#I have written down every prompt and marked each one I wanted to do and it happened that today was the 16th!

[ifindus]

cw: gore

"Division of territories", day 16 of @propagandistisk's hetalia goretober 2023 ✨

This is of course a reference to the wars between Scandi bros in the 1600s; more specifically the outcome of the wars predating the Treaty of Roskilde in 1658. The Treaty of Roskilde saw the entirety of Trøndelag (central Norway) given up to Sweden, and the region would be Swedish for two years until Trøndelag became Norwegian again in 1660 after another treaty. The treatment of trøndere during these two years has been referred to as the genocide of Trøndelag by local historians due to the large prescription of trøndish men to the Swedish army. It almost emptied the region of men overall and the large farmland region suffered greatly as many of the men were already overseas and fighting in the Danish-Norwegian army. The trøndish men in the Swedish army were then sent abroad to fight wars as the Swedish King was afraid they would rebel if left close to home. Only one third of the men would return to their homes, which by then would be plagued by famine.

The Swedes wanted Trøndelag because then they would effectively divide Norway into two parts, separated at the middle, and easier to attack in the future.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Soulmate | Word Count: 3420 | Rating: E | CW: Language, Sexual Content, Male Titty Fucking | POV: Eddie | Tags: Soulmate AU, College AU, Modern AU, Meet Cute, Or: Meet Ugly, Soulmarks, Invisible Strings, Hijinks Ensue, The Universe Had to Work Overtime on These Two, Matching Each Other's Freak

I actually got assigned the prompt "soulmates" on both the Christmas and New Year's bingo cards. Instead of trying to double-up, I decided to just make them companion pieces. Here are the links to both:

Part 1: Steve POV | Part 2: Eddie POV | Also on AO3

They are intended so they could be read standalone, but I wrote Steve's first, so I say go back and start there if you'd like to read both.

Eddie wears it like a badge of honor. He wishes it was scrawled across his forehead instead of his arm. Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker! is a damn good soulmark, if he doesn't say so himself.

Feisty. He likes that. 

He hasn't met him, or her, yet. He's not picky, never has been. 

Eddie rolls up his sleeves, and the mark is dark black, prominent. Like the freshest, newest tattoo. And he knows tattoos. He's got some good ones, and some bad ones, but this right here is his favorite and he didn't even get to choose it. It just showed up one day, a promise of who was to come.

They have nice handwriting, whoever they are. He's always thought so. He brushes it with his thumb. He just wonders when he's finally going to get to meet them. 

It wasn't in high school, not during any of the three senior years he had. He kind of thought that was why he kept sticking around, like he was just waiting for them to round a corner.

They never did.

Now, he's a senior in college on schedule to graduate in one go, thank you very much, and still nothing. Nada. Zilch. 

Oh well. It'll happen, or it won't. 

"You about done primping your hair or what?" Jeff yells from down the hall, and Eddie laughs. Jeff wanted to go to the big frat party on campus tonight and Eddie definitely wasn't opposed. He can probably off-load some weed, make a little extra cash, so sure, why not? 

Eddie settles onto the couch where he usually does his business. Right out in the open. He's the one to be feared, not the other way around. Gareth is next to him, yapping about some movie that they watched in his film class last night. Eddie's slightly interested. Playing chess against death for your soul? That does sound like something he'd like.

His arm itches. He looks down to scratch at it, right over his soulmark. This couch had better not have fucking bed bugs.

"Oh shit, Goodie's fighting with some frat boy," Gareth announces, sitting up to lean closer to the action, and Eddie looks up.

And Goodie most certainly is doing just that. 

Goodie just shoved a guy, and Eddie has about two seconds to open his arms to catch the cussing heap of a man as he slides across the coffee table, knocking Eddie's lunch box of inventory, and every goddamn drink, onto the ground. Not cool. 

What the fuck is Goodie doing? Yeah, he got the first cheap shot off, but this guy isn't small, and Goodie's definitely gonna get them all into a brawl if this dude has friends. Still, Eddie can't help but laugh, and he yells at Goodie, "You're a fucking dickhead!"  

He shifts the guy over onto Gareth, who makes an oomph sound like he's a delicate flower, as Eddie hops up to try and get this straightened out before it progresses into an actual problem.

Eddie slides his arm around Goodie's neck, and tucks him into his side in a headlock. Goodie lets him, laughing.

"What the fuck, Goods? You just laid that poor guy out, say you're sorry," Eddie demands, looking back at the pretty, if very confused guy still sitting on Gareth who has his hands up in the air, like he's being accused of a crime.

"I'm sorry," Goodie laughs, hand finding Eddie's side, and Eddie damn well knows he's positioning himself to get out this headlock if he needs to, "It was an instinct! A remnant from high school. Get bullied, push back, that's what you always said!"

Eddie turns back to look at the guy. If he really was picking on Goodie, there's gonna be a problem here, "He was bullying you?"

"I was not!" the guy yells. 

"He stepped on my foot!" Goodie clarifies, and Eddie laughs. Stepping on a foot is not bullying. It's an accident.

"He stepped on your foot, so you shoved him in my lap?" Eddie asks, making sure he's got this right.

Goodie huffs, "Well, I didn't think you'd mind!"

It was a nice gift, but still, Goodie's gonna get them in real trouble one of these days if his temper can't be, well, tempered.

"What's going on here?! I just went to the bathroom, there wasn't even a line!" a girl shows up shouting, hopping mad. "Now Steve is sitting in Gareth's lap? How do you know Gareth? You can't sleep with Gareth!"

She's rambling, hands waving in the air.

How do you know Gareth? Eddie thinks. He's never seen either of these two people in his life.

"I'm fine. We're fine, I think?" the guy says, but he doesn't sound sure about that. Eddie's sure. He's fine. He's definitely fine. In more ways than one. Goodie's not gonna do shit. None of them are. "I'm not sleeping with Gareth?" he adds, and Eddie's also sure about that. Gareth's not into men. 

This was just a misunderstanding. A comedy of errors.

Eddie's life, in a nutshell. 

"Not a question. Absolutely not. No offense," Gareth says, and well, that's his loss. Eddie would definitely take one for the team.

But he can't resist. 

"Look what you've done, now you've made his girlfriend mad," Eddie teases, still not releasing Goodie from his grasp. He deserves a little more torture. 

"Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend," the girl says, like she's absolutely disgusted by this idea. Has she not seen that guy? 

"She's a lesbian," Gareth says. And oh, that'll do it. Mystery solved. If neither of them want to sleep with this guy, Eddie will volunteer.

"Don't be so disgusted," the guy with the good hair and bitchy face complains. "I'm a catch."

That he most certainly is. Eddie caught him, if only briefly, and if he can reel him back in, he'll definitely be doing that.

"Do you still have a dick?" the girl asks, snippy.

"I still have a dick," he confirms quietly, and they're bantering. Eddie likes them. Likes this show he's unexpectedly been invited to watch.

"What she said," Gareth pipes up.

And Eddie definitely likes that this handsome devil has a dick. Eddie would like to be introduced to it, up close and personal, post-haste. 

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Eddie says, finally letting Goodie stand up. Goodie shrugs, trying to get re-situated, and Eddie pats him on the back.

Jeff comes back, having missed the whole altercation, "What's going on?"

Then it turns out the girl, Robin apparently, knows all of his friends. And that is just an unfair and unjust world. 

Gareth seems determined to get Jeff caught up on all the action he missed, "Oh, Jeff, you picked the exact worst time to wander off. Short story: Goodie pushed this guy—"

"Goodie's here, too?" Robin says, like she hadn't even noticed him.

Gareth keeps talking, but what else is new, he's always talking, "—and get this, turns out, this dude is Eddie's soulmate."

Wait, what?

Eddie turns his head, eyes darting between Gareth and the very pretty man that looks like a deer caught in headlights, "What'd you say? Gareth, why do you think…" he trails off, and then looks down at his arm.

"You're Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker?" Jeff cuts in, beating Eddie to the punch. Well, he might not have asked it like that, but the guy laughs.

"Well, I prefer Steve, but I'll answer to anything, I guess."

Steve. His soulmate's name is Steve.

That's officially his favorite name ever, now.

"Jeff, help me. Eddie tried to take my head off my neck," Goodie complains, and while Jeff will take Goodie's side, he's not gonna come in hot at Eddie, even if Goodie is angling for it.

"You pushed my soulmate. You got off easy, my child," Eddie banters back, circling Goodie, like he's sizing him up. Pushing at his chest, and Goodie laughs, batting his hands away.

"Let me see," Steve says quietly.

