#Hotel Tax Savings

[oconnor2023]

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[weathernerdmando]

My student refund and paycheck deposited and uh. I have more money at this point in time than I've ever had to my name.

Just. Kinda stunned to see that amount of money in my bank account. For once. I can't go wild or anything lol bc that would still tear through it but I don't have to worry about bills as long as I don't spend from the account dedicated to it. That's. Fucking WILD.

[dreamingpine]

do you think my characters hate me for loving them and hateing them and putting them thru it?

[furby-organist]

Angel didn't bat an eye at the cinnamon-snorting. Hey, if Alastor can turn a blind eye to him shoving a plate of hummus, pickles, and shredded cheese in the microwave, Angel could do the same for some batshit way of clearing the sinuses.

Furrowed brows, trying to think of any time that he'd been handed a paper that showed some sort of proof of income. Drawing blanks. Negatives. "......Like a bank statement? Credit card bill?" He's trying, he's trying so fucking hard.

> And bless Angel for that!

> "Hmm." Not only was Alastor discovering that Angel didn't have a W-2, he was discovering that Angel didn't know what the fuck a W-2 was. He'll tread carefully. "Sort of, but not exactly. Something like this." He shifts through the obnoxious paperwork on his desk and pulls out one of his own tax forms, a bit different than what he'd expect Angel to have since Alastor's self-employed. (This man is broke as shit and he has the receipts to prove it.)

[hotelpropertytaxes]

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[deadsetobsessions]

Okay, so maybe Tim has no business being in Bludhaven. Tim maintains that since his parents fail at parenting, he can do whatever he wants.

Besides, it's for a good cause. Like, not letting Tarantula get her dirty hands on his big brother in another time line. Tarantula had popped up in the Bludhaven servers - by that, Tim means the endless amounts of threads and underground fronts for criminal activity that he stalks on a regular basis- by being seen with Nightwing. Tim had immediately booked a ride to Bludhaven and bought another burner. He'd try to take care of her himself, but if worse comes to worse, he'd call Deathstroke. He's totally aware of the weird tension Deathstroke has with Nightwing and Tim's kind of banking on that.

Dick's been back in Blud for two months now, Jason having assuaged his mother hen tendencies enough for Dick to get sick of the Manor. Tim hadn't meant to follow since he had plenty of projects to work on now that "SAVE JASON" wasn't blaring at the top of his head.

But then Tarantula appeared and Tim saw red, remembering the way Dick spoke about her and what she did to him.

He bids the driver goodbye. The driver doesn't question his being on his lonesome mainly because 1) Gothamites mind their own busines, 2) Tim gave him a $500 tip to make sure he remains a "good" Gothamite cabbie, and 3) Tim made sure he was dropped off in the swankiest, most ostentatious hotel Bludhaven had to offer.

"Rich people," the cab driver had muttered as Tim closed the door. Perfect.

Tim got his keycard, having checked in under Alvin Draper over the phone. Normally, they'd require an in person visit, but money talks. And people listened when Tim had a lot of things to say.

Tim even feels like he's trained enough to go out! Lady Shiva's training was ingrained into his memory, and Tim's built enough muscle to make use of some of it. He is still nine, after all. He's so much stealthier this time around. Plus, he's got almost his full tool set back. Sure, some of the tech is ancient, but he managed to finagle it to make grappling guns and smoke pellets more along the quality that he's used to.

Tim waits until nightfall, looping the surveillance around his window to mask his exit. Tim adjusts his domino, eyes scanning the city skyline as his handheld computer (god, he can't believe he has to invent wrist computers) tracked reports of Nightwing through Tweetings.

Ah. He's around Seventh. Tim grimaces as his untested joints adjusts to the grappling guns. His dark clothes make him hard to spot, to his advantage as he tracks down Nightwing.

Tim watches, perched on an adjacent roof as Nightwing takes down a crowd of goons with the flips Tim remembered watching from afar and up close in another timeline.

"Blockbuster'll kill everyone you love, Nightwing!"

Tim winces at the rather brutal crunch that followed, Nightwing having punched the guy and knocked him out in one move. He watches Dick sigh, tugging at his hair in stress.

Tim could... no, no. He shouldn't think of murder as a first option. Well, no, he shouldn't think of Deathstroke as a first option. But he'll need to take Blockbuster out before anything happens. And he needs to threaten the new Tarantula before anything happens. He won't allow her to even get close to Dick.

Maybe it's unfair to punish her for a crime she hasn't done, but unlike murder, rape can never be defended. Catalina Flores is a dead woman walking.

Tim stalks his big brother back home and then broke off to begin his short reign of terror over Bludhaven's underground. If he can't get Dick to take a break (and Tim's tried, a lot, over the years) then he'll make sure that the next month is as gentle as possible on his older brother.

Step 1. Murder Take care of Blockbuster

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

No. Wait. Tim has a better idea. He's got dirt on them, on top of the murder thing. He'll fabricate Catalina's tax returns, embezzle a shit ton of money from the IRS, and get her and her corrupt brother (because getting your sister out from murder charges is considered corrupt) arrested and locked away. And he'll make sure they stay locked away with some good old blackmail on Amanda Waller.

Tim grins, tranquilizing the building with an ungodly amount of knock out gas pellets, to riffle through the police precinct's files.

Step 2. Threaten Catalina Flores and her brother.

Step 2. Cripple Catalina Flores and her brother with blackmail and the IRS.

In three hours, Tim has everything he needs to begin a temporary hostile takeover. He's got the names of local mob bosses, the big players, and the names of practically every police officer that takes bribes and their... sponsors.

He'll have to cut off Blockbuster's lines of supplies first. Then, blacklist him from local suppliers, mobilize the police precinct against him (by imitating his M.O. perfectly- Tim's not a fucking amateur- and pretending to rob the precinct blind), and then break his knees.

Step 3. Profit

Tim takes out his shiny new burner phone, enjoying the loud sounds of the police squawking through his planted bugs. He lounges on the building next to it, keeping an eye out for Nightwing just in case the man decides to respond to the crisis.

[Unknown: It's RR.]

[Deathstroke: New phone?]

[RR: Who dis?]

[Deathstroke: What?]

[RR: Nevermind. I'll give you forty thousand to shoot someone's knees out.]

[Deathstroke:... That's it? Who?]

[RR: Blockbuster. Bludhaven. Extra twenty thousand if you tell him he's got the spine of a sea slug, kick him in the balls, and post it on Tweeting.]

[Deathstroke: What did he do to you? Deal.]

Tim ignored Deathstroke's question.

[RR: Half sent. Confirm?]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed. Timeline?]

[RR: Three weeks. 21 days.]

[Deathstroke: Confirmed.]

----

Tim grins ferally, all teeth as Catalina Flores looked on in horror at her computer screen.

"Get out of Bludhaven, and don't come back. If you even think of going near Nightwing, I will rip what's left of your pathetic, sniveling swine of a brother apart. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Tim clicks off, watching Catalina and her brother launch themselves into mad packing. He tapped out a short message to Amanda Waller for her and her team to intercept them at the state lines. They'll never get away from Tim's fury. Never.

[Waller: It's done.]

[Waller: I will find you.]

[RR: You can definitely try, Waller. Good doing business with you.]

Tim can see the blood vessel the woman popped after he sent that last message. He laughs.

He saves Deathstroke's video from Tweeting onto his actual, spoofed phone. He destroys the burner phone, less shiny now that he's dragged it through two and a half weeks of breaking heads and terrorizing the Bludhaven Underground. Nightwing hadn't even gotten a whiff of his activities, this Dick being far less experienced and known in this version of Blud.

One more week and Tim can continue his other projects.

----

Nightwing, going about his vigilante business: wow it sure is peaceful

Feral Tim Drake, Nightwing's scary dog privilege: try me, bitch

[lyrarizi]

THIS POST CONTAINS DISCUSSION ABOUT HAZBIN HOTEL LEAKS

i sadly saw the leaks of hazbin s2 and now a whole plotpoint is ruined for me, i can make sure if you are still saved from seeing them, this is my advice just take a couple days of social media ESPECIALLY of tiktok and wait until the leaks are removed from platforms because they are HEAVY leaks they arent just some simple conversations

how i found out is a gacha reaction video on youtube without ANY spoiler warnings, just dont watch upcoming reaction vids if you consume them people WILL take profit and make reactions, under the cut is the exact name of the video but im not going to type that here since its kinda on the nose and will give you a huge idea of what the leak is about

ALSO: i said under the cut that comments are a safe space to talk and discuss about the spoiler so do NOT look at them since they will showcase spoiler, so to make it clear hopefully

DO NOT LOOK IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU WANT TO STAY SPOILER FREE PLEASE <3

under the cut is discussion about one of the leaks so if you want to stay spoiler free i beg you do not read further

so about that leak..

i do not like it one bit, i am praying to god its fake because it is such a weird choice

because as we see in the leak rosie owns alastor's soul, that is heavily implied, and i myself do not like this choice

we can clearly see alastor does not like rosie and rosie only sees him as a pet and calls him so, this just ruins their whole dynamic for me

alastor and rosie seemed genuine friends and loved to spend time with one nother they were really cute, i thought alastor finally had somone he could lean on

so this

is all fake, all of alastor's moments that we thought were rare moments of his real joy, are fake.

rosie being happy that her best friend has returned from his 7 years disappearance to who knows where?

fake, she's just happy her pet is home to clean up her dirty work..

this also puts into perspective that alastor really does not have any real friends, niffty still always is on his leash so there is a power imbalance, husker probably hates him, vox hates him too and when they were friends i think alastor only was there for the entertainment or he saw him not as a friend anymore as soon as vox confessed

but i really do not like this.

i saw those two as a genuine friendship, married for tax benefits, queerplatonic, best friends for life, even lovers,

not as master/pet

they were cute together, alastor finally had someone he could trust and rosie had someone she could hangout with, gossiping together, rosie enables alastor and alastor enables rosie, maybe they were a bit transactional but you could clearly see they cared about eachother

in the leak we see a total different dynamic, alastor hates rosie and plays along with her, rosie takes delight in alastor's suffering and degrades him like calling him "pet" puts him in cages, uses him as a doll

this is the video i looked at:

im not shaming them this is just the internet but this clearly shows the leak without any sort of warning on the title, cover, or even in the description, i knew nothing about alastor's deal leaks so i had no idea this one would show leaks

as far as i know this the only gacha reaction up to this point where they react to leaks

but now, while i have been writing this post i have been thinking about it.

this is a fun twist i can say, nobody was seeing this coming this is an actual surprise

i can accept and deal with the fact that rosie is alastor's soulowner and maybe still find enjoyment in it, i mean i always love to see alastor suffer and him having 0 real friends is pretty funny (AND SAD)

but if you want to talk about the leaks here in the comments is a safe space to discuss, i can understand you would like to talk with someone about this revelation so come say hi in the comments if you want :D

UPDATE:

So have been thinking about the leak for a bit once i let it sink in

We saw the leak and it looks real (good animation that is hazbin hotel style and the voices are not ai or someone must have had a really good bot for that)

But just because we saw the leak doesn't mean we have context for it

I still am a full believer in the eve/roo theory even after this leak and have been pondering on this animatic

What if roo posessed or shapeshifted into rosie??

