream.

It takes thirty seconds of consistent attention before he's got you close again, and you warn him of that fact by whining and tugging on his hair.

"You gonna cum for me?" he huffs, breath washing over your sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes, fuck - oh fuck me, Steve -!"

"Soon, baby," he hums.

Your orgasm crashes into you full force, and your throat burns with the force of your wailing as you arch off the backseat; you guarantee you're pulling some of Steve's hair out with how tight your grip is, but he is decidedly unfazed. He milks this moment for all its worth, never stopping or slowing in his ministrations.

Tears flow down your cheeks freely, soaking into the neck of your shirt and wetting the hair you'd spent so much time on. The pleasure crescendos into something too intense to handle quickly. You choke out a few half-assed pleas, your brain melting out of your ears at this point, far beyond being capable of intelligible sentences, and Steve ignores you.

Clearly, you don't decide when Steve Harrington is done - he does.

Your orgasm seems to go on for days, months even, and just as the pain begins to nip at the edges of your earth-shattering pleasure, as you almost snap your legs shut and beg Steve to please just give you a small break, you feel it. 

Your second orgasm. Building, apparently in secret, riding the tails of your first one and sneaking up on you to the point you don't notice you're going to cum until your cunt spasms around Steve's fingers again.

"C-C-Cumming, cumming again, fuck, oh God, fuck, I can't - Steve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Steve assures, fingers working impossibly faster. You're astonished he doesn't have the mother of all hand cramps right now. Perhaps he does, and he just doesn't care. You don't think you care, either. "You can cum for me again, Y/N. Come on. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl."

This time, you don't even have the strength to scream. You weep and sag against the car door, body tremoring and barely managing a few pathetic pleas between hiccuping breaths.

You're drenched in sweat, and you're sure your makeup is fucked because of it. That and the tears, of course. You must look utterly trashed, but when Steve finally pulls off your poor, sore pussy with a pop, he looks at you like you're the single most beautiful creature on the planet.

He goes to wipe his lips with the back of one hand, and you notice slick shimmering down his chin and even splattered onto his neck. It's only then you feel the absolute lake of cum that’s accumulated beneath your ass, and your entire body burns bright red with embarrassment. He raises himself up on his palms, his arms boxing you in tightly.

"You are so gorgeous," he says, cupping your cheek in the hand that isn't glistening with your cum. You laugh shakily and lean into his touch.

"Sorry… 'bout your seats," you offer weakly, and he shakes his head. "You can ruin my upholstery anytime."

Steve leans down, dark eyes scanning your face, and smiles. It's a sweet, lopsided expression, nowhere near the self-satisfied, almost sadistic grin from earlier. They both quicken your pulse, but this one assures you you can at least take this moment to recover from possibly the best orgasm of your life.

First and second-best orgasms. Wow.

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He slots his leg between yours, narrowly avoiding the puddle you've made, and cradles your head as if he's the only thing keeping it from flopping sideways. Frankly, he is. When he pulls away, he kisses your forehead before leaning his own against it.

"You okay?" he asks. You nod, sighing and swallowing despite your parched mouth. Your hands rest atop your chest, curled up into each other meekly as you try to regain any semblance of strength in your extremities. You bump your lips into him again briefly.

"You're a remarkably fast learner, Steve Harrington," you mumble, voice hoarse. He chuckles. 

"It's easy when I have such an incredible teacher.”

It takes a few minutes to clean you - and the car - up. Steve digs around in his glove box for some old fast food napkins and gingerly sops as much of your cum out of his seats as he can while you lay on your side, curled up and heavy-lidded as the adrenaline slowly dribbles out of your system. He dabs the sweat from your brow, following the rough, cheap napkin with gentle kisses to soothe your flushed skin. Afterward, he bunches the napkins and shoves them in his passenger side door before rejoining you in the backseat. 

He hoists you up onto his lap and guides your head onto his shoulder, allowing you to nuzzle your face into his neck and inhale his scent as he rubs your back.

"Any more pointers?" he asks just before you've dozed off. You smile and shake your head.