Eddie stops in his tracks. He knows exactly what Steve wants to see. Eddie walks over to him, and offers up his forearm:

Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!

The words, Steve's words, have finally been said. They're right here on Eddie's skin in Steve's messy cursive scrawl. 

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's mark, and Eddie feels a jolt go up his spine, as he goes half-hard in his jeans, immediately.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers, he's never reacted to anyone like that.

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

They've got to leave here before he does something embarrassing in front of all his friends and a house party full of strangers.

"Wanna get out of here?" Eddie asks, and Steve is nodding before Eddie's even done asking. 

Back in Eddie's room, Eddie keeps running his hands over every inch of skin he can. All those moles and freckles. He's gorgeous.

This was the man made just for him?

He's never been that lucky a day in his life.

"You said it, and I missed it. Can you say it again?" Eddie asks, hand tangled in Steve's hair, pulling his mouth closer, so he can brush his lips against Steve's.

"Say what?" Steve asks, eyes glazed over. Nobody told Eddie meeting your soulmate would be such horny business. They've been touching, and rubbing all over each other for what has to be hours at this point.

"The words, your words," Eddie says, and Steve has to take Eddie's arm into his hand, looking like he's double-checking what he even said.

"Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!" Steve pops off, laughing as he says it, and Eddie giggles with delight, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

"You're a fucking dickhead," Eddie says back with affection, and Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's back and pulls him tight. 

Eddie can't believe he finally met him, and he's this gorgeous. Way out of Eddie's league, but Steve seems just as happy to be here as Eddie is, which, hot fucking damn.

He just wants to touch him everywhere, wants to see every inch of his body, wants to worship him now that he's finally here. 

Stripped down and bare, Eddie's checked him over, and Steve only has the one mark. No other tattoos. Just Eddie's own words, and miles of tan, freckled skin. And the moles. Oh, the moles. Not to mention the thick thatch of chest hair that lights a fire inside Eddie. Eddie rubs his fingers through it, and has the unexpected thought that he wants to come in it, wants to titty fuck him, even if that wouldn't exactly be an easy endeavor. Not to mention, well, maybe not something to suggest on the first date. He doesn't have to let his entire freak flag fly. 

He moves on, but will tuck that pretty mental image somewhere safe in the back of his brain, as he slides his hand down to thumb at Steve's nipple. Steve's hips come up off the bed, and Eddie knows they are going to have so much goddamn fun tonight.

Not just tonight.

Forever.

And isn't that a heady thought?

His fingers go right back to that chest hair, and his hand wanders, getting a handful of his chest, squeezing, and Steve chuckles. 

"Boobie man?" Steve asks, and it's playful, not judgmental at all.

"Fuck," Eddie says, and he wouldn't have especially said that he's a boob man. He likes them just fine, but there's something about Steve's chest hair. Manly, dark and thick in the middle, spreading up and out, that is really pressing buttons he didn't even know he had.

"I'm a pervert, the things I want to do to you will send you running for the hills," Eddie says, and Steve lets out the best sounding laugh in the world.

"Doubtful. Do 'em," Steve says, "I'm no blushing virgin. I've been around the block. I've been around several blocks, and had fun on every corner."

"Fuck me," Eddie says, rubbing his hard cock against Steve's thigh, "how come our blocks never crossed until now? My map was faulty."

Steve giggles, and it's adorable.

"You're gorgeous, and your chest hair is making me think all kinds of thoughts," Eddie admits, leaning back so he can see Steve's face.

By giving Steve space, Steve takes both hands, and presses his pecs together. There's just enough softness, just enough give, that Eddie is sure he could actually do it.

He could slide his dick between them, and feel all that hair hugging the underside of his cock.

Eddie starts fisting his own cock, watching. Wanting.

Their first sexual encounter cannot be him fucking Steve's chest. He's weird, and proud of it, but maybe not that weird.

Instead he slides down the bed, and admires Steve's impressive cock as it lays against his belly, hard and leaking. Steve flexes, making it bounce, and Eddie laughs, delighted. Can he already love him? Because he thinks he already loves him.

Eddie slides his fingers between Steve's cock and his belly, guiding it upwards, rubbing the head against his bottom lip, tongue sneaking out to taste, and then he sinks down, taking him fully into his mouth. He's a mouthful, more than, but Eddie's no quitter. Eddie moans, and Steve echoes him, as Eddie uses his free hand to grip Steve's hip.

He wants to blow him, wants to roll him over and eat him out until he cries and begs for Eddie's cock. He wants it all, wants everything, and thinks he just might get it.

Eddie's never had sex like this before. And he's had some damn good sex. This just feels like a whole different level of attraction, of connection.

Soulmates. 

He thought he knew, but he really didn't.

Steve's in his lap, rocking back and forth on his cock, working him over like a goddamn pro. Arms wrapped around Eddie's neck, mouths locked together, sharing breath, unwilling to let one another go. 

He was right. He is feisty. Just not in the way Eddie had always expected. 

Eddie's getting close, and he snakes a hand between them, fisting Steve's cock, hoping he'll be able to to take him over the edge right along with him. 

"Eddie," Steve breathes against his mouth, a warning, and Eddie nods up and down, encouraging him.

"Do it, god, do it. Come," Eddie demands, and Steve does. Warmth hitting Eddie's hand, his belly, as Steve tightens down on Eddie's cock, pulsing with his orgasm.

Eddie pushes up into him, still chasing his own, when Steve unceremoniously slides up and off him. He's bewildered, stunned for the heartbeat it takes Steve to flop onto his back, hands pressing the sides of his chest together, an offer.

Eddie strips off the condom, slides his thighs along Steve's ribs, and leans forward, bracing himself against the headboard. Slick cock pressing into Steve's skin, the slight roughness of the chest hair a new sensation, and he thrusts. He can't see Steve's face, not from this angle, but the idea alone is enough to get him across the finish line, and he slides back, a downstroke, coming with a long, hard groan. Fuck. That was something. Too quick, but so fucking filthy that he couldn't hang on a second longer.

He pants, and scoots back down to Steve's waist. Admiring his handiwork. Come is stuck in Steve's chest hair, and some shot upwards, hitting the underside of Steve's chin, pooling in the hollow of his neck.

"Fuck, we are meant to fucking be," Eddie says, rubbing his thumb through the mess, darkening his chest hair even further, matting it together.

Steve laughs, "I'm gonna need a shower, but goddamn, you were worth the wait. I've been waiting for somebody to match my freak."

Eddie laughs, delighted and wowed by this man under him. His fucking soulmate. He moans, and buries his face in Steve's neck as they cling to each other, spreading the mess further. They're both gonna need showers, and that's totally fine with Eddie. Worth it.

And this was just the first time. First times have no business ever being that good, and Eddie presses his mouth to Steve's sweaty neck, offering him open-mouthed kisses.

Offering Steve himself, his love, his whole future if Steve is willing to take it.

All of his freak, and more.

Morning comes too soon, and Steve slides out of bed to get dressed. Eddie watches as Steve pushes down his sleeves, and then changes his mind, pushing them back up towards his elbows. 

"It's supposed to be sunny and seventy, definitely up," Eddie chimes in, hands tucked behind his head, just enjoying the free show.

Steve smiles, "Yeah. Just, habit. I've hidden my mark for so long it's gonna take some time to break the habit."

"You hid it? Why?"

"Well, you're a fucking dickhead didn't seem wildly romantic. I had no idea it wouldn't be directed at me," Steve says, and oh, Eddie never thought of that.

Eddie gets out of bed, and wraps his arms around Steve's middle, squeezing him tight, "I'd never. But I get it. I thought mine was towards me, too. But I was wearing it like a badge of honor. Fucking Goodie," Eddie teases.

Steve grins, "He finally introduced us. I can't be too mad at him."

And Eddie isn't mad either, he owes Goodie several beers. A new pair of shoes if he's still salty that his toe got stepped on. Whatever he wants, within reason.

"Do you really have to go to class?" Eddie asks.

"At least my first one. Six more weeks to go."

"Yeah, yeah. Same boat. You anywhere near the union for lunch?" Eddie asks, hopeful.

"Yes. Meet you there at twelve-twenty?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. That works. Eddie doesn't want to take his hands off of him, doesn't want to let him out of his sight, like he might disappear, even if that's irrational. They've exchanged numbers. Apparently all of Eddie's friends know Steve's best friend. Steve's not going anywhere. 

"Here," Eddie says, walking over and rummaging through his closet, pulling out a black t-shirt, "wear this. Nowhere to hide."