We know Alastor doesn't have a good relation with his soulowner and he seems to genuinely like rosie's company, he even bleats and his pupils dilate thats not something you can controle

So it makes no sense for it to be actually rosie

My theory is that roo wanted to be extra petty towards Alastor and decided to sing that song to him as rosie, because whats better than singing a song about owning their soul as their only real loyal best friend??

I know i'm just stretching at this point but i refuse to believe this without context and hazbin is already hella fucking complicated so this could fit

Anyways what do you think? You think this leak is real or fake, do you also not believe it or are you in denial? Lemme know i'm curious and love to trade theories! <3

[wannabanauthor]

I want a slow burn BuckTommy fanfic.

And I mean slow burn.

I want them hanging out, grabbing a beer, going to the movies, and spending time with Eddie.

Then one day, Eddie asks Buck if he can drop something off to him at Tommy’s house. Buck knocks on the door when he gets there and is greeted by a shirtless Tommy.

Tommy says they’re sparring in Muay Thai, and Buck’s like “can I watch?” And then spends the entire time salivating over Tommy without knowing what he was feeling.

Buck convinces himself that he’s only admiring Tommy’s body because Buck is also a fitness enthusiast.

Then Eddie leaves, and Buck barely notices because he’s staring at Tommy.

Tommy is not an idiot. He knows when another guy is checking him out, but he thinks it’s better to let Buck figure it out on his own.

Buck has different plans though. He takes off his shirt and is like “teach me Muay Thai”.

Now Tommy is the one staring. Maybe he starts asking Buck about his tattoos and even touched one and asks if it hurt to get them, meanwhile Buck has to restrain a moan in his throat.

Tommy just raises an eyebrow and continues asking about the tattoos. Then they do some light Muay Thai training, and Buck takes a cold shower when he gets home.

He has a wet dream about Tommy that night, and he still doesn’t know what to do because he’s not into men, right? Everyone makes a strangled sound when a hot guy with a great body touches them, right? He also finds himself with an erection that refuses to go away. So he gets himself off, and near the end Tommy pops into his mind, and he comes harder than he ever has in his life.

A few days later, Buck’s leg starts acting up, so Eddie asks Tommy to check on Buck and see if he needs anything while Eddie has to work.

Tommy comes over with food and entertainment to take Buck’s mind off the pain. Buck is happy and grateful, and is also a spoiled princess and puts his legs on Tommy’s lap, and Tommy gives him a leg massage. To both legs. Maybe it turns into a full body massage to help Buck relax.

Buck is practically in love but doesn’t know how to deal with or even properly acknowledge his feelings.

Later on during a shift, Tommy and Buck get called to the same accident site. They work really well together, and the people they save tell Buck that his boyfriend is very good at his job, and he’s like “my what now?”

Tommy pretends not to hear anything, but he’s quickly losing control of patience and willpower. He wants to make a move so badly, but he doesn’t want to freak Buck out.

So one night, Buck is elbow deep in Tommy’s social media profile and comes across an old post of Tommy kissing another man and referring to him as boyfriend. When I say elbow deep, I mean he’s 3 years into Tommy’s post history.

Seeing Tommy with another guy makes Buck feel angry, but he refuses to acknowledge why. Until he sees Tommy and accidentally confronts him.

Like maybe they’re sitting on a couch, Tommy takes a swig of his favorite craft beer that Buck bought him, and Buck just blurts out “are you gay?”

Tommy doesn’t even choke in surprise. He just says yep nonchalantly.

And then…stay tuned for the next update. This might be a summary fic (my term for a fanfic that’s more an in depth summary rather than actual fleshed out fic).

I want to see how long I can go on without having them kiss. I want longing and yearning and sleepless nights. Wait, omg, what if there’s only one bed in their hotel room in Vegas. What if they get drunk and accidentally get married? They try to get it annulled, but Buck’s like “wait a minute, we get a tax break” and Tommy has to be like “I think that’s called fraud.”

There are so many ways I can drag this out.

[octuscle]

Body swap, not mind swap

Djamal dug his hands deep into the fat flesh of his customer. They said that Yuri was unimaginably rich. He was the very model of an oligarch. But he was also unbelievably fat. Djamal wondered why Yuri didn't just have fat suctioned out. Or at least take advantage of all the aids that would help him lose weight and stop puffing and panting like a walrus. Djamal's name meant “the beautiful” and his appearance was incredibly important to him. He thought to himself: better to be poor and beautiful than rich and a walrus.

Yuri had set his cell phone to speaker. He probably assumed that he could make a phone call undisturbed on the massage table on the terrace of his villa belonging to the hotel complex. He probably hadn't suspected that Djamal not only spoke the Arabic of his old and the French of his new home fluently, but also Russian. Russian clients in St. Tropez were the richest and most generous. To be able to serve this market, he had started to learn the language early on. And now he was hearing things he obviously wasn't supposed to hear. Because Yuri was in trouble. His liberal attitude, his good relations with the democracies of Western Europe and his critical attitude towards the military special operation had caused him to fall out of favor at home. Many of his Russian assets had apparently been seized or were about to be. Yuri lamented the fact that some paintings he had acquired from the depots of the Pushkin Museum would now fall back into the hands of the Russian state.

His conversation partner said that the preparations for Yuri's going underground were as good as complete. Now only the host was missing. Djamal had just found a tension point that he tried to release with a firm grip. Yuri said that his masseur could be a great host. “And would you like to be my host?” Yuri asked in Russian and laughed uproariously. “I'd love to, but my house is very modest,” Djamal replied. Yuri turned pale. ‘I'll call you later,’ he said. And even though Djamal was still working on his neck, the walrus turned around. ”You speak Russian? That's perfect! I have a business deal to offer you.”

It was 2:00 a.m. Djamal lay awake. The offer was too incredible to be true. Yuri wanted to swap bodies with him. In return, Djamal would receive €100,000,000.00 in an account that was frozen for five years. And full access to Yuri's body and life. Yuri was honest, it wouldn't be a walk in the park. He was being watched by the Russian secret service, tax authorities and God knows who else. He would probably have to give up almost everything except the €100,000,000.00 to save his life. But if he made it through the five years, he would be a rich man. A very rich man. However, he would also be a very fat man with a smoker's lung, a drunk's liver and broken knee joints. And Yuri would live a life of relative poverty, but in his own body. Djamal tossed and turned. This chance would never come again. Besides, the body swap wouldn't work anyway; it sounded like silly magic. Yes, this chance would never come again. Tomorrow he would make the pact with Yuri.

My God, what an unbelievably fat pig, Djamal thought to himself. Yuri had just polished off a large bowl of caviar, washing it down with Roederer Cristal. “And?” Yuri asked, looking as bored as possible. He was far from bored. It was a matter of life and death. “Done,” Djamal said, shaking His enormous paunch wobbled. What a pig, Djamal thought again. But now the deal is done.

Yuri's lawyer had done a great job. Djamal had to sign dozens of contracts. Most of them were with some offshore companies. Yuri's name was nowhere to be found. But after three days, Djamal was a damn rich man. His fortune consisted of real estate in Uruguay, shares in the Cayman Islands and a chain of gyms in Egypt. Djamal was no billionaire. But he was filthy rich. However, he wouldn't be Djamal for much longer. It hadn't been a week since he and Yuri had been on a private jet on the way to Tehran. An old Mercedes sedan took them to a villa hidden behind high walls and a large park in the north of the megacity. There were no explanations; there was just an envelope on the desk in his bedroom. For the next 24 hours, only water from the bottles provided, otherwise, remain sober. Djamal grinned. If the same applied to Juri, it would certainly be a greater challenge for him than for Djamal. He should stay in his room for the next 24 hours. There was satellite TV, internet and a Playstation, so he would survive that. And tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. he would be picked up for “treatment”. Djamal tried to distract himself from his excitement as much as possible. He did sit-ups to relieve the tension. He tried to sleep. Eventually he managed to do that. And eventually his cell phone rang. 7:30 a.m. Showtime.

The young man who picked him up didn't say a word. Djamal was supposed to leave everything in his room. The note said that he should only wear the surgical gown and slippers. He did as he was told. They went down in an elevator. The door opened into a futuristic-looking room. Juri was already lying on a table. His flabby body spilled over the edge on the right and left. He was obviously asleep. Djamal lay down on the couch next to Juri. Someone inserted a cannula into him. That was the last thing he was supposed to see. At least in his body.

When Djamal woke up, he was lying in a bed. The room looked similar to the one where he had played with the Playstation a while ago. Djamal urgently needed to go to the toilet. He wanted to jump out of bed. But he couldn't. Almost 200 kilograms of body fat were holding him back. It was a challenge to get out of bed. It was a challenge to go to the bathroom. But it was a huge challenge to look in the mirror. This was no longer the fit fitness trainer. This was a fat man. And with rings under his eyes and disheveled hair, he looked even more terrible than the Juri he knew from the Cote d'Azur. Djamal, no Yuri, looked around the bathroom. It was full of creams, serums and lotions. It looked like the cosmetics department of a luxury department store. Yuri didn't care about any of that. What use were all these luxury cosmetics to him in this body? Maybe a shower would help. Maybe he could go for a walk afterwards. Yuri showered and went back to his room with only a very large towel around his fat hips. There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Yuri said in Arabic. Sasha entered. Sascha was Yuri's chauffeur and bodyguard. “All right, boss?” he asked in Russian. Sure, he was Russian. “All right, comrade,” replied Yuri. Sasha smiled irritably. And then he began to explain to his boss what was going to happen next. Breakfast would be served in a moment. Then his butler would come and pack his suitcase. In three hours, the helicopter would take them to the airport. Where they would then go. Yuri remembered the consultations with the old Yuri. “Tbilisi,” he replied. “Business!”

After showering, having some fruit and green tea for breakfast and sitting in a tailor-made suit in his private jet, Yuri felt a little more comfortable in his own skin. Okay, the few steps from the helicopter to the private jet had been exhausting. But he would get back into shape. Faster than he would have liked. As soon as they had left Iranian airspace, they were accompanied by two Russian fighter jets. She would not fly to Tbilisi. They would fly to Baku. And there she would be received by an envoy of the Kremlin. His jet and his luggage had been confiscated. And Yuri would be placed under house arrest. In a guest house of the Azerbaijani government.

Old Yuri would rage. At the Russians' audacity. At the collaboration of the Azeris! At the unworthy conditions in the shabby guesthouse, which was idyllically situated on the Caspian Sea. On board the plane, there had only been Sasha, the pilot and the flight attendant. But he was separated from Yuri. Yuri was alone and on his own. In a not particularly large house with a sea view. He was prepared for the fact that pressure would be put on him. That he should cede all claims to his assets in Russia and its satellite states. That he would have to pay a ransom for his own freedom. Yuri would have liked to consult with someone. But he no longer had a telephone, he was cut off from the world. So he did what he had done before: sports.

For a full four weeks, Yuri was locked up in his rather gilded cage. Then a “prosecutor” appeared and presented Yuri with various documents to sign. Yuri had no idea what he even owned. But it looked as if not much of it would remain. In fact, there was even a passage that stipulated that any mobile and immobile assets that would become known in the next three years would also be confiscated. Yuri was compensated with his apartment in Zurich, one million Swiss francs, and the luggage that he had had on board his plane. And he would be allowed to use this plane one last time for the flight to Zurich. Just under five years… He had to endure just under five years in these, for him, not particularly modest circumstances. And after that, he would get the secret account. And be incredibly rich. Yuri signed.