"None whatsoever. You've exceeded my greatest expectations, dear pupil." He laughs and thumps your back appreciatively. It's not until you're readjusting slightly to get more comfortable that you realize something - Steve is still hard. Achingly so, it would seem, as you can feel the rigid denim stretched over his bulge so tightly you're surprised the zipper hasn't popped clean off. Heat stirs in your belly, and you make a soft, serene noise in your throat as you grind your bare pussy into his lap.

His hips stutter upward just enough for you to bounce slightly, and you giggle into the crook of his neck. "We still haven't taken care of you yet." "We don't have to if you're too tired," he assures you, voice little more than a deep hum against the shell of your ear. "I'm happy just makin' you feel good."

You consider it. You know you'll be sore tomorrow, regardless of if you choose to have more of Steve Harrington stuffed inside you, and your clit is throbbing and achy to the touch. You could fall asleep on his chest right now; he could keep you in this beautiful, dreamlike space for the rest of time if he wanted to. But there's a part of you, a part much, much louder than the part complaining about your sore slit or exhausted body, that is dying to know what Steve's dick looks like.

You leave a trail of kisses up from the hollow of his neck to the curve of his jaw and blink at him happily. Once your faces are close enough that his eyelashes are nearly tickling your cheekbones, you snake one hand between your bodies and trail a finger over the cold metal teeth of his zipper.

"Just 'cause my cunt is sore doesn't mean I'm totally out of commission," you purr. "And since you did so well with your mouth on me… don't you think it's fair I return the favor?"

You feel, rather than hear, the low moan that rumbles through Steve’s chest at the insinuation. You hook your nail through the eye of his zipper and give an experimental tug.

"Can I suck your cock, Steve?"

His lips are on yours almost before the question rolls off your tongue. His fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you still as his tongue explores inside your mouth. Steve's natural taste mixes with the taste of your slick in an intoxicating way, but just before your head starts spinning, he breaks the kiss enough to breathe, "You're gonna have to move, baby."

Of all the lewd, downright filthy things Steve Harrington has done and said tonight, the way he slurs the word "baby" against your swollen lips is the thing that makes you blush the hottest.

He reaches behind you and opens the car door, and you both shiver slightly as the cold air rushes in from the forest and cools your sweat-soaked skin. He pats your thigh and juts his chin forward, so you awkwardly clamber out of the BMW despite your wobbling legs. You lean one hand on the car's roof while Steve scoots to sit on the edge of the backseat and swings his legs onto the ground.

He brushes past you as he emerges from the car, planting a quick kiss on the top of your head before he pops the trunk and struggles with something inside for a moment. With a victorious smile, Steve waves the same raggedy blue towel that had been wrapped around "Lucille" before assuming his spot in the backseat again. He folds it in half once and lays it out between his spread legs atop the mud and sparse grass you're standing on.

"So you don't get your legs all dirty," he explains, observing your mildly confused expression.

"My legs?"

"It'd be killer on your back, sucking my dick while you're bent at the waist, wouldn't it?" Steve laughs, undoing his belt with deft fingers while he watches the realization dawn on you. "The least I can do is make you more comfortable and keep the mud and crap off your legs, right?"

“Yeah…totally…”

Words escape you as you watch the metal of Steve's belt buckle glitter in the moonlight while he slips the leather out of the loop. His shirt is riding up just far enough onto his stomach that you can see a dark thatch of hair leading upward from the hem of his jeans, and at that moment, you are determined to follow Steve's happy trail with your tongue at some point. As he pops the button on his pants, you release your grip on the car and collapse to your knees. You grab his hands and pull them out of the way, splaying your fingers across his thighs and squeezing.

"Let me," you say, eyes darting between his mostly undone jeans and his face. He chuckles at you, and you try to commit his crooked, sweet smile and warm brown eyes to memory. He's beyond handsome, drop-dead fucking gorgeous - and he's letting you suck his cock. You take a moment to thank whatever deity or greater cosmic force that's brought you to this exact moment in your life.