He hands over the shirt, and watches as Steve tugs off his Henley, tossing it onto Eddie's bed, and then slips the new shirt over his head. Corroded Coffin emblazoned across his chest, and Eddie grins. He's got a soulmate.

He's got Steve. 

"Look at you," Eddie says.

Steve looks down at his chest, "Oh, my friend Chrissy talks about this band."

"You know Chrissy?" Eddie asks, because Jesus H. Christ, of course Steve does. The universe was working overtime to get them connected, but for some reason they were just stumbling around the same campus like fools, not making it happen, for four years.

"You know Chrissy?" Steve repeats. "I've been meaning to introduce her to Robin, I think they'd hit it off. We should all do something. Goodie can push me down again, or whatever it is that you all do for fun."

Eddie tosses his head back and laughs, "He's not usually that aggressive. He must have been possessed by our profane soulmarks."

Steve smiles at him, and it makes his heart flip in his chest. How did he get this lucky? Steve Harrington is perfect. He couldn't have picked better if given the choice. He's really something else.

"The universe thought we needed a shove, literally."

Eddie grins. Definitely worked. Job well done.

"Full transparency? That's our band," Eddie says, a smile tugging at his lips as he touches the logo on Steve's chest, "and we have a slot at The Cave on Friday."

"Wouldn't miss it," Steve says, leaning forward to kiss him one more time. Eddie kisses him back before Steve really has to leave, the door closing softly behind him.

Steve may have had to go, but Eddie'll see him later, and they'll pick this right back up where they left off.

Eddie picks Steve's discarded Henley up off the bed. Maybe he'll wear this today. He doesn't need to wear his mark like a badge of honor anymore. He won the whole goddamn lottery, because Eddie's finally met his match, his soulmate, and Steve is more than he could have ever hoped for. He can't wait to see what the future brings for them. 

He pictures an entire life shared between Mr. You're A Fucking Dickhead and Mr. Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker.

And Eddie laughs, absolutely delighted by the prospect. 

He can't wait.

Read Steve's POV here.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 💞

Notes: I don't think I've written soulmates before, so I'm not sure if I've stayed with the trope or veered into left field, but I know I had fun with this one. I loved the idea that their first words in each other's presence would be something so unhinged, lol. And Goodie shall never let either of them forget that their soulmarks were spoken to him not each other.

[supernova-stardust]

No One Has To Know What We Do

jegulus | 18+ | 5,602 words | kinktober submission

@jeguluskinktoberr day 26 - mirror sex

Regulus has worked his entire life to earn a spot at Juilliard in their ballet program, but one day he's late to class and is forced to teach the Columbia football team their monthly ballet lesson. Enter James Potter: handsome, cocky, and annoying. Obviously, Regulus hates him immediately and can't resist his charm.

OR

Regulus and James hook up in the ballet studio after class and make a mess of the mirror (and each other).

This fic was written specifically for Jegulus Kinktober 2024 and contains the following prompts:

cunnilingus/deep throating, marking, impact play, semi-public sex, punishments, praise kink, mirror sex, breathplay

entire fic after the break or read on ao3, minors: dni

Regulus had never been late to class in his entire life. In fact, he typically showed up at least a half hour early to warm up, stretch, and make sure that he always got his favorite spot at the barre. Ballet was a wonderful discipline and he prided himself on being the most disciplined. He was never, ever late. That’s part of what had earned him his spot here in the first place. Very few people made it to the college level for ballet, let alone men. Nevermind Juilliard. He had goals, namely to be a part of the NYC Ballet Company and perform until he physically couldn’t anymore.

And so, the fact that he was running late today felt so unreal, it was like an out-of-body experience. Of course every single thing that could have gone wrong did go wrong and as he entered the room huffing out of breath with everyone staring at him, he knew that he was in for the worst class of his life.

“Lovely of you to join us, Regulus. I was just telling everyone who arrived on time that the studio will be closed to private practices this evening to allow the Columbia football team to have their monthly lesson,” his instructor explained as he set his belongings down on the floor in the corner and made his way to the barre. Thankfully, his spot was empty. Dancers were creatures of habit after all. “I was going to ask for a volunteer to stay tonight and teach their lesson, but since you’re late, I believe you should have the energy to stay late today.”

Fuck. Of course the only time he was late he would get saddled with teaching the football jocks. It was well known that none of them took their lessons seriously.

“Of course, I’d be happy to stay,” he said instead of voicing his honest thoughts. He’d rather drown himself than stay late for people who didn’t even respect the work they did, but saying no wasn’t exactly an option if he wanted to maintain his instructor's respect.

***

As the football team filed into the studio, Regulus felt more nervous and exposed than he expected. Growing up, he always knew he was a man. He started testosterone the moment he turned eighteen, despite his parents disowning him for it and in his everyday life he never thought about ‘passing’ anymore. He rarely, if ever, experienced dysphoria anymore. No one he knew before transitioning went to university with him and really the only person who knew and he saw regularly was his older brother, Sirius. Despite all of that, being surrounded by muscular and extremely masculine men had him questioning his ability to 'pass' for the first time in a long time. Every guy who walked in made him feel more and more self conscious. His body was toned and muscular, he couldn’t dance for hours on end if he wasn’t fit, but where he was all lithe limbs and grace, these men were bulky muscles, sharp jawlines, and reminded him of the picture-perfect portrayal of masculinity. 

“Please spread yourselves out on the barre along the wall and stretch while we wait for everyone to arrive,” Regulus announced. He heard murmurings of jokes and complaints but didn't deign them important enough to respond. He scrolled through the music app on his phone, searching for his preferred playlist that he listened to for warmups when he was alone. He hoped that it worked well enough for the class today, but figured that the jocks in the room wouldn’t notice if it didn’t anyway. As he connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker in the studio, a man with dark, messy hair and richly tanned skin ambled into the studio. The man’s warm brown eyes crinkled behind golden framed glasses as he laughed loudly at something one of his teammates said as they came into the studio together, not caring about the etiquette of staying quiet in the studio to avoid disruptions.

Regulus hated him immediately.

The two men shoved at each other a bit before Regulus cleared his throat. The two of them froze and looked at him, the one wearing glasses raking his eyes up and down Regulus’ body. “There’s a time and place for… whatever it is you’re doing,” Regulus snapped at them. “This is neither. Please, take a spot at the barre so we can get class started. Might I remind you that this is a requirement for your training and your coach relies on my feedback to know whether or not you're participating properly.”

They went completely stone-faced and found their ways to the barre at Regulus' scolding, clearly wanting to make sure that they didn't need to repeat this lesson in order to continue to be a part of the team. Regulus went through the motions of showing the team a very basic combination to start and pressed play on the music. “Five, six, seven, eight,” he counted out and led the class into their warmup. Once he was sure that they had the basic combination down, he began making his rounds down the barre, offering subtle corrections and moving their bodies as needed. When Regulus made his way to the man with the golden skin and messy hair, he placed his hands on his hips and adjusted him properly.

“At least ask my name first, love,” the man joked, his eyes crinkling in that annoyingly cute way as he smiled wide. 

“Does it matter? Neither of us wants to be here,” Regulus retorted.

“Aw, c’mon. You don’t know that.” He tilted his hips again and Regulus swore it was intentional. “My name’s James, by the way.”

“James, you know what I want you to do?” Regulus asked as he corrected his hips again.

“What’s that, love?”

“Shut up and hold your hips properly.”

James hummed and looked as though he’s deep in thought for a moment before he replied. “I’d prefer if you held them, I think.” 

His teammate behind him at the barre stifled a laugh and looked away quickly when Regulus glared at him. Regulus groaned in annoyance and walked away, figuring that ignoring him was the better option for class to be able to continue with as few disruptions as possible.

After what Regulus swore was the longest hour of his life, he dismissed the class and informed them that he would be emailing their coach to confirm that they all completed the class and to schedule their time for the following month. The men all nodded and said their thanks as they grabbed their belongings and shuffled out the door. All except for one. When only Regulus and James remained in the studio, Regulus walked over to his bag on the floor and pulled on his oversized sweater and baggy sweatpants. He sat on the floor and peeled his black ballet shoes off his feet while watching James standing in the middle of the studio. His entire life he’d been under a microscope, having his body analyzed and critiqued for every slight imperfection, but he’d never felt more heavily scrutinized than while James was staring at him alone in this space. 

“You can leave now,” Regulus snapped. After ten hours in the studio, he was ready to leave and he didn’t want to entertain this immature man any longer than he had to.

“I just— You never told me your name.”

“That was intentional.”