Obviously, he hadn't gotten all of his baggage back. Sasha, who was flying with him to Zurich, had helped himself to his jewelry and watches. It wasn't his. And Sasha had never been his confidant. But he knew that old Yuri would have been incredibly disappointed in his chauffeur and bodyguard. The new Yuri was just disgusted by a collaborator, who was now adorned with Yuri's tasteless gold jewelry. Yuri himself looked miserable. Thanks to plenty of exercise and a healthy diet, he had lost almost 40 kilograms in the four weeks. His tailored clothes hung on him like sacks. When they arrived in Zurich, Sascha Juri was taken to passport control with his suitcases and bags. He still had his Swiss passport, so entering the country was a mere formality. He had enough money for the taxi ride. And then he found himself sitting in a tacky apartment, which he would hardly be able to afford to keep with the little money he still had, and he began to make plans. He booted up the computer and googled “compression garments in XXXL”. And then he set out on a long and sweat-inducing walk.

Djamal was still in good shape and athletic. But for the owner of one of the largest fitness studio chains in the Middle East, he was not fit enough. He had heard wonderful things about the club's head personal trainer. And indeed, Yuri was one of the best in his field. “My Life Without 300 Pounds” had become a global bestseller. And his fitness channel was one of the most successful of an influencer over 50. Djamal was unsure. “Have we met?” he asked. “Vaguely,” replied Juri.

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Rescue

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Guys this is a very long chapter with a lot going on please put on your seatbelts, settle in, because it gets wild.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warning: R explains the trauma she dealt with as a child, SMUT. Oral (F receiving), Fingering (F receiving), Praise, Dirty talk, partially protected sex (F on the shot) Aaron has a slight breeding kink, cream pie,

Present Day

David waves one final time before slipping into his car, the parking deck of the quantico office quiet and still in the late hours. It’s nearing 12am, you’re mentally taxed, your brain begging to shut down but you can’t stop fidgeting in the passenger seat beside Aaron.

Aaron’s face is hard set, his eyes gauging your every move. “What do you want to do?” His voice is soft, filling the quiet cab, “I can take you to your neighbor’s if that would make you feel better…” There’s another option he would like to give you, his own nerves firing in overtime, afraid to let you leave his sight.

You’re staring out the window at the concrete walls, you feel hallow, like something inside your body has shattered and you’ve lost all of the important pieces. “I…” you like your lips, trying to find your voice. “Anna said she was okay with Bruce, right?”

“Yes.” Aaron draws out the word, searching for your face in the darkened glass, barely able to make out your reflection. You look torn down, the strong woman he has known chipped away to reveal a scared little girl, running from whatever darkness haunts her past. “We can go wherever you need to.”

“I’d… I just…” you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have only been a few hours between what happened and now, and each one has been filled with flourished activity. You haven’t had time to stop and process what has happened, your brain now catching up to your body. Your head throbs slightly, the few cuts in your palms sting when you close your fists, your eyes hurt from crying so much. But the worst of it all is the war raging in your mind, the struggle of keeping it all in or letting it all out a constant battle that you seem to be losing more and more control over.

“Why don’t we take a ride?” The suggestion breaks through your thoughts, making you turn towards Aaron. His face is so soft, an expression you’ve never seen before, and you aren’t sure if you want to hate it or long for it.

“Okay…”

And so he does just that. He drives into the city, the street lights zipping by, barely illuminating dark houses and empty streets. Aaron drives with no real destination in mind, taking random turns, navigating the roads as you sit in silence. Eventually one of his hands come to rest beside your thigh, the flash of light on his watch catching your attention.

It’s a reminder.

An offer.

Salvation.

An hour passes in stark silence before you take your first deep breath, the noise loud in the small space. “Thank you… for saving me.” You force your voice to steady out, grappling for the mask you so carefully constructed all those years ago to shield the rubble of your true form.

“Do not thank me.” Aaron responds, rolling to a stop at a traffic light. You’re unfamiliar with this part of town, but it looks like a nice area with large lawns and small houses. “I just want you to talk to me.”

Your lips press together, glancing down at his large hand. Slowly you let your own hand slip off of your lap, tentatively touching his pinky with yours.

“I… it’s hard… and messy.” You whisper, watching how his fingers twitch but he makes no move to take your hand.

“I understand… but please, let me help you.” The light above suddenly cascades the car in neon green, and Aaron’s drives on, his face stoney and a twinge of desperation in his voice.

You turn your gaze back to the window with a deep breath, the cracks in your soul widening as you speak.

“I… I had a fairly normal childhood when I was younger. Very typical suburban family, my mother stayed home with me while my father worked at a mechanic shop. Happy, picturesque family…” You swallow thickly, choking on the pressure building in your chest. “I was 8 when my mom died… she was hit by a drunk driver and my dad just… he couldn’t handle it. He loved her so much that when she died he snapped. He started drinking and I… he would drink so much that I would find him passed out for hours on end and I was still just a child…”

A dark bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head as you lean back into the seat. “Then one day he seemed to wake up. Instead of being mad at the world and God, things that felt no retribution from his anger, he decided that he needed something that would. Me. The night she died she was on the way home from seeing her mother. It was so late but I missed her, she had been gone for two days. I begged her to come home.”

You can still see that night vividly when you closed your eyes, the old house filled with police officers, the broken sound of your father’s begging screams. The female officer who had taken you to your room to explain that your mother would not be coming home as she sat with you on the floor surrounded by coloring books and stuffed animals.

“He told me my emotions caused everything. That if I had just sucked it up and been strong she would still be with us. He made me believe it, and… I still do to this day. From that moment on he had decided to train me to be better.”

Your fingers inch farther across Aaron’s knuckles, and finally he flips his palm, lacing your fingers through his. The feeling of him squeezing your hand settles your rolling stomach.

“Our house was a fixer upper, the guest bathroom had never been completed so my dad… painted over the small window, put foam over the gaps to the door and threw me in. I…” Your grip tightens, your throat restricting. You look over at Aaron’s normally stoic face and see barely restrained rage. “Hours and hours I’d spend in that room…. As I grew older it grew worse. He’d keep me from school… have me do everything my mother used to do. Clean, make all the meals, laundry. By the time high school rolled around I had missed so much school CPS has been called. The case was dropped in an instance because my dad charmed the woman over, said I was a run away most of the time since my mother died.”

Aarons grip on the wheel is white knuckled, his lips pressed into a hard line as he focuses on the road ahead. “I was beat with a belt that night. It gave me the courage to leave though. From that moment on I worked my ass off to get here… I just… I didn’t want there to be another kid like me… I know what my father did was wrong but it’s so ingrained in my head that every emotion I let slip through could be my undoing, could be the reason the next bad thing happens to me or those I care for… I can’t… I can’t let that happen again.”

You glance over to Aaron, who’s silence is becoming unnerving as his thumb strokes over your own. Finally he pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles for a long moment before he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I know those words do little for what you have been through… I also know you don’t want to be pitied, and I’m not going to do that. You are extremely strong, Y/n. You have over come something that most people would let consume their lives, steer them to destitution.” He licks his lips and glances your way briefly, noting the solemn look on your face. “You know my opinion on your emotions, and I think you’re wrong about believing they can only bring you harm or failure. You’ve done so much involving them already you just haven’t realized it yet.

You have accomplished things that others only dream of, you alone and no one else. Your father played no role in this, he didn’t train you to become the woman you are, that was there all along. And I know deep in my heart that your mother is watching you with pride.” Your heart, the damaged organ that it is, swells from the praise and the thought of your mother. Your eyes burn and you’re surprised you have anything left to let out. But then again it’s years of buildup all coming to a head.

“Is he the reason for these?” Aaron gestures to your thigh, and you nod slightly.

“He threw me into the bathroom once and some of the tiles were broken… I can’t really feel the area anymore but I have what I guess you would call a phantom pain every now and again.”

Aaron brings your hand back for another gentle kiss, the delicate action such a contrast to the gleam of fury in his dark eyes. “My brave girl.” And for whatever reason, those three words break you. Maybe it’s because Aaron is seeing you, and not a facade, maybe it’s the perception of the fact that you are brave, or maybe it’s the simple claim that indicates so much more than ownership.

Comfort.

Safety.

Someone to rely on when you need it the most.

You clamp your other hand over your mouth as you sob, leaning into his shoulder as you feel everything fall into you all at once. Letting another person hold the weight of your world for just a little bit.

Aaron turns into a parking lot, into the first spot he can find before killing the engine and wrapping you in a tight hug. The consul is digging into your ribs, his hold is a little suffocating, but you bury your face into his chest anyways.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure?”

Once you had finally calmed down Aaron offered you his guest room for the night. You were an hour away from home but only 20 minutes from his. After a long moment of hesitation you agreed, much to his visual relief. But now standing in front of his door you feel your reservations creeping back in.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He pushes the door open and steps into a dark room. Your breath unintentionally hitches, your eyes scanning the deep darkness until light floods the area. “I have a security system installed. We will get you the same one for your home.”

The beeping of the alarm would have went completely unnoticed had Aaron not said anything as he fiddles with the control panel on the other wall. He turns once it goes silent, watching you as you linger in the doorway, doubt and fear waging in your eyes as you scan over his simply furnished apartment.

“It’s okay. I promise.”

He’s warm reassurance makes you feet ease into the room, the door shutting firmly behind you. You’re entire body is rigid, arms slung around your center like you’re holding yourself together with your own white knuckled grip. Aaron bites his lip slight before stepping closer, gesturing to the rooms behind him.

“What would you like to do? Are you hungry?”

You tug slightly at your necklace, opening your mouth only to find the words are stuck deep in your throat.

“Y/n?” He steps closer and your eyes snap to his.

“I… I don’t know what I want to do… my head is pounding and I just… I can’t figure it out, I can’t decide.” Your stare is helpless, eyes flickering back and forth between his brown ones. It’s your way of asking for his help without letting the words out because if you do you’re scared of what you will become after that.

Something in his face shifts, it’s ever so slight but you can see it in the way he shrugs out of his coat, tossing it on the back of the couch. You can see it in the way his shoulders roll back and the lines around his eyes soften. “I know baby.” He closes the distance between you, cupping your face between burning hands and you physically feel the tension draining from your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay? We will go from there.”

Aaron leads you through the apartment, flicking on the lights as he goes, he walks you into his bedroom, a space as simply furnished as the rest of his home; and towards his joint bathroom. “Why don’t you wash your hands and I’ll find you something to wear to bed?”

Even though he is phrasing everything as a question you know he’s giving you the guidance you need, not making you over think or pick what needs to be done first. You nod your head and he gives you a soft smile before ducking out of the restroom.

You glance at your hands, the nurses had cleaned your hands enough to remove the shards of glass but there is still blood caked between your fingers and under your nails. Turning on the water you test the temperature before easing your hands under the flow. A soft hiss leaves your lips at the sting but you find yourself leaning into it.

You don’t notice Aaron standing in the doorway, watching as your hands tremble under the steaming water. “Here.” You jump faintly at the sudden rasp of his voice, finding him in the mirror.