"Be my guest," Steve says, leaning back on his palms and staring down the bridge of his nose at you. You lean forward, using the grip on his legs to keep balance and capture the end of his zipper between your teeth. You drag it down agonizingly slowly while keeping complete eye contact with him. You can't look away from his amazed and steadfastly aroused face. Pants fully unzipped, you think you can make out that Steve is wearing dark red boxer briefs.

Very normal, all things considered, but you know in the back of your head that this particular shade of red will always make you horny now - Pavlov's dogs had their bell, and you drool at the sight of Steve Harrington's underwear.

Steve lifts his ass off the backseat just enough for you to tug his pants and boxers down to his knees. You could pull his cock out through his underwear, but no, you want to see all of him, every last inch. Fair is fair, right? 

Steve is…fuck, he's big. Bigger than you ever even fantasized about. 

His cock springs upright fully after you've freed it from his boxers, and with a hard swallow and a fluttery feeling in your gut, you realize it's big enough to touch his navel. It curves toward his belly, an angle so perfect it's impossible not to imagine how it'll feel inside you once you can handle it. The head is flushed a dark red and slick with precum, and you watch in reverence as a milky bead forms at the slit. It's all you can do to not surge forward immediately and lick it off. The hair covering the base of Steve's dick and balls is dark, nearly black, and unexpectedly curly compared to the other hair on his body.

You reach a tentative hand out and wrap it around his shaft. He's so thick your fingers barely touch once you've made a fist. Steve hisses at the feeling and drops his head back a little.

"You're…so fucking big," you say breathlessly. Steve laughs and cards a hand through your hair, brushing sweaty strands away from your forehead. 

"You think you're gonna be able to handle it?" His voice drips with fake sympathy, so you nod your head despite being unsure. The head is so big you worry you won't be able to fit it in your mouth without your back teeth accidentally scraping it, let alone have it go down your throat. But the cocky, smug look he wears makes you want to suck his dick until he cries, just like you did. 

You nudge his shirt further up his torso, noting how solid his abdominal muscles feel beneath your palm, and dip your head down to his happy trail. You lay soft kisses amongst the thick, coarse hair, and Steve subtly squirms.

"Ticklish?" you ask. He narrows his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

You chuckle, sorely tempted.

You copy his actions from earlier and lick a long, hot stripe with your flattened tongue up the entire length of his cock, stopping only to swirl around the head and lap up his precum. The salty taste blooms across your tongue and your mouth embarrassingly floods with drool as you suck and lick more of the flavor into it. You inch carefully down his shaft, opening your jaw as wide as possible to avoid an encounter between his dick and your molars and twirl your tongue around the length in your mouth to make up for what you can't wholly swallow yet. One hand wraps around the base to make up the difference, stroking up and down slowly as you bob your head.

It's an interesting, intricate dance, trying to fit Steve Harrington's monster cock in your mouth without outright biting it. You persuade your gag reflex to let him go down your throat a bit more, your quick strokes getting slicker and slicker with the drool that pours freely down Steve's dick and wets his pubic hair. Breathing through your nose proves difficult when his massive cockhead obstructs the back of your throat entirely, but you manage well enough.

Steve is absolutely beside himself. He's moaning unabashedly, and it's like music to your ears. He's the first man you've ever been with who makes noises outside of oddly paced-out grunts or a random curse word here or there, and it's having more of an effect on you than you ever could have imagined. You press your thighs together as more slickness drips from your throbbing cunt, free to gush almost to your knees without the interference of your panties. 

"Fuck, baby, fucking shit…fuck yeah, just like that… you're sucking my cock so good, you look so fucking hot right now, oh my God," Steve babbles, eyes fluttering and head lolled over to one side. He bucks his hips, probably involuntarily, and his cock bumps the back of your throat just hard enough that it makes you gag.

You cough and pull off him far enough to take a breath, your hand still firmly locked around his base and wet with spit. He laughs breathily and caresses your cheek as you pant.

“Sorry…sorry…I didn't mean to choke you. You're just… you're so good…."

"You can, uh…like, do that again if you want," you say shyly. Steve cocks an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"That. What you just did. Again."

"You want me to gag you like that again?" It's said with genuine surprise, not judgment, and you smile sheepishly at him.