James stepped closer to him and while normally being alone with a man like this might make him uncomfortable, Regulus couldn’t help but feel drawn to everything about him, his casual confidence pulling him in. If they were in different circumstances and had met in a more controlled setting where Regulus could make sure that he was cool with the fact that he was trans before any flirting happened, Regulus might have even wanted to date this annoying man. Or at least fuck him. He hated James for it.

“Are you really gonna make me beg? I’m not above getting on my knees, you know.”

Fucking hell, this guy.

“Regulus.”

The corner of James’ mouth quirked up in a smirk and he took another step closer. “Regulus,” he said in a way that made his name sound like sin. “I’ve never met anyone named Regulus before. A unique name for a unique beauty.”

Regulus scoffed as he stood, grabbing his bag and slipping on his slides as he tried to step around James. “Thanks. Picked it out myself. Are you done? I’d like to go home now.”

“Picked it out— oh, that’s cool.” James stepped into his path and walked backwards as Regulus continued walking towards the door as if James wasn't even there. When they reached the door, James pressed his back to it and smiled down at him. “Look, I’m gonna be really honest with you, I think you’re hot.”

Regulus glared at him in response, crossing his arms and pushing his weight into one hip. He said nothing while James seemed to squirm under his cold eyes before continuing on.

“I, uh, I don’t date,” James explained. “Too busy between football, school, friends, and work. Feels rude to demand someone’s attention when I can’t give them mine.”

“I have a hard time believing you care about being rude.”

“Says the meanest guy I’ve ever met, I mean, fuck. You didn’t even give me a chance to— anyway, you’re hot. For some reason, I think I’m into the whole mean thing. We’re here all alone and I’m sure you’re the one with the keys to lock up.”

“Are you trying to hook up with me?” Regulus raised an eyebrow in question.

“Are you flattered?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” James whined as he banged his head on the door behind him. “Have you ever had a hot quarterback want to fuck you in the dance studio? You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t think about it at all during that class. You had us all bent over, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is a learning environment,” Regulus replied. “I’m a professional, you know.” He refused to admit that he absolutely was staring at James’ ass every time he passed by, but now he wondered if the man had seen him in the mirrors lining the walls.

“Please, you’re not as subtle as you think.”

Regulus’ cheeks turned pink at that and he felt the blush all the way to his ears.

“I’ll move so we can both go home if you can honestly tell me that you don’t want to hook up. But I have a feeling that you want this as badly as I do.”

The silence that stretched between them was charged with desire. As much as he hated the guy, Regulus wanted James so badly it hurt. But he was also terrified of, well, everything. Being a gay trans man came with a lot of disclaimers beforehand, in his experience. He tried to hint at the fact that he was trans earlier and James said he was cool, but did he really know what he was getting himself into by continuing to hit on Regulus? If he told James outright, would he be safe here alone with him? 

Regulus let out a shaky breath before he spoke again. “I— I don’t usually hook up like this.”

“It’s fine, it can stay between us.”

Oh, why did that hurt? Why didn’t he want to be kept as a dirty little secret? What was it about James that made him… want? He’d never wanted anyone like this before. 

“It’s not that, It’s— I’m trans.”

“Okay?” James’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure why that matters?”

Regulus gaped at him, unsure how to even respond to the confusing man before him.

“I think you’re hot,” James continued, saving Regulus from having to formulate a response. “I’m pretty sure you think I’m hot, though you haven’t admitted it. If I was a more self conscious man, I might feel a bit inadequate if I’m honest. We’re young and we have this place to ourselves for the night. I’m clean too, if you were wondering.”

“I’m clean,” Regulus responded without processing the rest of what James just said. 

James smiled at that. “So?”

“So?”

“You want to go home or can I kiss you already?”

Regulus dropped his bag on the floor next to him with a loud thud and crashed his lips onto James’, crowding his body against the door. Their first kiss was a cruel thing, the building energy between them finally boiling over into something physical. James’ arms wrapped around Regulus, one snaking down to his lower back and the other gripping the nape of his neck. When Regulus brushed his tongue along the seam of James’ lips, he opened for him and Regulus allowed himself to indulge in exploring James’ mouth.

Regulus reached a hand down towards the knob of the studio door near James’ hip and clicked the lock in place while they continued kissing. He felt James smirk against his mouth and pulled back, glaring at the taller man he had pinned against the wall with his body.

“What?” Regulus snapped. He would never admit it outloud, but really wasn’t sure why this man’s cocky attitude was so attractive. That smirk on his face made him melt and Regulus knew that he was in for a world of hurt after this was all over and James wanted nothing to do with him again.

“Planning on more than a kiss?”

“You were the one who—”

“I know, shh, I’m just teasing.” James placed a quick peck on Regulus’ lips. “I feel like I’m pushing my luck here by asking, but do you have a condom?”

Regulus felt his face heat. He normally wasn’t embarrassed by sex, honestly. There was just something about this Adonis of a man trapped against the door in front of him asking him for a condom that felt like an out-of-body experience. “Uh, I think so, let me check.” He dropped down to his knees and rifled through his bag, trying to ignore the heavy weight of James’ gaze on him. When he found the condom, he grabbed it and looked up, holding the condom up like a prize. James’ eyes were heavy with desire and when Regulus went to stand up, James buried a hand into his hair to hold him in place. 

“You look so pretty on your knees, Regulus.”

“I’d look prettier with your cock in my mouth.”

“Oh,” James tightened his grip in his hair and Regulus let out a wanton moan at the feeling. “You are a good boy, aren’t you?”

Regulus hummed in response and reached for the waistband of James’ shorts, tugging them and his boxers down just low enough to free his hard cock. Regulus leaned forward against the resistance of the hand buried in his hair and lapped at the precum beading at the tip. James groaned at the feeling and pumped himself a couple of times in front of Regulus’ face. Regulus raised himself up higher on his knees and dragged his hands up under James’ shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen and back before he licked at a vein along the underside of his cock and then sucked him into the back of his throat, taking as much of him in his mouth as possible. 

He bobbed his head a few times, relishing at the feeling of James’ hand threaded in his dark curls guiding his movements, then pulled back and ran his tongue up his entire length. He swirled his tongue around the tip once, twice, then pushed his tongue at the slit, moaning at the unique salty taste that was James. When he looked up under hooded eyes, they locked eyes and James gave him a pleased smile.

“Fuck,” James breathed. “You’re so good for me, you do look so pretty just like this, I knew you would. Can you be such a good boy and let me fuck your throat, hm?”

Regulus squirmed as he opened his mouth with his tongue flat, feeling hot wetness pooling between his legs. When he felt James slide his cock back into his mouth, he relaxed his throat and surrendered completely to the pace that James set. He felt James shift so he had one hand on both sides of his head and Regulus adjusted so that both of his hands gripped James' hips. He was slow at first, unsure of how Regulus would handle his size, but grew more confident when Regulus moaned around his cock. Soon, the pace was unrelenting and Regulus felt his eyes watering, tears streaming down his face. Spit ran down his chin and he found that he didn't care at all. He dug his fingers into James' hips, hoping to leave bruises. Evidence that he had James, if only for a little while. He barely had any room to breathe between the strokes as James continued to thrust into him, focused entirely on his own pleasure.

Before he knew it, James pulled himself out of Regulus’ mouth. He bent down to wipe the spit off of Regulus' chin with his thumb then languidly sucked at it before pressing the pad of his thumb against Regulus' bottom lip. Regulus swiped his tongue out and caught James' thumb in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the digit. James smirked, pulling his thumb away and wiped at the tracks of tears on Regulus' face with his thumbs. Regulus whined a needy sound at feeling so empty, rubbing his thighs together in hopes that any form of friction would bring him relief. James leaned in to kiss him before pulling Regulus to his feet as he tucked his erection back into his shorts.

“Shh,” James soothed, pushing his hair away from his face and placing soft kisses on his cheeks. “Let me return the favor, c’mon.”

James grabbed his hand and dragged a boneless Regulus to the center of the room. When he got there, he held up one finger, signaling for Regulus to wait a moment. Regulus wanted to pout, but watched as James went to the corner of the room where a stack of folding chairs leaned against the wall. He grabbed one and carried it back to where Regulus stood, opened it up, then pushed Regulus into the seat facing the mirror covered wall. 

Regulus reached his hands out towards James’ hips and tugged him closer, hoping to return to having that beautiful cock in his mouth before James clicked his tongue softly. “I said I was going to return the favor, baby.” James knelt down and looped his fingers under the waistband of Regulus’ sweatpants. “Can I?”

“In front of the mirror?”