He steps by you, his hand skimming your waist and your attention zeros in on the touch. Aaron grabs a rag from the shelf over the toilet, gently pushing you from in front of the sink. He wets the rag and turns to you, reaching for your hands without another word and begins to wipe away the blood and grime.

His hands hold yours softly, and you never knew he could be so gentle. Your eyes can’t leave his face, the concentration making lines appear between his brow, his eyes squinting slightly.

Aaron glances up at the feeling of you watching him and your cheeks flush, having been caught but still unable to look away. Once finished with your hands he rinses the rag, cupping your face once more as he runs the rough material over your cheek, cleaning away the stains of makeup.

Your eyes flutter, something in your body thrumming to life with each swipe of the cloth. “Aaron…” You don’t even mean to say his name, the syllables just fall so easily from your lips and he stills, eyes boring into yours.

“Sweet girl.” He breathes back, and your insides twist sharply. The tension is undeniable, the feeling of him so close forcing your body to react. You inch closer, your eyes dropping to his lips, watching as a smile curves the corner of his mouth.

The rag falls to the counter, his hands pulling you in the rest of the way. You’re nearly on your tiptoe, your hands finding his arms to steady yourself. He brushes a soft kiss against your lips and you whimper, the sound high in your throat and he breaks, deepening the kiss with hunger.

Electricity shoots through your body, pinging off of every nerve, setting them all ablaze. His hands move to your waist, bunching up your shirt until his palms meet your warm skin, and you shudder at the feeling. Aaron moans, the sound deep in his chest and you whimper as it travels through your bones straight to your core.

Pressing you backwards, Aaron walks you out of the restroom, hands wandering the plains of your back. You stumble against him, letting him lead you to the bed where the backs of your knees brush the king sized mattress. Your heart pounds in your chest, but when Aaron breaks the kiss to look down at you, he finds no hesitation in the dewy set of your eyes.

“Can I?” His voice is husky as he tugs at your sweater and you offer a small nod. He kisses you again, knocking the air from your lungs as he helps you pull your arms free, backing away to slip the cotton over your head and throw it to the floor. You’re in nothing fashionable, a simple black t-shirt bra but the hunger in his gaze is undeniable. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your hands find his chest, going for the buttons of his white shirt only for Aaron to grab your wrists, pulling your hands to his lips to kiss your palms. “Aaron I…”

“Do you know how hard it was to work today? Knowing you’re just a few feet away from me?” You shake your head, swaying slightly on your feet. “All I was able to think about was you. How your lips taste, how you moan my name, the way you looked underneath me in the morning.”

All of those things felt like a lifetime ago, and as his teeth nipped your skin just over the pulse in your wrist, you realize you would do anything to relive it. “I need you.” Your voice is a desperate, soft plea; your eyes alight with need making his lips curl.

“Then let me take care of you.” He whispers, his grip tightening slightly. You lick your lips, his gaze darting down for a breath before snagging your eyes again, there’s so much lust and need swirling in the depths of his brown irises that you find yourself lost in them. “Let me show you how you deserve to be treated, princess.”

“Please.” It’s a soft breath of a word, but it’s all that’s needed.

Aaron kisses you so forcefully that you’re sure your lips will be bruised, but you don’t have time to care as he suddenly pushes you. The bed springs squeak under the sudden impact of your body, the air leaving your lungs in one big whoosh. Aaron’s fingers expertly pop the button of your jeans, and your blood buzzes with excitement as you lift your hips, helping him pull them down and off your legs, taking your shoes and socks with them.

There’s something about the way he is suddenly above you, still fully dress in his work clothes where as you’re laid out scarcely clad in your underwear set, with nothing to hide behind. It’s a display of dominance that sends a rush of wet heat to your center.

Aaron smiles down at you, his hands making their way up your thighs, spreading your legs for you to display the soaked gusset of your grey panties. The moan that rips from his throat makes your stomach clench, your teeth impaling the pink flesh of your lip.

“You are all I have been able to think about,” He whispers, his fingers curling into the band of your panties as he moves to his knees. “And now I finally get to have you.” Aaron pulls your panties down your trembling thighs, laying you bare before him as he slips one of your legs over his shoulder.

His warm breath fans over your soaked lips, your vision going hazy as you prop yourself on an elbow to see. He looks sinful between your thighs, dark eyes looking up at you through darker lashes, his hair tussled, jaw hanging open slightly. The anticipation makes your stomach swoop and the breath in your lungs freeze.

You’re given no warning before he ducks his head, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your entrance and catching on your clit. You gasp at the sensation, your head falling back against the bed. Aaron wraps his arm around your thigh, holding you still as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, your legs threatening to squeeze his skull.

“Oh fuck…” You moan, your hand finding his short hair and tugging almost painfully, back leaving the bed. Aaron smiles against you, his teeth nipping at your folds before he lazily fucks his tongue into your dripping hole. “Oh god, Aaron…”

“You taste so fucking sweet.” His arm tightens on your thigh, his other hand tracing patterns on the inner skin of the other. You squirm at the feeling, your eyes pinched shut as waves of arousal roll through your body. Aaron’s dark eyes travel up the expanse of your body, seeking your face but he can only see the way your chest rises and falls with each gasping breath, your head tossed back as noises of pleasure fill the room.

His cock pulses in the tight confines of his slacks, the need to feel your wet heat wrapped around his aching member nearly driving him insane.

“Fuck, please Aaron…” You aren’t sure what you are begging for as your orgasm begins to swell under your skin, pulling your muscles taught. A part of you wants to feel embarrassed at how easily he has been able to bring you to the brink, but the sounds of his moans between your legs quickly floods the thought out.

“Cum for me baby, make a mess on my face.” It’s dirty and mind reeling all at once, your jaw going slack as your hips grind up to meet his mouth. Aaron slips two fingers to your opening, gathering the combination of slick and spit before easing into you.

A soft whimper accompanies the sudden intrusion, your hips undulating to take more of his thick digits as your orgasm creeps ever closer. He sets a steady rhythm, slow and deep that leaves stars dancing around your vision and with one final swirl of his tongue as his fingers curl into that spongy spot deep in your walls you break.

Your orgasm rips through your body like a bolt of lightening. Your limbs lock and your back bows up, your lips form a perfect ‘O’ as waves of pleasure crash over you.

“That is, that’s my good girl.” Aaron praises, keeping his pace steady as you moan his name like a prayer. It’s a few more seconds until your body collapses back onto the bed, your fingers falling from his hair taking a strand or two with them. Aaron pulls away, standing back up licking your slick from his fingers with a grumbling groan.

Climbing back up your body he creates a trail of kisses that leave you feeling hot and desperate, a distinct emptiness between your legs as he settles over you. Aaron cups the back of your head, lifting you to meet his bruising kiss. The tangy taste of yourself is heavy on his tongue as he explores your mouth, your still trembling hands finding his back and pulling him closer.

The hard ridge in his slacks presses against your heated, slick core, grinding slowly. You whimper into his mouth, hands trialing up his back, scratching at his shirt. You break away with a gasp. “To… too many clothes.” Going for the small plastic buttons Aaron lets out a soft laugh as your fumble over them.

“Easy princess. All you had to do was ask.” He sits back on his heels, your legs draped over his thighs and you watch mesmerized as his fingers easily work the buttons free, revealing his chest full of dark hair. You manage to twist your arm behind your back, freeing the clasp of your bra and quickly throwing it somewhere in the floor to join the growing pile.

Aaron groans at the sight of you, his mouth watering as he thinks of every spot he wants to cover with bites and bruises. Starting with your breasts. He leans over you, snagging your wrists and pinning them to the bed.

You bite your cheek, surprised that you welcome the weight of him above you, that you like the feeling of him pinning you down, leaving you to his mercy. You find your mind slipping more, every worried thought falling into some unreachable place that can remain in the dark.

Clearing his throat lightly, Aaron licks his lips. “Maybe I should have asked this sooner but… when was the last time you were with someone.?”

An awkward but none the less important question to ask, even if he is seated between your trembling thighs, staring down at your naked body.

A new flush spreads over your cheeks and you shift against the bed, against the hold he has on your wrists. “I… I was in high school.”

A moment of shock steals his features before he can school his face back. “Do you take birth control?”

You squirm again, chewing the inside of your cheek as his thumbs rub over your galloping pulse. “I.. Every three months I go get a shot. It’s better than taking a pill every day that I might forget.” You explain weakly, searching his face.

Aaron nods, shifting his weight on his knees, his cold belt buckle pressing into your thigh. “I can always grab a condom if that makes you feel better.” One hand leaves your wrist but you don’t dare move as he places it on your lower tummy, spreading wide. “But I have to admit, the idea of fucking you full of me is very, very exciting.” Your breath catches, eyes widening and Aaron’s grin turns devilish. “You think so too.”

All you can do is nod slightly, a thrill working through your body that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end, gooseflesh cascading over your skin.

Sitting back, Aaron releases you completely to fiddle with his belt. The brown leather hisses through the belt loops and when he stands he takes his pants and boxers down in one swoop. Your eyes instantly fall to the hard member standing up between his legs and your thighs clench.

His cock is long and thick, the dark hairs at the base trimmed neatly like the rest of him. A few veins run along his shaft, the prominent one on the underside pulsing slightly. He takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, to relieve some of the ache, the mushroom head a light shade of pink.

You whimper at the sight of him, the need in your belly almost painful. “Aaron… I want you.” Your voice is sultry, your eyes glazed over when you finally look at his face. He smiles crookedly as he slinks back onto the bed, his eyebrow cocked.

“You can have me, princess. Every part of me is yours.” The words scorch through your chest right to the very center of your soul and you find your legs falling apart, your hands still gripping the sheets above your head. “Come here.” Instead of covering you with his body, Aaron lays down beside you, turning you so you lay on your side as well.

“What?” He pulls your back flush to his chest, his hand slipping over your thigh and dragging your leg on top of his. You whimper when you feel the smooth heat of his cock glide through your wet folds, your back instinctively arching into him.

Aaron’s arm tucks under your head, his other hand free to roam your body as he rocks his hips, slipping his cock between your folds with ease, gathering your slick. “So wet baby, so ready for me aren’t you?” He breathes, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. You whine and press your head back into his shoulder, exposing your neck more. “That’s my girl. Are you going to let me mark you up? Show everyone just who you belong to?”

You nod without a thought in your head, “Y-yes… please Aaron.” He smiles against your skin before nipping the delicate area, turning the skin a deep shade of red as he closes his lips over the spot. You moan loudly, rocking your hips back against his, the steady glide of his cock bumping into your clit driving you wild.

“So fucking pretty.” He whispers and you force yourself to turn your head and look at him. When you do your heart jumps to your throat, his hooded eyes burn with lust but there’s something else swirling just below the surface, something that makes your head groggy and your body melt into his.

“You belong right here.” His voice is deep and rough and it makes your jaw slacken. Your chest squeezes, butterflies erupting in your stomach, beating at you with their wings as his hips draw back. The round head of his cock presses against your entrance, his hand tightening on your hip. “I’m going to enjoy every moment of watching you come undone for me.” He presses forward, stretching you around him and your nails dig into his forearm with a whine. Aaron’s gaze never wavers from yours, caught in the depths of your irises. “Then every moment of piecing you back together.”