"Kinda, yeah…only if you're okay with it too, I just…I can handle it…."

He considers it, absently twirling a few strands of your hair around his fingers as he mulls your request over. Then, both hands slide to the back of your head and gather your hair into one large, tight handful that makes you sit up straighter. Cold air gusts against your freshly exposed skin, and you shiver as Steve leans forward and kisses your forehead. He uses his other hand to pull his jacket tighter around your body, tucking the collar against your throat.

"If you can handle it," he says, and with one smooth push, he's shoved you back down on his cock. The head bumps the back of your throat hard, and though your entire body jerks forward as you gag, Steve doesn't relent. He seems as determined as you were to fit the daunting length of his dick down your throat, and the fact you practically begged him to facefuck you appears to have dissolved any lingering inhibitions he may have had. He keeps one hand securely fisted in your hair, and the other moves to feel where his length is bulging through your throat. He hums lowly and strokes his fingers over your taut flesh.

"You can take more than that, can't you?"

You haven't even begun to respond before he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his way past your uvula, and you can only gag and shudder as your nose gets buried in the thick curls at the base of his cock. He guides you back by your hair only far enough that his head isn't bullying into your airway anymore, then pushes you back down - he does this over and over, hardly letting you have a moment to breathe while he chases his pleasure. You moan as you realize you've essentially become a means to an end, a method of reaching an orgasm, a warm, wet hole for Steve to fuck his cock into, and your fingers sneak down between your thighs to rub your aching clit.

Though you try to be discreet, you're soaked, and you can't do a thing to hide the obscene squelching sounds your pussy makes as you grind into your hand. Steve, with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and drunk on lust, laughs.

"You're so fuckin' cute. You like bein' my cocksleeve that much, pretty girl?" You attempt a nod and a noise that leans toward acquiescence, and it's good enough.

Steve sets a rigorous pace, bringing you down far enough to kiss his pelvis every time, moaning a little louder when the muscles of your throat contract around his thick shaft as you gag. You are, admittedly, worried you'll puke at some point, and the thought of having arguably the best sexual experience of your life ruined by you blowing chunks all over Steve Harrington's penis does, unfortunately, cross your mind. But before you can dwell too long on it - and before the building nausea becomes too much for you to handle - Steve pulls you off his cock.

Your lips pop wetly as they leave his shaft, and you gasp shakily, the sudden influx of oxygen almost dizzying. Drool drips freely from your aching jaw and the thick strand of saliva that connects your mouth to the head of his dick glints in the moonlight overhead. Your fingers never stop working your clit, though your orgasm ebbs away after your throat ceases to be utterly abused.

"Why'd you stop?" you rasp.

"Was gonna cum too soon," he chuckles. You whine and surge forward, but you're stopped by the firm hand still ensnared in your hair. You crave the taste of Steve's cum on your tongue so intensely, and the fact he isn't letting you have it right away fills you with tantrum-level frustration.

"What, you want it?"

"Yes, Jesus Christ, please."

"Aww. You can beg much better than that." His fingers curl, tugging your hair at the root and jostling you back and forth a little.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he starts dragging you further away from his shining, dark-red cock. Drool and precum ooze from the tip and you can see it twitching every few seconds, and though your throat feels raw and sore, your jaw aches, and your legs are alight with pins and needles, you need it back in your mouth. You could kneel here all night, and you would swear you were in heaven. The brazen fire in your belly has been snuffed, replaced with the most thrilling need you've ever experienced, so you can't think of anything snarky to say in response. Instead, you do as Steve says, and you fucking beg.

"Please, please give it back, Steve."

"Give what back, baby?" he purrs.

"Your cock."

"What about my cock?"

"Please give me back your cock, Steve. Pretty please, I need it."

He clicks his tongue at you, giving your head a little shake again while your eyes are helplessly fixed on his glistening shaft. "Hmm, I still don't believe you."

A broken sob falls from your mouth before you can help it, and you paw helplessly at his thighs. "Please, please, please, fuck my face, Steve, please. I need it so badly. Please give it to me. I'll do anything, just please...."