“Why not?” James shrugged. “It’s hot. Plus it’s not like there’s anywhere in this room without a mirror. Might as well make good use of it.” James playfully tugged at Regulus' waistband with one hand again as he removed his glasses with the other and set them to the side on the floor. “Are you gonna make me beg or can we continue?”

Regulus nodded as he shifted his hips so James could pull at his baggy sweatpants, then he heard James laugh as he pulled at the baggy shorts underneath his sweatpants revealing yet another pair of shorts, these ones much tighter and shorter. “So many layers,” James huffed. “Why do you need so many layers?” He pulled down the shorts and finally got to Regulus’ underwear. Pulling those down, he unbunched all of the layers of pants from around his ankles and threw them to the side. The cold metal of the folding chair bit into Regulus’ skin as he sat there in just his baggy sweater feeling extremely exposed.

“Keeps the muscles warm in between—” All thoughts of the logistics in layering clothing during ballet were lost as he felt James spreading his legs apart. James bit down on the soft skin of his innermost thigh as he slid his hands up to Regulus’ hips. He allowed James to pull him towards the edge of the seat, tilting his hips up to give James better access. 

Regulus writhed at the first feeling of James’ tongue on him and he let out a shameless moan that echoed around the room. He tilted his head back and allowed his legs to fall open in pure pleasure. James grabbed under his thighs to hike his legs up over his shoulders, giving himself more access as he continued devouring Regulus, licking and sucking at him. When Regulus glanced up, he looked at the two of them in the mirror. Watching James on his knees worshiping his body, he understood immediately why James said it would be hot. He had never seen a sight quite so erotic and between the feeling of James sucking on his most sensitive nerves and the reflection before him, he climaxed hard and fast. His orgasm rippled through him and James reacted by moaning as he pushed his tongue inside him, lapping at his release. 

As he came down from the orgasm, James slowed down and started kissing down his thighs, sucking small bruises along the way. Normally, Regulus would ask his lovers to avoid leaving marks like that, especially since they were so visible in classes, but something about James made him want to be claimed. He wanted people to know they were together, and for a time, be able to say that he belonged to James.

Just when he felt like he was coming back into his body, James pushed two fingers inside him and curled them up at the perfect angle, hitting the sensitive walls inside his body. Regulus felt his entire body jolt with pleasure as James’ tongue returned to between his thighs, circling the sensitive nerves and flicking in time with his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Regulus whined, feeling his body climbing rapidly towards another orgasm.

James pulled back to gaze up at him, his fingers continuing at a punishing pace. “I know you can cum for me again, baby. Show me what a pretty boy you are while you cum on my fingers.” He bit into his leg just above his knee and sucked a bruise, watching his fingers pumping in and out of Regulus’ body. His orgasm crashed through his body again and James moaned at the sight, dipping his head between his legs again and giving him one languid lick before pulling back and smiling up at Regulus. He sucked on his fingers and made a show of licking off every drop, giving Regulus a visual reminder of how skilled he was with that tongue.

“Think you can go again?” James asked from between his legs. Regulus had no doubt in his mind that if he said yes, the man would sit between his thighs all night long, and maybe if they hooked up again he’d get the opportunity to experience it, but for now he really wanted to know what he felt like buried deep inside him.

Regulus shook his head and pulled off his oversized sweater, then the white tee underneath until he was sitting in the middle of the room, fully exposed. “Your turn, you have a criminal amount of clothing on your body.”

James barked a laugh and practically ripped off his clothes as he stood. He grabbed Regulus’ hand and hoisted him to his feet, pulling him in close to his naked body. The feeling of their bare skin brushing against each other was enough to set Regulus’ overstimulated nerves alight. He moaned as he leaned in for a kiss, tasting a heady combination of the two of them on James’ lips.

“I’m going to grab the condom,” James said against Regulus’ lips, his breath hot. He kissed down Regulus’ jaw and neck before he continued. “Go stand facing the mirror for me.”

“I—”

“If you don’t want me to take control, tell me now sweetheart.” James said softly. He placed a quick peck against his lips. “Otherwise, I’m going to get a little bossy from here on out.”

Regulus nodded, then moved to stand facing the mirror while James dug through their discarded clothes for the condom Regulus had found earlier. When he returned, James stood behind him and gently grasped at his jaw, ensuring they made eye contact through the mirror.

“Familiar with the traffic light color system?”

Regulus nodded again and James clicked his tongue. “I’m going to need verbal confirmation here, baby.”

“Yes.” 

“Good, so if you want me to stop immediately you say?”

“Red,” Regulus answered without hesitation.

“And if I check in and you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Green.”

“Good boy. Last one, then we can continue. If you need to pause or something doesn’t feel right?”

“Yellow.”

James kissed his neck from where he stood behind him and smiled. “Very good. Now, hands against the glass for me. And they’re not allowed to move at all. Your pretty little ass will get a beating if they do. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes… Sir?”

James clicked his tongue and Regulus could tell that he was disappointed. "Come now, you can do better than that."

Regulus wracked his brain searching for whatever it was that James was asking. Finally, it came to him after he reflected on all the times James had called him 'baby' and a 'good boy.'

"Yes, Daddy."

James let out a groan at that, moving his hand down from Regulus’ jaw to his throat and squeezing slightly. Regulus keened and pushed his hips back towards James, searching for friction. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” James said as he pulled back and ripped at the condom wrapper. Regulus whined at the loss of the hand around his throat and turned around. He draped his arms around James' shoulders and sought out his lips for a kiss.

With the condom not fully unwrapped, James froze and gripped Regulus’ throat, stopping him from the kiss he was seeking. “What did I say, baby?”

“Oh, please.” Regulus scoffed when James loosened his grip just enough to allow him to reply. “We hadn’t even started yet.”

James’ eyes darkened at that. “Did I or did I not tell you that if you moved your hands from the mirror, you’d be punished?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Do you want to push me to find out how serious I am?” At the silence hanging between them, James smirked. “Now, turn around. Hands on the mirror. I’m going to spank you five times and you’re going to count out each one, thanking me for every one. If you stop counting or lose your manners, you’ll earn five more. Understand?”

“Yes.” Regulus followed his instructions, placing his hands on the cold mirror and breathing as evenly as he could.

“Yes what?” James kneaded his ass, making him even more sensitive to the touch.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy. Color?”

“Green.”

James hummed in acknowledgement before his hand slapped Regulus’ ass. Regulus let out a surprised yelp. 

“Count, baby. I won’t remind you again.”

“One,” Regulus cried out. “Thank you, Daddy.”

James’ hand smacked down again, the sound echoing in the room, and Regulus gasped at the shock of pain that rippled through his body. “Two. Thank you, Daddy.” Regulus looked up into the mirror, taking in James’ hungry face. 

“Maybe you can be trained, baby. Three more. You’re doing so good.”

With each slap to his ass, Regulus became more sensitive and felt himself slipping into a hazy headspace where everything felt like pure pleasure shooting to every nerve in his body. When he finally reached number five, James dropped to his knees behind him and rubbed at his cheeks before pulling them apart and licking all the way from his sensitive nerves to his ass. He circled the ring of muscle with his tongue and pushed in slightly.

“Fuck,” James breathed hot against him. “You did so good, baby. You’re fucking dripping for me. Have you learned your lesson? Will you be a good boy and let me fuck you now?”

Regulus nodded, a whine escaping his throat that he would normally feel embarrassed about.

“Words, baby.”

“Yeah— Yes, please. Please fuck me, Daddy. I need your cock inside me.”

James bit into one cheek of his ass before he stood up, grabbing the condom and rolling it on. “Anything for you,” James murmured as he lined himself up with Regulus’ entrance. They made eye contact in the mirror as James pushed in slowly, using both hands to grip onto Regulus’ hips and position him perfectly. “Color?”

“Green. Fuck, so fucking green.”

Finally, James moved his hips. Regulus had never been a religious man, but he swore that he found a new religion at the feeling of James inside him. James moved his hips in purposeful, deep thrusts, making Regulus see stars with each shift inside him. Regulus’ eyes closed and his head tilted back as he relished in the sensation until he felt a strong hand on his jaw. The grip was unyielding and Regulus knew that he’d do whatever the man this hand belonged to said.

“Eyes on me, baby,” James purred. “I want you to watch me ruin you for anyone else.”

Regulus cried out a moan and opened his eyes, taking in their bodies in the mirror. His hot breath fogged the mirror in front of him as James pounded into him from behind, both of them glistening with sweat. James’ face was smug as he continued to hold onto Regulus’ jaw, not offering him any way of avoiding watching their bodies. 