Leisurely Aaron rocks his hips, slipping deeper and deeper into your wet heat. Every inch has your back arching, the ridges and bumps rubbing along your walls in the most perfect way. Your eyes slip nearly shut, your breath puffing across his pink lips and your only awareness is of Aaron. How his muscles bunch under your hand, how your body sticks to his from the heat radiating between you both, how his fingers dig into your flesh guiding your hips back to meet his as he sinks home.

Never have you felt this full, the stretch burns and it boarders on painful but you wouldn’t want it any other way. Ecstasy skirts down Aaron’s spine, making his own groan slip free and his cock twitch. You jump at the feeling, your breath wheezing in your lungs and he smiles, repeating the motion.

“Aaron… oh fuck.” It’s all you can manage, head falling back into the crevice of his shoulder, one arm wrapping up around his that pillows your head. His name is a soft, sweet beg and it has Aaron’s stoicism crumpling.

“Tell me what you need, princess. I’ll give you everything.” His breath is warm against your ear, your eyes starting to water for reasons you can’t explain the longer he stays seated inside you. His hand continuously strokes your side as you fight for your words, kisses littering your jaw as the seconds pass.

“I need… I need you to move, Aaron.”

There isn’t a chance in hell he would make you beg twice, slowly he pulls back, ensuring you feel every part of him before pushing back in. Your jaw drops, uninhibited moans falling past your lips at the steady rhythm he sets. Aaron slips his hand to your cheek, caressing you with his thumb in time to each deep thrust. “You take me so well, my cock was made just for you wasn’t it?”

It consumes your body like a wild fire, burning intense and bright, cracking through your skin which each grind of his hips. You cling to him where you can, your eyes rolling back into your skull, and he uses the opportunity to turn your face back to his. Aaron kisses you with no sense of urgency, no rush to throw you to the end, he claims your mouth the same way he claims your body; with a measure of patience and understanding that leaves you reeling.

You break away first, moaning his name and his hand travels down your neck, cupping your heavy breast as his lips find your neck. His long fingers toy with your pebbled nipple, sparks flying into your stomach with each pinch and roll. Your leg tightens around his thigh, your breath coming faster as your body arches into his touch.

“I’m… fuck I’m going to cum.” You breath into the warm air, your cunt fluttering around his cock rhythmically.

“Cum for me, take what you need and cum all over my cock.” Aaron’s rhythm doesnt falter in the slightest, the pump of his cock hard and slow hitting spots you’d never dreamt of finding. His hand leaves your breast, trailing down your stomach slowly circling your belly. You moan at the feeling, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin. “This little part right here, this part of your beautiful belly, drives me mad.” His hand presses down into your lower stomach slightly and you see stars at the sudden pressure, feeling his cock against rubbing against your muscles. “Imagining you heavy and round-.” Aaron groans as your cunt tightens, your breath uneven like the sudden stutter in your hips. “Pregnant with my baby.”

A guttural version of his name leaves your lips as you snap in two. The fire inside your body turning into an inferno, consuming you entirely as you cling helplessly to Aaron. Your head is flush with his shoulder, your foot hooked around his leg as your pussy spasms and coats his cock with cream. Aaron’s pace suddenly falters and he moans loudly, the feeling of your velvet walls clamping down around him nearly his undoing.

Slowly you drift back to yourself, gasping for air and shuddering as the aftershocks rock through you. You lick your lips, about to say anything when suddenly Aaron is pressing you forward, rolling you onto your front. He slips free of your pussy and you whimper, letting him adjust your pliant body to his needs. With your chest pressed to the bed and your ass thrust into the air Aaron groans at the sight of you. Your thighs tremble in effort to keep yourself up right, sweat gleams across your back and shoulders, flushing your skin a beautiful shade of pink. “You’re doing so good for me.” His hands graze over the globe of your ass, settling on your hips as he nudges your knees apart, adjusting your stance. You make a soft noise in your throat, fingers finding hold in the bedding. “I know baby, you’re being such a good girl though. I know you can take it, just relax for me.” Your brain hardly keeps up, picking out the important words in its state and your body melts into the mattress with a sigh. His cock aligns with your opening, teasing until you whimper, rocking back trying to impale yourself on him. Aaron smiles, sweeping your hair off of your neck and into his fist. He's gentle as he tugs at the strands, testing the waters and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"That's it baby. Just like that." He draws out the words as he sinks into your heat. The angle is so much different than before, the head of his cock rubbing along the front wall of your cunt and you gape at the sensation. Your grip tightens on the bed as his hips become flush with your ass, giving you a moment to adjust.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck." You mumble, electricity skimming up your spine as Aaron pulls back until only the tip is left.

"Beg for me." The words are a laced growl and you simper below him, the hold on your hair growing tighter.

"Please, please Aaron I want- I need you so bad. Please fuck me." You don't know where the words come from, somewhere deep and primal in your guts but they have never felt so right.

Aaron's hips snap forward, sinking into you at a punishing force and you cry into the air, the need and pleasure curling back into your stomach with a vengeance. To say Aaron is fucking you into the mattress is an understatement, the hold on your hip is bruising and the grip on your hair is punishing. The lewd sounds of sex fill the air, wet squelching as his cock sinks into you, the slap of skin against skin and the unmistakable moans of pleasure.

"Such a good. Fucking. Girl." He breathes, his body curving over your own, husky moans falling from his lips as he pounds into you. "Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so hard. Are you gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?"

Your head tips back a smile curving your lips at his praise and you nod what little you can. "Yeees! Oh god yes Aaron.” You hold onto the sheets with white knuckled force, your moans and gasps mixing with his grunts making an intoxicating song. He growls low in his chest, his teeth bared, sweat gleaming on his shoulders and forehead.

“I’m gonna cum Y/n… I’m gonna make you mine. Again.” A harsh thrust makes you keen, your head tilting back making your neck strain. “And again.” Another one leaves you gasping, your mouth falling open. “And again.”

You snap simultaneously, his hips slamming into your ass as you cry his name. His cock switches, painting your walls with ropes of milky cum, your cunt squeezing every last drop free as you shudder and collapse. Lights dance behind your lids, your orgasm moving through your body with such force you are scarcely aware of the moans falling from Aaron’s kiss bitten lips.

“Mine. My good girl, my pretty little thing.”

It takes a few more moments before Aaron is able to roll onto his back beside you, grunting slightly at the burn in his hips as you let out a soft moan, stretching out your soar muscles. Aaron pulls you into his side easily, wrapping an arm around your waist as your head finds his shoulder.

You both lay like that for several minutes, basking in the afterglow of it all as you try to catch your breaths. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your sated body, letting the euphoria and calm take the lead for a while longer.

Aaron is the first to break the soft silence. “We need to get you cleaned up.” A soft noise of protest leaves your lips, your limbs too heavy to move. A smile in his voice makes your own lips curl, “I know. But we need to. There’s going to be a lot going on tomorrow.”

With that you can’t argue, so you allowed Aaron to slip from your grip, the sound of water running in the bathroom filling the quiet. Moments later he’s back, helping you into the restroom on unsteady legs where a warm shower awaits.

When he steps in behind you, you only have a moment to be surprised before he pulls you under the stream of water. The shower is small with just enough room for the both of you, but you find no protest on your lips as Aaron begins massaging his fingers through your hair.

You sigh blissfully, letting your weight rest against his chest as he works away the agony of today, but also a little off of the mountain that has weighed you down for so long.

“I don’t care about the contact.” His deep voice is sudden making you jump slightly.

“What?”

“I don’t care about the contract.” Aaron runs his hands down to your shoulders, turning you slightly so you can gauge his face as he speaks. “I care about you, the contract was… is a piece of paper to ensure neither of us got hurt. We don’t need it.”

You scan his face, his dark eyes reading so much more than he is saying. “What… what do we do then?” Your throat works as you swallow, butterflies eating once more at your belly as Aaron cups your check.

“Whatever you would like… but… I like the idea of you coming to me with your problems, of taking care of you, of you being mine.” He curls your necklace around one of his fingers, tugging softly and a new heat flairs at the bottom of your spine. Aaron’s dark eyes scan your face, trying to read your thoughts.

“I…” You swallow, the reality hitting you. These last few days had you thrown through the wringer, forced out of your comfort zone, and brought dark secrets to light. You’ve struggled and cried and raged all while finding comfort and passion and acceptance in ways you didn’t know existed before Aaron Hotchner knocked on your door one dark morning.

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips as you run your hands up his chest, the water spilling over his shoulder and the mist sprinkling your cheeks. You press in tighter and Aaron cups the back of your head, angling it ready to capture your lips at a moment’s notice.

“I can still call you ‘Sir’?”

A large smile breaks across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he cups your face, bringing you closer. "You can call me whatever you would like, little one..." His palm slips into your wet hair, tangling his fist into the strands and giving a soft tug. "As long as I get to call you mine." He laces the word with a growl and crashes his lips to yours with surprising force, need instantly flooding out the exhaustion from your system. You gasp against his lips, whimpering a soft yes as his tongue sweeps over your own.

"Good girl."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you all so much, once again, for sticking with me through this story. This has been the most grueling, but rewarding thing I have written, and I am just astounded by the love it has received! I plan to make a few blurbs off of this story so fill free to check in ever now and again but if you would like to be tagged in future tidbits please feel free to leave a comment! 💜💜💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife @mojo366 @mrsgweasley @hotchners-wifey @lelevs @normaltuesdaynight @tgskitten @char-jlhewitt @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emobabeyy @bunbunbl0gs @turtleshavesoulmates @mrs-ssa-hotch @balariie @eveyez-exe @nachofriess @aangell333 @wisdomcrys @sabage101 @prettymothgirl

[imawitchywitch]

Here’s some tips from a trans person who moved from a red state to a blue state by myself, across the country:

Start applying for jobs in every blue state, near and far, in any field and job role you think you’d qualify for. I know this SUCKS and takes forever, but this is where you inevitably have to start.

After you have potential cities in mind and some job leads, start saving for moving expenses and researching potential apartments! If you don’t feel comfortable interviewing for an apartment from afar, there are extended stay hotels you can stay at while you solidify your search.

Get a sense of how your future state and city’s government, taxes, documentation, and healthcare works. It will be a bit different from your previous state, and you're going to have to do the whole change of address, new driver's license, new car registration switcheroo.

Have a garage sale, get rid of excess, and make your moving preparations! You can ship your stuff in a storage container or road trip it with a friend and a Uhaul.

Map your route for the trip. Break it up, book hotels, stay away from red rural stops, DO NOT stop at those trucker rest areas, and stick to busy gas stations around many businesses. Oh and find some fun and picturesque spots!

Once you’re in your new town, find some local group and event postings, maybe have a list of medical providers and car repair shops to check out, and stores you already know you enjoy in your neighborhood, and start your new life my friend!

It’s very scary right now but we have states fighting for our rights, and very few of us have the resources and contacts to even consider moving overseas. I don’t know how helpful my list is, I’ve moved states several times so it is less eventful for me, but this may be your first time considering moving!