He smiles and coos at you, bending down slightly to kiss your forehead softly. "You sound so pretty and pathetic for me, baby," he hums.

Your mouth is full again in a flash, and this time, it's evident that Steve has surpassed any pretense of being gentle with you. That clumsy, nervous boy from earlier has melted away, leaving this commanding, exceedingly bold, and surprisingly dominant man in his wake. His voice has lowered to just above a growl, rough with lust. The way he's reclining back and fucking your mouth like he's pumping into his fist, the way he teases and mocks you and eggs you on - it's fucking intoxicating. You can't get enough. You want him to go further; you want more, more, more.

"Fuck, fuck, 'm cumming, I'm fucking cumming, fuck Y/N," Steve gasps, placing both hands on the sides of your head and driving his cock down your battered throat. The heat of your impending orgasm begins to pool between your hips, and you rub your clit furiously as you gaze up at Steve, trails of mascara-riddled tears tracked down your spit-wet cheeks.

The exact moment his cock pulses and the first hot, thick rope of cum shoots down your throat, you push yourself over the edge of your third orgasm of the night.

You moan as much as you can around his dick, body spasming uncontrollably, and the vibrations from your noises make him grip the seats beneath him so hard you think he’ll shred the upholstery. You try to swallow as best you can, and Steve does mercifully pull out just enough that the head of his cock rests against the middle of your tongue, allowing you room to breathe. His cum is salty and heady, and you're immediately addicted to it, and you hollow your cheeks to greedily suck more of it into your mouth. He looks at you with worshipful adoration, like you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Your hand drops from your overstimulated clit as your orgasm abates, and you use it to hold onto Steve's thigh for balance. You distantly feel embarrassed about smearing slick on his jeans.

When Steve pulls his spent cock from your mouth and releases your bunched-up hair, you fall forward unceremoniously into his lap. You pant raggedly into the fabric clustered around his upper legs, trembling like you've been tossed in the snow. He praises you under his breath, almost like he's not entirely cognizant of what he's saying.

"You did such a good job, God, that was amazing…you did so well, baby…fuck…."

You smile dreamily, glowing under his praise. He pets your hair absentmindedly, and after a while, he gingerly guides you back so you're sitting on your haunches, the rough terrycloth of the towel digging into your knees. He looks beautiful in the bluish light of the evening, hair mussed and sticking out at odd angles, cheeks still dusted a light pink, lips swollen and red and wet with his spit. Steve cradles your face in his hands and rubs at the greyish tear tracks streaking your cheeks, almost embarrassed of their presence.

"Are you okay?"

You nod sluggishly, nuzzling your cheek into Steve's surprisingly rough palm. He smooths the frazzled hair he'd been tugging on so enthusiastically back away from your damp forehead, fluffing it apologetically once he realizes the style you'd sought to achieve is thoroughly ruined. You're sure you look destroyed, to be fair - most of your lipstick is smeared messily on the lower half of Steve's softening cock, so you imagine the rest of it is smudged down your chin and across your cheeks. When you wipe the back of your hand beneath your jaw to catch a few stray tears, your skin is stained blackish from the mascara-laden liquid. Definitely not Harrington-proof, you note amusedly.

"Lemme help you up," Steve says, scooting forward off the backseat and bending toward you. One arm snakes around your waist and tightens against the small of your back; the other hand knits itself against your right hand, and when Steve pulls you to your feet, you're pressed flush against his chest, bodies entwined like partners gliding across a dance floor. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, you still giggle nervously at the lack of distance between your face and Steve's. He smiles sweetly, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

The hand clasped in Steve's twitches toward your lips reflexively. Your mouth still tastes like his cum, and while you certainly don't mind, you aren't sure if he will. He notices your hesitance, and after a moment, the reason seems to click for him. His smile grows imperceptibly.

Steve takes your face in both hands and kisses you deeply, licking your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours. Your already weakened knees wobble, threatening to let you drop like a ton of bricks right back to the rumpled towel beneath your feet. The tangy taste of your cunt still lingers on his tongue and mixes with the salty flavor coating your mouth; it's addictive, and for a moment, it tricks you into thinking you could go just one more round. The way your clit throbs painfully at the mere insinuation, however, quickly dispels that idea.