James’ pace started to slow, but he somehow managed to make it feel like he was impossibly deeper inside Regulus’ body. He snaked a hand down towards the bundle of nerves between Regulus’ legs and rubbed in confident circles, pushing Regulus closer and closer to the edge. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly experience more pleasure than he was already tasting, James’ hand slid down from his jaw to his throat and squeezed. The restriction of blood flow to his brain made Regulus feel fuzzy as he dissolved into pure pleasure. His knees buckled and he arched his back, pushing his ass into James’ hips as his orgasm washed over him. A moment later, James let out a moan and Regulus felt him pulsing inside of him as he followed him over the edge.

James ghosted his fingers along the side of Regulus’ neck as they rode out the last of their orgasms and he kissed his shoulder. When he pulled out, he took off the condom and tied it off, then walked over to toss it in the trash can next to the door. Regulus turned to lean against the mirror, watching James stride back towards him. Regulus gave him a weak, hazy smile.

“You okay?” James asked. He placed a quick peck on Regulus’ lips and rubbed soothing circles on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I—” James interrupted him by kissing him again. “I thought you said this was a one-time thing?” Regulus questioned.

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated like shit, Regulus.”

Regulus gave him a flat look before he pushed off the mirror and walked to where his clothes were piled on the ground. He started pulling on his many layers and by the time he was fully dressed again, he glanced over to see James standing watching him, still completely nude. Regulus bent over to grab his glasses on the floor and handed them to him. “What?” Regulus asked.

James pushed his glasses on his face and for the first time, Regulus witnessed a flustered James. “Look, I know what I said, but can I have your number anyway?”

“I won’t be your late night, drunk booty call, James.”

“I just…this was a lot of fun. It’d be nice to do it again sometime, that’s all.”

“So, a sober booty call?”

“No, I—”

“Listen, how about you give me your number? If I’m ever feeling like having you boss me around again, I’ll give you a call. How’s that?” Regulus raised an eyebrow as he pulled his cell out of his sweatpants pocket and held it out to James in offering.

James hesitated to take the phone from his hand, clearly playing a game of mental chess on how to obtain Regulus’ number, but Regulus refused to be a pawn in his games. “This is my only offer, it expires once your pants are on. Take it or leave it.”

Sighing, James grabbed his phone and created a new contact with his phone number, then handed it back to Regulus.

“‘Daddy,’ really? You seriously put your name as ‘Daddy’ in my phone?”

James smirked, then began dressing himself. “I figured you’d remember me that way.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but internally he might as well have been giggling and kicking his feet. He stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on James’ cheek. “I’ll consider calling you, Daddy,” he said and then he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Clean the mirror and take that trash bag out with you, yeah? I can’t have my teacher finding out about this.”

“You got it, baby.”

As Regulus walked out of the studio, he thought to himself that he should absolutely not call James again. He made a bargain with himself anyway that if he was still thinking about him in a few months, he’d gladly fall back into that man’s arms again.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

All I can get

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 5

Prompts: Impact & Full Rated: E

Words: 1,130

Tags: Pre S4; Fuck buddies; Angry sex; Spanking; Dirty talk; Top Eddie, Power bottom Steve; They're in denial, your honor

Notes: Y'all liked the pre S4 fuck buddies from the July microfic so much, so have some more.

“Y'know what is weird?” Eddie asks. Steve doesn’t reply, just pushes him down onto the bed, pausing only briefly to shuck off his pants and shoes before he dives after him. The mattress bounces under his weight, ridiculously thick and soft, and Eddie needs to bite back a snort as he shuffles up, reclining against the plush headboard. Fucking rich people. 

He's not even sure whose house this is. Hagan's? Is it Hagan's? Is he gonna fuck Steve Harrington in Mr. and Mrs. Hagan's bedroom while their ugly dumbass of a son runs around downstairs, looking for the king like a court jester out of a job? 

He doesn’t get to ponder the hilarity of that thought, because Steve is shoving greedy fingers inside of his pants to pull out his rapidly swelling cock. Steve himself is fully hard already, leaking over Eddie’s thigh and stomach as he crawls into his lap, and Eddie’s attention snaps back to the present as if pulled on a rubber band.

“The thing that's weird,” he repeats, one hand cupping Steve’s bare ass and giving a tight squeeze, “is that I used to think you didn't remember these little run-ins of ours. After all, you're always drunk and high off your ass at these parties. Aren't you, honey?” 

Steve doesn’t grace him with an answer. Instead he rolls his hips, making their naked cocks rub together, sending white-hot sparks of pure want sizzling straight into Eddie’s blood. Eddie grins, shifting the position of his hand, delighting in the little gasp he gets when he spreads Steve wide open. His fingers slip inside with a wet, slick sound, all the way to the first knuckle, and Steve's hips stutter. 

“But you do,” Eddie smiles, reveling in the needy, high-pitched keen he gets when he pulls his fingers out again. “You do remember. Why else would you come and find me every single time? Why else would you come prepared?” 

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, and impales himself on Eddie’s cock, bottoming out in one smooth movement. Warm and tight and perfect, like he was made for this. Eddie likes to think he was. 

“Aw, but why?” he asks, hands finding Steve's hips, nails digging into the thin layer of skin over bones, deep enough to leave marks that will stay for days. The traces of his touch branded into Steve’s flesh. Steve bites his bottom lip, and it quivers with his soundless whine. “Why, Stevie, are you ashamed of me? I’m wounded.” 

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, grinding himself up and down on Eddie’s cock, chasing his relief with quick, practiced movements. Something coils inside Eddie’s abdomen, something dark and dangerous and mean. Following a sudden impulse, he takes aim, letting his palm connect with Steve’s ass with an audible slap. 

Steve gasps and flinches, almost toppling off Eddie’s lap in his surprise. For a second or two, they both stare at each other, wide-eyed and speechless, and Eddie begins to think that he may have made a horrible mistake. Then, he sees the way Steve is blushing, dark pink and pretty all the way from his collarbone to the bridge of his nose. Sees the way his cock has jumped to attention, flushed and leaking precum. His face splits into a grin so wide it’s almost painful. 

“In fact,” he says, “I think you shouldn’t be shy about it. I think you should let everyone hear.” 

He isn’t sure which he likes more: The look of panicked anticipation on Steve’s face just before the second hit lands, or the barely stifled moan he lets out when it does. The force of the impact makes him rock forward in Eddie’s lap, and he clenches around him, taking him even deeper than before. 

“I think,” Eddie says, and slaps him again, so hard he can feel Steve’s ass bounce with it, “you should let everyone hear how much you enjoy it when I fill you up with my cock. I think everyone should hear you moan and whimper and cry like a needy little whore.” 

He punctuates his words with another series of slaps. They echo in the silent bedroom, drowning out the sounds of the party downstairs, and with every single one, Steve grinds himself a little deeper, stuffing himself a little fuller. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, his bottom lip puffy and swollen from biting down on it, but not once does he cry out. 

“Shame,” Eddie quips, digging his fingers into the skin of Steve’s ass again, nails sinking right into the sensitive, abused flesh, and Steve fucking keens, slumping forward and bracketing his arms against the headboard for support. “If everyone knew, we could just stop this little game of hide and seek, y’know. I could just sit down there, and sell my goods, and keep you in my lap all night, like the pretty little slut you-” 

“I said shut up,” Steve breathes, and crushes their mouths together. The kiss is as harsh and bruising as Eddie’s hits, Steve’s teeth digging into his lips, Steve’s tongue filling his mouth, allowing him no room to breathe or break away. Not like he’d want to. 

Eddie’s climax hits him with a suddenness that surprises even himself, making starbursts of light erupt behind his closed eyelids as he screams into that warm, wet mouth and spills deep inside Steve’s body. Steve moans into the kiss, grabbing Eddie’s hand to roughly guide it to his own twitching cock. Two or three hard pumps are all it takes for him to follow suit, painting Eddie’s chest and stomach in thick, white ropes. They stay where they are for a few moments, ragged breaths mingling in the thin sliver of space between them, while they both come down and Eddie’s cock slowly goes limp inside of Steve. 

Then, without a word, Steve rolls off the bed. As he bends down to retrieve his pants off the floor, Eddie can see the imprint of his own hand on his ass, bright red and angry. 

“You might wanna spend the rest of the night standing up,” he can’t help but say as Steve makes his way to the door. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone the reason if you don’t.” 

Steve pauses on the threshold just long enough to shoot him a withering look. 

“Please. Like anyone would believe you.” 

He has a point, Eddie muses as he cleans himself up with the box of tissues on the nightstand and puts himself back together. King Steve? With a freak like him? Yeah, fat fucking chance! 