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XII. “exceptionally qualified, equally eager”

parts: previous / next

plot: you receive both celebratory and sobering news which leaves you reeling; back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne solidifies his entrance into society.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, bad health news, cancer, chemo, grief, doctor’s office, shock

words: 2.5k

You woke up the next morning remembering the conversation with your friends, replaying in your mind. You kept thinking about how you told them you'd fucked Bruce. You wished you hadn't. It was wrong. But you were never gonna see him again, and they were never going to tell. It would be too embarrassing for them that they weren't the ones to fuck him, and would never let themselves be outdone. They'd let the world continue to believe he was a virgin before admitting you'd managed to sleep with a billionaire. Outshining them wasn't a possibility.

You swung your legs off the bed and rubbed your eyes before walking out into the hallway. It was suspiciously quiet, with the usual hum of the TV absent. You started when you turned into the kitchen to your parents holding a gift. It was a thick envelope with your name in sloping cursive, and your parents had hardly looked happier... besides when the anonymous benefactor, likely Bruce (you cringed hard at his name) has somehow managed to pay off the family's medical debt. "Here honey," your mother hurried toward you and you took the envelope. Walter ran in between your dad's legs and hopped up on the bed. You laughed and started opening it. "Even he seems excited."

Your fingers nearly cut on the thick cardstock. You pulled out a card in the shape of a graduation hat, and out fell a small slip. It twirled down and made Walter pounce, and you had a game of cat and mouse for a minute before you read the stub. Delta Airlines: SEA—GCA. You looked up but they just urged you to read the card. "Congratulations Y/N! Excited to see you walk at graduation. Love, Mom and Dad." What?? I get to walk? But how?

The next fifteen minutes indulged them explaining that they'd bought tickets last night and went to the store on the way home from their friend's barbecue. "After all the money we saved we could finally afford it. And your father picked out a beautiful hotel for us right next to the airport." The rush of positive feelings left as quickly as they came, lasting not a second longer than your parents shutting the door on their way out. A murkiness settled in your stomach. You didn't plan on ever returning to Gotham. Your parents had never been there either. You hoped you'd never have to deal with its hustle and bustle again. But you were their only child, and you were at least happy that they were happy.

Bruce sat in his wool overcoat in a small, stuffy office on a hard, narrow chair. His thighs were threatening to burst it, and the arms were cutting into his abdomen. He forced a smile to the school secretary as he waited for the university president to arrive. His eyes trailed to the cobwebs in the corner, the dusty books by the window, and eventually the stained carpeting. Our tax dollars pay for this? Alfred needs to know about this so he can get in touch with—no. He stopped himself. Those were his duties now, gone were the days of offloading all public contact to his butler while he kept to his sanctuary. Thankfully, GU's president burst through the doors at that very moment.

"Mr. Wayne! My God! Never in a million years did I think to see you in these halls." The woman was beaming, and Bruce stood up to shake her hand. Even her vigor didn't help the smile he plastered on be any less forced. "Pleasure is all mine, Ms...?"

"Janay Vry, former journalism department head." Her gray bob brushed along the tips of her shoulders. A thought sprinted across his mind. Journalism. Y/N. To bring it up or to not? "I heard you met with one of my students, Ms. Y/L/N."

She beat him to it. "Yes, I apologize. I was unreasonably busy that day. I hope she found another suitor." Y/L/N. Y/L/N. Didn’t quite fit you. It repeated in his mind like a mantra, and reminded him of combing through the commencement… She opened her mouth to speak, and his eyes snagged on an owl pin on her lapel. He'd never seen that before, and it stalled his train of thought.

"So, Mr. Wayne." Ms. Vry sat in the secretary's chair as she shuffled out, looking a bit nervous. He forced his face to remain pleasant as his mind began to investigate. Why was he drawn to that? What energy was it bringing? Did it symbolize anything? "What brings you here today?"

He sat up a bit in his chair, feeling the early stages of bruising as the wood tore at his sides. The right arm was snagging on a particularly thick scar. "Well," He never thought he would say these words, but he needed a platform. An entrance. "I know how late minute this is, so I understand if this is no possibility. I was wondering if I could be a commencement speaker for this year's ceremony." The shaky grin he mustered made him want to slam into a wall. This is so forced. Can she tell?

Ms. Vry had a visible, startled reaction to his question. "Mr. Wayne, wow," she shook her head in disbelief. "Of course, of course." Her smile could've reached her ears, and she started listing off the date, time, and gathering space for the speakers to arrive at prior to the event. "And of course we will amp up security. Yes, I'll get started on that this evening."

Bruce left the halls of GCU with a few pamphlets and a worn jaw. Smiling shouldn't hurt that much. He wondered how long he could keep this act up, and if this was all one big mistake he'd have to forever run away from. It felt like it, as his disheveled self jogged down the concrete steps to a fishbowl of citizens shouting and taking photos. Of course they found me. Christ.

He stared forward at the car, pretending no one was there. He needed this event as a more natural entrance into society. Announcing the Wayne's direct involvement in the city once again. He could imagine the headlines now and imagined how proud his parents might be of him. That was all that mattered. Continuing the Wayne legacy. Doing what my parents never could. He was doing the right thing, and he was utilizing the tools at his disposal. There were areas of society Bruce Wayne could reach that Batman could never, and vice versa. Why didn't I consider this sooner? As he sidled into the driver's seat and relaxed into the tinted windows, he remembered why. He loathed being on display.

The next few days you spent spending time with your family and journaling about losing your entire friend group. It hurt you, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. Sure, they weren't very good friends, but it was scary staring down the barrel at your only social contacts being your parents. You scrolled around on Bumble for a few hours every day until you ended up hitting a week of being home and days of the most boring conversations you'd ever endured. Your dad had ordered another celebratory pizza, but it felt less fun to not have anyone to text about it.

You still didn't have many answers about your mother's cancer. Later that day was her second chemo appointment since you'd come back, and you offered to drive your mother and take her in yourself. Your dad declined, and said the three of you could all go as a family. It was nice he wanted to stay with her, but it also meant this was more serious. He likely wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. You tried not to think about why.

Pulling up to the clinic, you told your dad to head into the room with your mom. "I'm gonna talk to the doctor for a minute." You went to the receptionist and requested Dr. Righan. The receptionist directed you to a room just down the hall. "He'll meet you in consultation."

You waited anxiously to hear how bad it was while simultaneously indulging your last moments of ignorance. Her weight loss is unrelated. Her walker and wheelchair use is unrelated. Just aging stuff. Maybe she has a bad back like grandma. Yeah, that's it. She's just doing another round of chemo for good measure.

You blinked and it was over. As you came back into your body you saw the door swinging shut behind the doctor who had just come in and delivered the news: it was worse than you thought. Your mother was starting chemo to try and buy her some time before seeing if she got accepted into this clinical trial. "Your mother is exceptionally qualified, and equally eager," the graying man in the white coat had said. "Unfortunately, everyone else is too."

The drive home had you in a haze. Your parents were in the front seats still gushing over how they didn't have to pay at the end of the session, but you couldn't pay attention. The clinical trial roulette was a month from today; in the world's most desperate game of Bingo, random names would be drawn. Half would be assigned a control, half would be assigned the medicine. You couldn't bear the thought of her getting a placebo, but you couldn't bear the thought of her not getting in at all. The doctor had tried to taper her excitement, letting her know most people were not going to be picked. It stung, and left you in a haze for the rest of the night.

At about nine in the evening your dad went for a quick stop at the grocery store. He peeked his head in your room where you sat at your desk, furiously journaling, and asked if you wanted anything. Saying no, he left with an announcement he wouldn't be more than 15 minutes. Finally alone in the house with your mother practically since her initial diagnosis, you wandered to the living room where she sat in a large rocking chair, tucked into an enormous throw blanket. She smiled when you sunk into the couch beside her. "Are you excited to go to graduation?"

No. I'm not excited about anything. I want you to not be sick. "Yeah! It's really exciting, it'll be fun to be back." Your smile was fake as plastic. What if this was the last family trip? The last time on an airplane together? You wanted to go to Fiji, with the white sand and warm water for her to sink into. Paradise, not Gotham. She was genuinely excited however. "Oh I can't wait for you to walk across that stage. Your father is going to cry buckets. Buckets!"

That night you sat at your desk and scribbled more in your journal, now on your twentieth page. Why does she have to be sick. Why does it have to be so bad? Why do I have to go back to Gotham? Gotham. Bruce. I hope he doesn't find me. Maybe he will. He seems to get out more now, more likelihood to see him... ugh. Not the time. And the money thing. How do I bring that up? I don't even know if it was him. Maybe it was Alfred. I don't know. Ugh. How am I even gonna walk in my heels? I don't really want to wear sneakers. Maybe I should? Maybe I should just be myself, and stop trying to fit in? Who cares what I wear to my own graduation? Shouldn't I only care about my own opinion? My head is swirling. Graduation is so soon. You decided to stop writing, since it was getting nowhere. Just jotting down the myriad of thoughts clanking around your skull, and it was keeping you up. The next few days were job hunting, and you needed to look adequately rested... even if it was the last thing you were truly feeling.

No. No. And more no. Every business within a thirty mile radius hadn't even accepted a resume. It hadn't been this way before you left for Gotham a few years back. Your parents were all happy little birds back at home, basking in the glory of having their medical debt paid. "You don't have to worry about getting a job right now hun," your dad had said a few days prior. "Let yourself relax." But you couldn't. Having the money burden gone was a massive relief, sure, but it was a material thing, and you were grappling with potentially having to lose someone. A parent. A mother. There was hardly space for rejoicing.

The morning of graduation you'd forgotten all about it, being woken at four in the morning to head to the airport. The time difference, shit. Your mother's friend from church was dropping you all off, babbling on and on about the local gossip. "And oh my stars, you just wouldn't believe the old Scott girl. Baby number two. With TWO fathers!" You attempted to drown her out via some self-soothing humming, which only drew the attention to you. "And you missy! Why, you're not twenty-six without a ring on your finger! Meet anyone in..." she paused and visibly shuddered, spitting out the word Gotham to finish her pestering. You suppressed an eyeroll. Gotham would eat her alive.

You successfully dodged succeeding questions and found yourself at arrivals. Your parents had a fast-pass through TSA, making boarding surprisingly pleasant. You sat between your mom and dad, trying not to think about landing in a city you thought you'd left far behind.

"Good afternoon passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We are pulling into the terminal in approximately three minutes, so please prepare for landing. Weather is partly-cloudy, with a high of sixty degrees. It is 3pm local time. Thank you for flying with Delta Airlines." Your dad awoke with a strong snore, your mom rustling in her light sleep. "Oh my, already?" She yawned, rolling up her knit blanket into her carry on. "Honey, do they have the wheelchair ready?"

Wheelchair? You still weren't used to it. Wheelchairs aren't bad, you reminded. They're accessible. They help. It doesn't mean she's gonna drop dead tomorrow. Soon enough your dad was helping her into a cab while you wrestled with her chair and the luggage in the backseat of the accessible Uber. The smell stung your nostrils, the familiar taste of copper. The streets were mostly dry, as dry as they could ever get in the city. As you climbed into the passenger seat you briefly thought of the taut leather binding trimming Bruce's car's interior. Stop it. He doesn't exist.