Steve presses a final, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose after he pulls away from your lips, and the way his eyes sparkle at you in the moonlight dashed across his face makes your stomach flip excitedly, a sensation you're almost embarrassed to feel. It seems too innocent, too chaste after everything you've done tonight, but your cheeks flush hotly regardless.

"You…are something else," Steve says quietly, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"You're one to talk."

You turn your head toward his palm, kissing his warm skin. The yellow-green light of his watch glows out of the corner of your eye, and when he twists his wrist a bit to the side, you catch a glimpse of the numbers.

No. No, that can't be right.

Steve makes a discordant sound as you yank his arm back toward your face, pushing his sleeve up to his elbow. You must've read the time wrong; it can't be that late.

But there it is, clear as day, in blocky electric numbers. Your curfew, which you've never broken, passed almost half an hour ago.

Your heart plummets down through your stomach, and you swear you hear it plop into the dirt at your feet.

"I'm so dead," you murmur, and Steve cocks his head quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm dead!"

You scramble toward the rearview mirror and tug it upward. You look absolutely wrecked. How will you explain why ninety percent of your makeup is gone? Why your hair looks like you've just gone through a tornado? Steve huffs out a confused laugh.

"Am I…missing something?" he asks, leaning casually against the side of the car. You tug the collar of your shirt up and scrub at your mouth - it makes your lipstick look worse and stains the inside of one of your favorite tops. Shit. You frenziedly try to work the buttons on Steve’s jacket closed, desperately tugging the collar up in an attempt to conceal the rapidly deepening red blotches he’s sucked into your skin. They’ll bruise by tomorrow, and if you weren’t in a blind panic, the thought would turn you on. Admittedly, it still does.

"I'm so, so late. My mom is gonna kill me," you say frantically. Maybe it'll be dark enough that no one will notice your lipstick…but they'll definitely see the black trenches carved into your cheeks. Shit.

You turn to the side, trying to tame your hair into a halfway decent shape. It doesn’t work, and you exhale roughly through your nose; the scrunchie you always wear around your wrist is snatched off, and you twist your hair into possibly the sloppiest, worst bun you’ve ever created, but it’ll have to do. Every single aspect of your appearance is like a bright red, flaring neon sign blinking above your head, ready to announce I HAD HOT SEX, AND THAT’S WHY I’M SO INCREDIBLY LATE.

You know it shouldn't matter; she doesn’t have much recourse since you're an adult, but fear still pangs in your gut so hard it makes you nauseous. You can picture it now, tiptoeing into the living room just to have the lamp in the living room flicker to life, your enraged and concerned mother silhouetted in the dim yellow light. You're sure you'll be able to see the steam rolling off her body in waves from where you'll be standing at the landing of the stairs. You'll be lucky if she lets you leave for the supermarket after this, let alone on another date.

"Shit, is it really that late?" Steve asks, and how his voice pitches up in genuine confusion only aids your panic. He bounds to the driver's side of the car, almost tripping over his feet as he fumbles the keys from his pocket and slams them into the ignition. Your butt barely touches the passenger side seat before the engine roars to life, and Steve slams on the gas.