In the bedroom mirror, his reflection grins back at him, lips puffy and swollen. Ah, well. They’ll both remember it happened, he made sure of that. 

He'll take all he can get. 

More smutty September

[callalillywrites]

Surprising His Omega

This story was originally written for the Horny Hoes Hootenanny event hosted by yenzys-lucky-charm and sweater-daddiesdumbdork, but I took down the original alongside all my other works due to personal reasons. I'm slowly bringing stories back here and on AO3 after either edits/expansions being made to each.

This story was exactly what I wanted it to be minus a few edits, so it's coming back first.

Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader (female)

Word Count: ~2200

Summary: You've been grumpy due to life, and your alpha has something special planned to get your back to your bubbly self.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics/verse; fluff; implied smut; not much else

Prompts used:

🍁 A: "Oh, come on, grump. It will be fun, I promise” B: "What do I get if it's not?" A: " What do you want?" 🍁 A/B/O 🍁 partner plans surprise event/night 🍁 autumn Getaway Extra Wheel Prompt: A Quickie

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

It’s been a long month.

Between the heatwave that descended on your city and the trials and tribulations heaped on you at work, you’ve hit your limit. Your usual sunshine demeanor has taken one too many hits until all you want to do is grump and grumble. Maybe hide away until life decided to be kinder to you.

But that wasn’t possible.

Your alpha would never allow you to wallow. That wasn’t his style.

Sure, he’d let you rant and vent to your heart’s content when you needed it, but he never let you stay low for too long. He needed and loved your sunshine too much to see it dimmed or diminished due to life.

No, your Steve always came up with a plan to bring your bright smile back on your face. He liked that bounce in your step and the cute wiggles you did whenever you were truly happy.

So, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise when he leaned in the doorway of your shared apartment’s living room. His arms crossed over his broad chest while he regarded you for a moment before saying, “Get up, sweetheart. We’re going out.”

You glanced at the smile on his face and burrowed further into the blanket covering you.

“No thanks.”

“Oh, come on, my little grump.” He pushed off the wall and dropped next to you. His hands made quick work of removing the blanket from you and tossing it across the room. He ignored your glare as he pulled you into his lap and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help grumbling, “I’m not a grump.”

That earned you an eye roll and a huffed laugh.

“I could smell your grumpiness from the hallway, sweetheart. So, get up. I have a little surprise for you. I think you’ll really like it. At the very least, it’ll be fun. I promise.”

You did like his surprises.

Yet, you resisted, which really wasn’t like you. That told you more than anything that you needed whatever your adoring alpha had planned for you.

It didn’t stop you from asking, “What do I get if it’s not?”

“Hmm,” Steve pressed another kiss to your nose this time as he considered you. A chuckle slipped out when you wrinkled your nose because of his beard.

You had to fight not to squirm when he rubbed his beard down your cheek to your jaw, little kisses and nips tickling your skin. It grew worse when his lips and beard found your bond mark. On his way, he made sure you saw the playful twinkle in his gaze.

His teeth nibbled along his old marks. Shivers danced along every nerve and had you unable to sit still in his lap. No doubt by design with the way he kept doing it.

When you made to get away, he tightened his hold on you but finally relented.

You gave him your best reproachful look as you crankily mumbled, “You never answered my question.”

“I don’t need to because I know you’re going to love it.”

Your look turned withering at his teasing assuredness.

As much as you wanted to be mad at him for messing with your perfectly acceptable plans to sulk, you couldn’t. He was a good alpha who always did his best to make sure you never lacked for anything, especially his love and attention.

After another moment passed in quiet, Steve relented again. “Okay, okay, beautiful. What would you want?”

Well, you hadn’t expected him to actually answer your question with one of his own. That wasn’t his style, so you had to make sure your answer would be a good one. It needed to be something you actually wanted while also having the power to surprise your alpha. If you didn’t keep him on his toes, then what was the point?

While you continued to ponder how to answer, Steve kept himself distracted by moving one arm so he could trace patterns where your hoodie’s sleeve had hiked up. His lips resumed their earlier teasing with little nibbles and nuzzles against your neck until you couldn’t take it another moment.

Gripping handfuls of his hair, you tugged his head backward until he could no longer reach you with those sinful lips of his.

“If I don’t like whatever you have planned,” you tightened your hold in his hair to make sure you had his full attention while also pulling a groan from him, “then you owe me one of the best quickies wherever you’re taking me. Don’t care where you do it or how, but I want you to rock my world in the shortest amount of time possible.”

His eyes darkened with promise at your words, but you refused to give into that look.

You arched a brow at him. “Do we have a deal, Alpha?”

The way you emphasized his designation worked the way you hoped it would. Another groan escaped him, louder this time while his lustful eyes closed.

“That’s a dirty trick, and you know it,” he growled, his voice low and almost menacing in ways that had you shifting your position on his leg. His hands moved to your hips and held you still. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feel the evidence of your effect on him against your thigh.

If you felt a bit more daring, you might’ve teased Steve some more.

When he did open his eyes again, his lustful gaze met yours.

“Yes, ‘mega. We have a deal.”

He held you another moment before finally setting you on your feet and smacking you on the ass.

“Now, love, go and get dressed in something warm. You’re going to need it for the drive. I’ll handle everything else.”

You moved toward the bedroom but turned back. “Wait, how far are we going?”

“Uh-uh.” Steve shook a finger at her. “Not going to ruin my surprise, sweetheart. Now, go. It’d be nice to get there before it gets too late.”

The sun had gone down not long ago, but it went down earlier during these late Autumn days.

Within thirty minutes, you had changed into the warmest clothing you had within your summer wardrobe. It hadn’t been much which reminded you to dig out your winter clothes as soon as you could. The nights dictated warmer pajamas though the days still held a touch of warmth when the sun shone down on a cloudless, windless day.

Trading your cami and shorts for a longer sleeved shirt and some form-fitting jeans, you picked up the hoodie you temporarily removed and wiggled back into it.

Emerging from the bathroom, you spotted your overnight luggage sitting on the bed. Your brows rose as you took in the items Steve had chosen for you while including brand-new toiletries that he must’ve picked up on his way home.

You couldn’t help wondering how long he’d been planning this surprise.

The amount of clothing wasn’t much, which spoke of a shorter surprise, yet that didn’t mean much where your alpha was concerned. He’d once treated you to a week-long trip where he’d not only bought you new clothes for the week but almost everything else your heart desired. Steve loved to spoil you with the money he made, and you’re happy to return the favor in your own special way.

“Bout ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Just need to grab my boots from the closet.”

“Already packed in the car. Came back to grab you and your bag.”

True to his word, he strode into the room, zipped up the zipper, and lifted the bag off the bed. While he had only one arm available, that didn’t stop him from swooping low and lifting you over his shoulder. As the world tilted, you could still make out the chuckle that left him at your shriek, wholly unprepared for his stunt.

To pay him back, you reached down and smacked his ass. Once for the one he’d given you earlier and another for not warning you before turning you upside down.

“Save it for our destination, love,” he murmured, another promise clear in his voice.

At the car, he carefully set you back on your feet before opening your door and helping you in. With you secured in the passenger seat, he closed your door, opened up the back door, and tossed your bag onto the seat in quick, efficient movements.

He surprised you when he got into the driver’s seat and reached behind your seat. In moments, he pulled out your favorite blanket and draped it across you, tucking you in. Though, he made sure to leave a space for his hand to creep under the cover and rest against your thigh after he started the engine.

The trip took you both out of the city and into the Catskills.

Soon enough, he pulled off the main road onto a private one until you came upon a modernly rustic cabin. Steps from the unpaved drive led to a wraparound porch and the large front door. The outside gave you a hint of the luxuries and open floor plan awaiting you inside. Small illuminated lanterns sat in the windows, giving the place an ethereal glow.

As Steve killed the engine, he turned toward you, asking, “So, sweetheart, do you like it? It’s ours for the weekend.”

“No, I don’t like it,” you shook your head but met his gaze while a smile emerged across your features, “I love it. And I love you.”

You leaned over the console and grabbed his cheeks in your hands. Tugging him close, you pressed kiss after kiss against his lips until you were both breathless.

Steve finally urged you out of the car and into the house, handing you the key to the front door. He would follow you after gathering your things from the car.

The earlier hints did little justice to what you found inside, wandering about the place. Your eyes couldn’t take it all in. You couldn’t help noticing how your surroundings were erasing the grumpiness that had weighed you down these past weeks.

When warm hands gripped your hips, you didn’t even startle. No, you melted into the solid chest at your back and let your alpha hold you for several precious moments.