[werepuppy-steve]

january fic rec

so i figured that instead of waiting until december to make a big long post of all the fics i read throughout the year, i'd break it down into monthly recs instead. i barely read anything at all last year, and it makes me feel awful every time i think about it, so hopefully this method keeps me on track so i can make some headway on the hoard of fics i have saved.

this also helps to boost fics that might've been missed or overlooked in the chaos and carnage brought by the passage of time.

these will include tumblr fics as well as ao3 fics!

general warning: smut will be included in these so please read at your own discretion and heed any warnings and tags!

▸ january fic rec - b sides

break the ice (i can't take anymore) - T, 2.2k, complete @matchingbatbites

tags: hockey au, established relationship, shower sex, secret relationship

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Steve says as he leans into Eddie’s creeping touch, the little bit of contact more of a tease than anything. “Thought you’d be back at the hotel by now.” Eddie grins up at Steve and tugs him closer. “And miss the chance to congratulate you properly? To show you how proud I am of you?” Steve full on shudders at that, his mouth drops in a soft gasp and his hands push up into Eddie’s hair. “Eddie…” “I am, Stevie. So proud of you, my baby.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s jersey-covered sternum. “Tell me what you want, princess. Anything, and it’s yours.”

what's mine is yours (to leave or take) - M, 8.2k, complete @thefreakandthehair | througheden

tags: modern au, baker eddie, nurse steve, waitress-inspired, getting together

Eddie's an amateur baker who desperately needs a healthy dose of hope. He finds it in the bottom of a pie dish and the hands of Steve Harrington.

Tax Time - T, 922, complete @simplebtromance

tags: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, competence kink, appalachian eddie

Eddie throwing his hair back into a hair clip he stole from Chrissy, face determined as he opened up his laptop on their coffee table, that used to be his Memaw's, and got the binder of bills and receipts out to do his and Steve's taxes. (He still feels gooey and not very metal when he sees Steve Munson on any paperwork or mail, they've been married for over 3 years now and he doesn't think it's gonna stop any time soon)

group hangout - E, 3.3k, complete plutorose

tags: modern au, college au, dom/sub, first time

When Steve and Eddie start seeing each other, Robin meets Eddie's roommate for the first time.

A Little Show - E, 4.1k, complete ItCanBePalped

tags: exhibitionism, pre-threesome, dom/sub

Chrissy and Robin can't wait to get their hands on each other. Unfortunately, the room they find is already occupied. Or maybe that's "fortunately".

BABY SAID - E, 3.8k, complete dartlekey

tags: t4t steddie, transmasc eddie, transmasc steve, college au, bathtub sex, scissoring

Drenched by a sudden downpour and locked out of the youth hostel they were supposed to be staying at, university students Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson find themselves unwittingly and very much against their will trapped in night-time Rome together, and sharing a cramped hotel room. And a bathtub. Things kind of escalate from there.

Love from the other side - M, 6.2k, complete @sidekick-hero

tags: modern au, nurse steve, vampire eddie

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows. Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life. Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently. Eddie wants his blood.

the devil's water, it ain't so sweet - E, WIP hesjustlikemefr

tags: modern au, sugar daddy eddie, sugar baby steve, transmasc steve, slowburn, age difference

After Steve's parents cut him off financially, Robin comes up with a brilliant plan for Steve to be able to pay his bills. SweetShoppe, the most professional sugaring app on the market. Steve is skeptical, until he comes across the profile of Eddie Munson, a music producer and the hottest guy Steve has ever seen. Maybe this wasn't the worst idea after all…

like rabbits - E, WIP crybaby

tags: alpha eddie, omega steve, daddy kink, dom/sub, established relationship, pussy drunk eddie

Steve shaves his pussy and dresses up as a Playboy Bunny. Eddie handles it well.

usa hockey is do or die - E, 4k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: hockey au, dom/sub, established relationship

“Everyone expects a lot from Team USA captain Steve Harrington and his first alternate, Tommy Hagan, but everyone’s a bit shocked at the choice for second alternate. What do you have to say about Eddie Munson being the pick, Jack?” Steve already felt anger bubbling under his skin, the annoyance of the last few weeks finally reaching a boiling point. “Well, we all know he’s one of the best goalies out there, but it’s rare to see a goalie with an A or C. I’ll be honest, I was surprised he was chosen over Gareth Emerson, who showed us three shutouts in the last month at Boston University. Eddie’s been proving himself in the AHL, but I don’t think he’s got what it takes to get the boys to gold. I hope I’m proven wrong, but his careless attitude makes me think he isn’t leading these boys to a victory they want.” The tv in the hotel room snapped off and Steve stood up, pacing the carpeted floors with his fists clenched at his sides and a scowl.

driver roll up the partition please - E, 4.5k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, bartender steve, semi-public sex, light dom/sub

The bow tie around Steve’s neck was choking him. It had to be made for children, but when he’d asked one of the waiters before they went on the floor, he shrugged and said they all were like that. But the lack of oxygen to his brain didn’t excuse the way he nearly dropped a glass of a half-shaken, half-stirred -yes, really- martini when the hottest man he’d ever seen walked up to the bar. He was chatting with a few people, smiling at them like he was truly happy to see them even though he was dressed like someone who was crashing the party. Steve had done a few events like this before and was never disappointed with the eye candy, but this guy was something else. His curls were perfectly maintained, falling just right along his shoulders. Did they say the hair was the curtain to the soul or was he just that enamored?

steve tells eddie about his fight with billy - T, 4.6k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: post-s2, canon racism and violence, mentions of drug use

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now. “That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

doesn't have to be anything, but i could be everything - E, 4.1k, complete | part 2 @steddieas-shegoes

tags: camboy steve, rockstar eddie, modern au, daddy kink, dom/sub

Steve being a content creator ( cosplay, streamer, YouTuber, onlyfans, webcam boy, illustrator anything in that ballpark) that keeps on getting these messages and blocks them only to be accosted at a convention by this person and Eddie being a low key fan or what ever randomly stepping up to help out

first kiss - T, complete @mcdynamite

tags: first kiss, pet names, getting together, fluff

Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest. It’s just not really something he’s ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he’s locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It’s never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It’s just a way to be closer to someone, and it’s nice, but it’s never anything more than that. Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

Good Morning, Daddy - E, 906, complete unholy_forest

tags: dom/sub, morning sex, daddy kink

A short and sweet oneshot of loving, sleepy morning sex between Steve and Eddie.

girls of your dreams (you know what i mean) - E, 2/2, complete @maxineholtzmann

tags: figure skating au, hockey au, threesome, established ronance

The two of them continued, kissing quietly. Chrissy wondered how far she could let this go before they realized she was awake. She ached to touch herself, listening to the panting and low moans now coming from the other bed. Fuck it. Chrissy rolled onto her back and Robin and Nancy froze. She looked over at them, Robin on top of Nancy, pinning her hands above her head. The kissing sounds Chrissy had heard were clearly actually Robin working on Nancy’s nipples with her mouth–both of the cups of the negligee had been pulled down leaving breasts exposed. Chrissy sighed. Slowly moving her hand down her body between her legs she said, “You don’t have to stop as long as I don’t have to stop.” Chrissy started circling her clit with her fingers, arching her back. “Are you sure?” Nancy asked, still panting. “Does it look like I’m not sure?” Chrissy said, using her other hand to fling the blankets back, spreading her legs and making sure Robin and Nancy could see where her hand had traveled.

Your Love Calls Me Home - T, 1.8k, complete @simplebtromance

tags: modern au, long distance relationship, online dating

Steve and Eddie have been in a long distance relationship for three years, and they're finally meeting.

Buckingham revenge program™ - E, series, WIP thequeermoon

tags: oral sex, strap-on sex, dirty talk, semi-public sex

It was all murmurs and unsteady breaths between them, and they barely touched. Outside the door the group laughed suddenly, startling the both of them. Just then they realized how close they were. Just a little step and their bodies would've touched. "Right, okay… " Robin coughed a bit, going slightly backwards. " …do you want to-" She didn’t get to finish that sentence. Chrissy, in full panic of losing the only chance she might have, threw herself at her lips, kissing her. It lasted so little that Robin had no chance to answer it, but it felt like eons. Chrissy opened her eyes, watching at her. Her cold hands on her face, her lips red, slightly parted to show these little teeth Robin thought were so endearing.

Swift Wings and a Brave Heart - T, WIP @paperbackribs

tags: werewolf steve, bat eddie, shapeshifting, found family

The beast stops, gaze narrowing at the pulse pounding in Eddie’s neck, and he quickly slaps a hand over it, trying to limit the temptation of the tasty-blood slash fresh-meat vibe he must be giving off. Robin scowls at Eddie, stepping forward to bury her hand comfortingly into the plush of its furry neck. “Don’t listen to him, Steve. He’s just being a big baby." Eddie has never been a normal type of guy, but he's owned it: he's a gay metalhead in the heart of small-town America and nothing's going to phase him. Nothing except being told that his recent demo-bat injuries might turn him into a shapeshifter like Steve Harrington.

safe and warm - E, 958, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: dom/sub, cock warming, pet names, coming untouched

Steve on his knees was a sight he would never get tired of. Something about the way his eyes closed, a rare sign of relaxation spreading over him, made Eddie wish he could be like this all the time, that they could always be like this.

new year's kiss - G, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: new year's eve kiss, getting together, pining

He hides in the bathroom, looks at his reflection in the mirror and tries to smile. He used to be so confident, used to be able to tell himself to make a move and make it successfully. But it used to not matter, not like this does. No one has ever mattered the way Eddie does.

first choice - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: nye, getting together, pining

Steve runs a hand through his hair and turns back to his abandoned stack of tapes only to turn back around as soon as the bell above the door rings. He turns around with a heavy sigh as soon as he realizes who it is. "Great to see you too," Eddie says with a humorless laugh. Robin cuts in before Steve can. "Don't take it personally. He's just unsuccessful in his mission to woo a lady and get a New Year's kiss." "Really?" Eddie asks, leaning across the counter. "I think I'm coming across as desperate." "Because you are," Robin adds unhelpfully.

holes on the house - M, 404, complete @cranberrymoons

tags: modern au, meet cute, food truck owner steve

There it is: a bright pink truck with an open side, glittering under the streetlight with a loose line of people waiting to order, The Hole printed on the side in white stylized script.

alpha/omega true mates - G, complete @stevieschrodinger

tags: omegaverse, alpha eddie, omega steve, true mates, canon divergence

Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington. Eddie burns the envelope.

henderfam - G, complete @loveinhawkins

tags: canon divergence, eddie lives, steve and dustin behaving like brothers, pre-steddie

God, I love you, Eddie thinks. Maybe some would say that’s too big a declaration to have even in his own head for a mundane, sleep deprived afternoon in hospital. He doesn’t care.

play nice - M, 387, complete @wormdebut

tags: daddy kink, dom/sub, possessive eddie

Eddie has died and gone to Heaven. (If that Heaven is covered in leather and latex…that’s his business.) This is the only explanation, he thinks, as he stares at his boyfriend. His very hot, very muscular, very unclothed boyfriend. Decked out in only a strappy harness and the sluttiest little leather shorts Eddie has ever seen.

need - E, 404, complete @wormdebut

tags: dom/sub, anal fingering, hot boys whimpering

His eyes flick all over Steve’s perfect fucking body, stopping to admire that beautiful cock. “Christ—I’m gonna tear you apart.” His eyes snap up to look into Steve’s perfect blown out ones. He’s perfect, Eddie’s boy.