Apologies tumble freely from his mouth as you clumsily clip your seatbelt into place, and you assure him it's alright as best you can while licking your fingers and scouring the mascara stripes off your cheeks. It doesn't work and tastes weird, but it's all you've got.

~~~

When Steve screeches up your driveway, you are an hour past curfew, and that’s only by the grace of God and Steve’s disregard for speed limits. 

You sling your purse strap over one shoulder and almost kick the passenger side door off its hinges as you get out of the car, but just before you're about to bolt up your driveway, you pause.

It wouldn't kill you to be just a little later, right?

You whip back around, and Steve stares up at you, a little breathless, flushed, and still so beautiful. You grip the edge of the window and bend down, poking your head inside the car.

"I had an amazing time," you say, and you wish Steve wouldn't smile at you the way he does because it makes you want to say, "Fuck it," and hop back in the car. But he does, and you don't, and he nods.

"You wanna do it again sometime? I mean, not, not it, like a date - well, we can do it again if you want to. I'm just saying we don't have to…."

He sighs, and you pretend not to notice the flexing and unflexing of his hands on the steering wheel. It's endlessly endearing how nervous he is when he isn't jamming his cock down your throat or eating you out like a starving man. Something in your mind wants to see how flustered you can make him, but you silence it.

"Such a way with words," you tease, and you cup his cheek in your hand. You kiss him tenderly, hoping it encapsulates everything you want to say but don't have time for right now. Fingers slide up the nape of your neck and ensnare themselves in your hair, keeping your lips locked for a few moments longer. Your mouth is swollen and chapped, but you'd kiss him all night if he'd let you. Maybe one day he will.

"I'd love to do this again, by the way," you hum against the corner of his mouth. "Assuming I live past tonight, that is."

"Looking forward to it, Y/N. Oh, and, by the way…."

He grips your hair, not too hard, but just enough to where you stiffen and let out a soft moan. He peppers kisses along your cheek, to your temple, to the shell of your ear.

"I'm keeping your panties. Maybe next time I'll shove 'em in your mouth if you try to play the quiet game again with me."

He releases his grip on your hair, and his hand purposefully slides along the curve of your jaw until it reaches your chin. He pinches it between thumb and forefinger and kisses the bewildered, now painfully aroused look off your face before leaning back, giving you a wink, and revving the car's engine.

"See you soon, baby," he calls. His car crunches back down your driveway, and you're left standing there, brain short-circuiting and threatening to melt out of your ears, hyperaware of the cold night air nudging against your bare pussy under your skirt. You press your thighs together and jam fabric between them self-consciously, hoping against hope that you won't flash your poor, unsuspecting mother, who is undoubtedly waiting for you to chew you out.

You turn unsteadily, gazing up at your house. The living room light is already on, and you can see a lithe shadow flitting anxiously from within the windows. You're going to get an earful.

It was so. Fucking. Worth it.

[lucygraysboy]

“oh, so i’m the most rotten child when our daughter literally smells like a rotten skunk’s butt? visceral. this title should be handed over to her,” he teases, putting a silly twist on her words. eyes squinting as she pinches his cheek, it stings a bit so he quickly grabs her small hand and peels it off his face, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles before letting it go. “our own covey. we’ll make sure they always have full bellies and a roof over their heads and the happiest childhood possible.” unlike the two of them, their children, even if they’re only dolls and it’s all play pretend, will not suffer the same fate. “a mystery song about my mystery eyes. well, now i’m lookin’ forward to hearin’ it.” he shakes his head, deciding she must be joking — there’s no way that a song could be written about him out of all people. “mmm, pretty in shape and color? i’m startin’ to think you’re fallin’ in love with me and my beautiful eyes, lucy gray. i don’t blame you. irish people are known for their charm.” laughing as it seems to be the only way to process his feelings other than melting into a puddle. “jokes aside, i really do think songs should be written about your eyes, not mine.” whoever thinks that brown eyes are boring has clearly never been in love with someone who’s got brown eyes, never seen them in warm sunlight, never seen them at all… “they make me think of hot chocolate, the kind my ma used to make on christmas mornin’, or rich honey on gingerbread.” what he doesn’t say is how he can barely look into these eyes without blushing, how he wouldn’t be able to say no to these eyes, how he’d die if he ever saw tears in these eyes. 