bake off - G, complete @hairmetal666

tags: gbbo au, baker steve, rockstar eddie, tv host eddie

Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce. His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

talk it through - G, complete @strangersteddierthings

tags: established relationship, insecurities, future fic

“I think we should break up,” is what Eddie blurts the moment Steve opens the front door to reveal him. Steve’s first reaction is anger -how dare he?- but he doesn’t do anything with that anger. Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, crosses his arms, and looks Eddie over. He’s breathing heavily yet his van is parked along the curb. He didn’t run here. His hair, while never tame, looks rougher. He is fidgeting but in a nervous way, not his usual too much energy way. His eyes are wide and scared. It’s the last bit there that drains Steve’s anger. Something’s happened. He drops his arms and says, “well, you’re not dumping me on my porch. Get in here.”

frat steve - G, complete @strangersatellites

tags: college au, established relationship, frat steve

when he gets there he’s met with two guys, freshman surely. letters emblazoned across their cutoff muscle tees and hats turned backwards and perched, very stupidly if eddie shares his piece, atop their heads. they stop him with a hand up and friendly smiles and mock bravado “three actives,” bro number one states. eddie barely holds back an incredulous laugh. “you cannot be serious.”

flirting - T, complete @jewishrat420

tags: pining, pet names, flirting, "first of all my name is baby so jot that down"

"Don't call me that." He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally. "Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?" Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

kink discovery - M, complete @eddywoww

tags: hair pulling, dom/sub, getting together

He touches him the second time. When they’re all hanging out and the lights are low and Steve does it again and Robin only halfway gives him a weird look. It doesn’t stop Steve form blinking tired eyes up at Eddie, watching the way he gulps and hovers a hand over Steve’s face. “I like when people pet my hair,” He says unhelpfully, so high he can barely concentrate. Eddie makes a soft noise and blinks down at him. “You should- you should do that.”

cherry - M, complete @eddywoww

tags: omegaverse, tattoo artist eddie, alpha eddie, omega steve, age difference

And then he gets into Eddie’s studio and like- okay, Steve has always had a type. Older men, men who wore suits, men who worked with his father. Unattainable, already mated. Steve sort of assumes this guy is mated too. He looks like it, has a bite that’s weirdly faded on his neck. But Steve can’t smell an Omega on him. Or a Beta or an Alpha. No one. So sue him if he gets a little flirty. It fuels his self esteem, knowing they can look but he won’t let them touch.

eddie lives - T, complete @bonitabreezy

tags: canon divergence, steve carries eddie out of the upside down, eddie lives (but not without consequence)

Any part of him that had leaned into the idea that it was over and that they were safe was immediately washed away at the sound. His blood started to zing with adrenaline once more and he became hyper aware of everything around them, scanning the trees for danger. “Was that--” Nancy started, her shoulders a hard line, her hands no longer shaking. “Dustin,” Steve said, and he took off running.

4+1 - G, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: 5+1, steve carries eddie, eddie carries steve, eddie recovering from the bites

four times eddie gets carried and one time he does the carrying

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[synthetictorque]

Hi, I’m a housekeeper. I’ve seen plenty of nicely left rooms, and some utter messes that made me almost cry. For the most part, people are super well behaved and I thank you for that.

However, this job is really taxing. I enjoy it, but a lot of housekeepers are usually quite young or they are older, which can be a lot of pressure on them for health and mental reasons. I’ve had to start using braces on occasion.

It’s a difficult job no matter where you go- and one rule I live by is don’t do what I wouldn’t like to clean up. So here are some things you could try to do, and make a hard job a little easier. Please consider re-blogging this so that others can try to help out too!

STRIP LINEN It saves water, but also it saves time for us too if you strip the linen off anything you’ve touched and leave the stuff you haven’t alone. Towels can be reused, but I would leave a note for the housekeeper to alert them.

ROOM CLEANING Most hotels can offer room service, however, in my hotel this can be added on to 10 rooms already. If you don’t need it, please make it known at the front desk or leave a ‘do not disturb’ sign. If you really need it, make sure you move your stuff off what needs cleaning as we cannot touch it.

TIPS Optional, but after cleaning a room with four kids and yogurt in the tea and coffee bowl, it is nice to see a little tip. I personally will take sealed consumable items like soap or once, a whole box of tea. It’s not much, but it has knocked our toiletries cost way down.

BIG BINS If your bins are full, and you know you’re going to have more rubbish, ask for a large bin bag. We have those. You don’t have to break the rubbish bag because you needed to stuff it in.

CUPS, MUGS AND CUTLERY If you have taken food up to your room, if you have a drink from the bar or glass bottles, if you have dirty mugs- consider who has to take those back. If you have time take your things back to where they came from and try to reuse the mugs and cups.

AND FINALLY, KNOW THE CHECKOUT TIME In our hotel, final checkout time is 12. Please go to the front desk even if you have a card box outside your room, and try to be packed and leave as early as you can. I’ve had days where I have 6 rooms, but no one leaves until 12 and I end up working overtime to finish. Check in time is 3 for me, and having guests want rooms while you’re rushing to catch up can make me incredibly stressed.

These aren’t all going to be doable, or present, but please, please PLEASE consider doing one or more of these for us. Any housekeeper will tell you a clean room can make the last bad room seem far away.

Thank you for your consideration and kindness!

[kydrogendragon]

Relationship: Dream/Hob, Johanna/Rachel

Rating: Gen

Words: 1356

Warnings: None

Ao3 Link

For square D1 of the Dreamling Bingo. Masterlist can be found here.

"Now boarding group three at Gate B12. Please have your boarding passes ready." The announcement clicks off and Johanna stands up, carry-on rolling over the airport linoleum as she walks. She nods to the attendant, readily handing over her boarding pass with a sigh. People slowly filter into the plane, the flight attendants greeting each person with a nod and a hello. Already she's transferred over from the three and a half hour flight from Los Angeles and the two hour hop from Atlanta to New York. And now she's preparing herself mentally for the long flight back to London. And she didn't get paid enough for business class either. After going above and beyond for those Hollywood snobs.

Fuckers.

She shuffles through the narrow hallways into the middle of the giant 787. The overhead compartments are already starting to fill up, but thankfully there's still some room above her seat. Johanna stashes her bag up onto the shelf and slides into the ever-shrinking airline seat.

There's a middle-aged man to the right by the window and, with luck, the seat by her will stay empty like it was when she checked-in so she can scoot over.

She watches and waits, letting her eyes rest as the rest of the plane slowly boards and settles in. Unfortunately, someone slides in on the aisle seat, so she's wedged in the middle. Odds are she'll be sleeping the whole way through. Should be any moment now before they start taxing and then she can—

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize in advance but it looks like we'll be experiencing a brief delay before taking off. Thank you for your patience."

Motherfucker.

Johanna groans, rubbing her eyes as a slow grumble rolls through the rest of the plane. Christ above, she hopes it's just a simple five, maybe ten, minute delay. Knowing her luck so far though? She'll be here, crowded between two strangers, for an additional hour.

Shaking her head, she pulls her phone out and plops her ear buds in. She scrolls through her music as the man beside her pulls out his tablet. It's bright and there's no privacy screen on it at all, so when he pulls up his email—an in-progress one too—it's clear as day from her seat so you know she's gonna read that shit. Might even be entertaining.

"Dear Dream," it reads. This is already great. Dude's got a penpal with a killer nickname. "All stories return to their original forms, right? You know, when I first landed there in Los Angeles, I thought for sure the week would just drag on and on, like all the other business trips would. Thought maybe I would liven things up with trying some new sushi joint since there always seems to be a new one each time I go.

But then I saw you. You, standing in the lobby of the same hotel I was staying at. Of all the hotels in LA. What were the odds? I'd heard you'd moved down there with Calliope all those years ago. Wasn't sure if you were still there, though. Would it be bad if I said I always hoped you were? So something like this might happen?

God, I just wish I had run into you the first day I landed and not with just three days left. It wasn't enough. It's never enough. This damn trip was for business as you knew. Filled most of my days with meetings and hours in the office. I'd gotten used to it after all these years. Even all the time on planes and trains I'd gotten used to. But this time, I don't think I'm ready to head back to London.

Dream...I'd rather be off this plane and back on your doorstep, back in your home. Back to hearing your voice and seeing your smile. But I don't think that's what you'd want. You'd said so once before when I tried to offer it to you. Threw it back in my face and then I never saw you again until today, ten years later.

Do I pretend I don't still love you? Do I push you away instead? Like you had me? To save my heart? I said a lot of things those days and none of them were what I meant. Not truly. Not fully.

Maybe I should just let things be and give you your space. I just got you back. Even just if it's as distant friends. So...it was good to see you, Dream. I wish you the best.

- Hob"

Jo can tell by the abuse of the backspace key that there's a heart balanced on how his words are perceived. The man—Hob— has typed that fourth paragraph there four times now in the ten minutes that they've been sitting here. He finally lands on a version devoid of all passion, all longing. Until it's pared down to just a basic "Good to see you again, let me know when you're in town! We'll have to meet up" type email. Even she, one who knows well the risks love poses, feels a bit sad at that.

She tilts away, her heart sinks in her chest. You'd think, by the time you start showing gray in your hair you stopped dealing with this kind of shit. This...hurt. The uncertainty and not knowing which way to move, what to say, or what to do. Jo hoped that by the time you get through your twenties, things like that would be old news.

She would have thought that kind of heartache was meant for the young, but you're never too old to hurt, it seems.

Doesn't bode great for her. Her mind wanders to Rachel. To all the things she should have said. To everything she did say instead. She should call her when they land. She owes her that at least.

"Alrighty there passengers. We've been cleared for taxi. Please buckle your seatbelts and put your phones and other electronic devices away and in airplane mode. Thank you for flying United. Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for takeoff."

The man beside her hits send and turns his tablet off, stowing it in the mesh pouch on the seat in front of him. He settles into his seat and closes his eyes. Jo can't help but feel a twinge of pain for the passion that this Dream might never know.

Johanna passes out shortly after the plane takes off and thanks whatever gods are listening that she wakes up as the plane begins its descent. Might be the longest she's ever slept in the past month if she's honest.

The man with the broken heart beside her flutters to life as the wheels touch down on the tarmac. He stifles a yawn and rubs his eyes before beginning the process of putting his belongings back into their rightful homes.

It's raining outside. Classic London. At least she knows she's home.

The plane comes to a stop. The pilot sends them off with a farewell and a thank you. People stand, shuffling about, claiming their bags and suitcases. And eventually everyone leaves the craft.

Hob follows the crowd as they all make their way to the baggage claim. She wonders, as she watches him from the back of the pack, what Dream's answer will be, why this Hob kept his cards so close to his chest that even he couldn't read them. What was it about their history, their meeting in LA that gave him such pause when he so clearly wanted to tell Dream all the emotions he kept bottled down.

She might never know. Odds are she won't ever see this man again. London's a big city, after all. She supposes in the end, it doesn't matter too much the why of it all. She'll never know why he kept the honest truth from the other guy, but maybe she can learn a bit from it. Maybe she can still save things with Rachel.

But Dream, if you're out there, just know this: in the rough draft he loved you.

[hotelpropertytaxes]

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