“oh, bear tales, hm? that what we callin’ them now? weren’t you the one sayin’ stuff like when a husband and his wife love each other…” he trails off with a laugh, grateful for the distraction. otherwise, he’d keep talking and talking about her eyes, and who knows what else he might have said? “well, my own wife and the mother of my children clearly didn’t think to teach me how to speak her language.” a melodramatic pout gracing his features, hand letting go of hers reluctantly as he lowers his head, avoiding her gaze so he doesn’t start laughing and gives himself away. “must be ‘cause i’m just a big, dumb dinosaur to you. big, dumb dino.” a heavy sigh falls from his lips, wondering what kind of reaction his dramatic performance will coax out of the brunette. “now this sounds less rude. what does tweet tweet tweet mean? teach me your language, wife o’ mine.” he can’t help but cheer up when she makes herself sound so sweet, handsome features lighting up. 

suddenly, billy’s breath hitches and a hot, tingling wave runs across the surface of his skin, originating from the spot right below his belly button where her small hand’s plastered to his abdomen and ending in his chest, his heart beating so hard and fast that he’s sure it’s about to jump right out. just seeing the stark contrast between her olive flesh and his pale one does something to him, but feeling her feather-light touch… god. he flushes all over, awkwardly tugging his shirt down to spare himself embarrassment. “umm…” now he needs another moment to collect his thoughts, smiling goofily at the beautiful girl, his heart still racing. “yeah, that and i finally learned how to run,” he laughs, shaking his head because it really is a wonder how some babies lose all their fat by the time they grow out of diapers. “so, see? our babies aren’t all that big.” smiling sweetly as she praises him for loving on their son, his blush only deepens and he looks down at daisy. he needs something to occupy himself with and so he picks up the other bottle and pretends to feed her. “there, there… that’s it. dinner’s served.” 

“don’t play innocent, mama’s most rotten child.” she gently pinches his cheek on where his sunburn hasn’t touched his skin the most, giving it a playful wiggle. “mhm, me neither. us and our own covey.” sweet smile dazzling her olive features, her heart feeling a special tenderness at that sentiment. “of course a song about your eyes,” she peps, “it’s always the best way to describe whatever the heart is tryin’ to say.” she writes and sings when she has something to say, or how to express something that's special to her. which would be the latter describing what she sees in his eyes, that would be an entire story on how she sees goodness in his heart behind his eyes. “it’ll be a mystery.” she playfully retorts to him saying it’ll be a romancing type of song. “they’re a pretty shape and color, too. unique.” blue? pale gray blue? the clearest blue and clearest green mixed together? that was a mystery too, it was hard to define his eye color to one color when she’s already been staring at him all day and noticed he has blue eyes to something even clearer than just blue in different lightings. billy taupe's was just a murky green and what truly made nothing stand out in them, was his awful heart.

“the sunset…that’s sweet, darlin’. thank you.” an adoring smile graces her lips, fawn like eyes lighting up like every star was hung in them at how sweet that is. “i don’t remember that, you’re just tellin’ bear tales on me.” playfully, she grinned. “you sure are smart, cause that’s exactly how it happens.” another warm laugh sounds from her, especially at the if he waters a cabbage everyday part. “how’s that? i wasn’t sayin’ nothin’ bad— but chirp chirp chirp does mean many things, you have to know bird language to understand it. hm, so what's this... the great billy knows english and spanish but he knows nothin’ about us bird’s and our language?” brows lift, teasing him as she’s holding onto his hand, afraid if she lets go he’s going to attack her again. "no, no no no. none of that, i've not recovered yet." grip tightens on his hand, flinching without him even moving. then she's watching him make rawr sounds and another bubble of amusement bubbles over and makes her cheeks hurt, "tweet tweet tweet." making her voice sound smaller so it sounds equally sweet as those to those little birds who tweet and chirp in trees all day, lucy gray sits up straighter. doe eyes fall on his belly he's showing her and immediately, she reaches out with her other hand to let her fingers dance against his abdomen. body of a greek god...she laughs, not because it's not true. but just because it's funny that's what he comes up with. he's lean and perfectly handsome, she agrees. but that's why she won't look at it for long, she'll start realizing she's never witnessed things like a male abdomen so closely and start blushing again.

"where'd all the piggyness go? cause that's hard to believe. maybe it just stretched an' stretched and that's how you got long limbs." she softly laughs, then wonders how she's admiring his reaction to putting dolls in face so much when she expected him to get annoyed. that just made him appear even cuter than he already is to her. she's going to do the same to billy taupe next time she has to see him, then compare the differences because she's certain he'll have a different reaction. "papa is so sweet to his babies." voice coos, small hand patting his cheek then she places her doll back down in her arm and lap.