“Happy?” he murmured in your ear.

You hummed your answer.

“That’s good, love,” he suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you towards one of the doors down the hallway, “but I’m certain I can make you much happier in, say, five minutes. Is that too long for a good quickie?”

“But, I didn’t win our deal,” you spluttered though your thighs had already begun to rub together.

Steve merely grinned down at you. “Seems to me you did. I promised you’d like it. Love is not like, so I’ve got some making up to do. After your quickie is done, I’m going to make sure you’re properly fed, then I’m going to take my time tonight until you no longer remember your own name. How does that sound?”

“You can do whatever you want, Alpha. I’m at your command.”

Bonus scene:

Long after Steve had you forgetting your name, he had you spread across him. His hands ran up and down your back in soothing caresses while he pressed kisses to your hair every so often. Your heartbeat slowed to match his.

"What happened at work to have you at your grumpiest today, sweetheart?"

Heat suffused your cheeks as the memory came back. You did your best to hide your face in his neck. Maybe if you could distract him with a few strategic nuzzles and nips, then you could try to forget.

But he wouldn't be distracted.

Lifting your face up by your chin, he kept his sharp, knowing gaze on you until you broke, whispering, "I had to write a company-wide memo. In the span of three paragraphs, I couldn't type hope to apparently save my life."

That got you an eyebrow lift.

Knowing your alpha, he wouldn't let you get away without explaining further, so your cheeks heated more as you grumbled, "I kept typing hoe instead of hope. Happy now?"

Steve didn't say anything at first.

His brows rose though.

Then, his shoulders shook, and your head dropped back to hide your face in his neck. A groan slipped past your lips.

"Oh, sweetheart." His laughter escaped him then.

You grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, grousing, "It's not funny. Do you know what would've happened if my boss hadn't proofread it before it went out? I'm still embarrassed it happened at all."

Steve's hands came up in a surrendering gesture even as his laughter continued to escape in chuckles now and again.

"My poor 'mega, has your alpha not been taking good enough care of you?" His voice dropped to a husky timber that never failed to send a shiver of promise down your spine.

You glared at him though a smile did peek through. "My alpha takes very good care of me, but I wouldn't mind being reminded again how good that care is."

His scent thickened with his desire as he shifted until you were under him. His beard tickled your ear. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart."

[oddsconvert]

August trying to make Christmas cookies or a ginger bread house. He is very bad at it. He checks the recipe every ten seconds, and still gets something wrong.

cw / recovery whump, fluff, vampire caretaker, bloodbag whumpee (recovering), reference to previous torture/captivity, wholesome asf baking

Huge TY to @dragonqueenslayer6 for the prompt!!! ❤️

August glared at the recipe card like it might bite him. As far as he was concerned, it was written in some ancient, lost language. He couldn’t decipher it to save his life. His plan? To throw everything in a bowl and hope for some miracle - pray that his cookies would be at the very least, edible.

“Alright, okay, let’s see…” August mumbled to himself, reading over the recipe for what felt like the gazillionth time, tracing each line with his finger. He gawked at his chaotic array of ingredients sprawled across the counters. Flour, butter, eggs, chocolate chips, vanilla extract, baking powder, icing sugar, sprinkles - each one looked more alien than the last. 

He couldn’t help but marvel at how complicated human food was. Compared to the simplicity of blood, this whole process felt like a science experiment. One that was destined to end in smoke and flames. It was all completely foreign to him. He’d never had to worry about meals—Lucas was self-sufficient enough. The only thing August ever had to handle was the shopping list. 

But he really wanted to do this. He wanted to bake the two most important people in his life a sweet treat, a small promise that all their Christmases from now on would be as magical and joyous as this one. His chest tightened at the thought of his friends - how much they had both suffered in their short lives. Marked by so much pain and anguish, so many Christmases spent in loneliness and hardship. Lucas with his years sleeping rough on the streets, alone and afraid. Declan, at the mercy of Vince’s whims, his mind and body twisted beyond his control. 

He couldn’t let them down now.

August’s mind momentarily blanked. “Sugar. Sugar, sugar…where would Lucas keep the sugar?” 

It felt bizarre, scavenging through his own kitchen as if he were a stranger in his own home. August rifled through the cupboards, pulling out a small glass container. He shook it gently, watching the white granules spill out, and without much thought, assumed it was the sugar he was looking for. The recipe had called for one cup of sugar.

“What are you doing, August?”

August whipped around, startled. Declan stood in the doorway, leaning on his cane, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He wore a loose-knit, sage-green jumper and faded, ripped jeans, a far cry from the broken shell of a man August had rescued from the depths of hell. Declan had gained weight, strength, and a quiet confidence, but August still saw the faint scars on his body—and the ones that lingered in his eyes.

“Uh, nothing-” August stammered, quickly ducking in front of the mixing bowl to hide the incriminating evidence. Declan raised his eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face urging him to confess. August sighed, resigning and stepping aside, “I was, um…about to make cookies… for you.”

The warmth in Declan’s gaze was unmistakable as he took a delicate step closer, his voice low and touched with appreciation. “For me?” he asked, as if the idea of someone doing something so kind for him was still too much to believe. His eyes flickered to the salt shaker.

“How much salt were you putting in there?”

August blinked down to the white granules, pointing to them with an accusatory finger, “No, that’s sugar-”

Declan chuckled, “Let me help you.” He limped closer, gently guiding August away from the counter with a hand on his shoulder. Reaching for the salt shaker, he swapped it with the sugar container, his smile never fading. “Sugar is in these pots, by the sink,” he explained, “Next to the coffee and tea bags.”

“I have never seen those in my life.”

Declan shook his head, exhaling a soft laugh through his nostrils. August watched as Declan moved along the counter, his movements slow and careful, as if still measuring every step. He felt a rush of admiration - despite everything, Declan had come so far. It was hard to believe this was the same man who lay zombified and catatonic in that bed upstairs.

“Alright, what’s next?” Declan asked, taking charge. August fumbled with the recipe card, scanning the first step.

“‘Beat butter and sugar in a large bowl until creamy’...” August’s voice faltered, his face scrunching in confusion. “'Beat butter'? Like... do I just punch it? What did the butter ever do to deserve that?”

“No,” Declan giggled, “It’s just a term. ‘Beating’ means like, mix it really well. Getting it smooth, so it holds the sugar better when you mix it together.”

“But how do you ‘beat’ butter without... actual beating?” August questioned, still dubious.

“Use a spoon. You have to put a little muscle into it, though” Declan explained, holding the butter up to August. 

August blinked at the stick of butter in Declan’s hand, his eyes narrowing. “That seems... unnecessarily complicated for something so simple.”

“Bakings like that sometimes,” Declan replied, smiling. “It’s about making things come together. It’s a little messy, but it works. You just have to trust the process.”

August grabbed the bowl, hesitating for a moment before he started. The eggs and sugar splashed together, but soon enough the mixture began to smooth out. He watched with a sense of triumph as it lightened, the sugar blending in. He stopped, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, and stared at the fluffy mixture.

“That’s looking good! See, you can do it!” Declan cheered. He peeked at the recipe card on the counter, “Now it wants us to add the egg and vanilla.”

August’s face drained of colour, his stomach sinking. The egg. He stared at it, feeling as though it had suddenly become his arch nemesis. There was no way in hell he was going to crack it without getting bits of shell everywhere. These cookies were definitely going to have some extra crunch.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the egg, holding it over the bowl. He tapped it against the edge, and the shell cracked wide open—too wide. A shower of small fragments dropped into the mixture. He froze, eyes widening. Declan stepped in, effortlessly scooping out the pieces of shell with practiced ease. “It’s okay,” he reassured. “It happens.”

August let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, feeling both relieved and embarrassed. “Thank you, Declan. I dread to think how these would have turned out without your help.”

“Hey, it’s you doing all the work! I’m just…keeping you on track,” he winked, fishing out a particularly large chunk of shell from the mixture. 

Declan always had a way of making the impossible possible, of taking something hopeless and finding the light through. It reminded August of when he first found Declan - on the brink of death, locked in his own mind, and August had fought to bring him back against all odds. And now here Declan was, steady and strong, helping him with something as simple as baking. 

August’s thoughts were interrupted when Declan glanced at the recipe card again. “Next up… we need to add the flour and baking powder.”

August nodded, grabbing the containers. He didn’t think twice, just tipping them both into the bowl in one swift motion. The moment the powder hit the batter, it was like a bomb went off. A massive cloud of flour erupted from the bowl, enveloping them both in a thick, white haze. August froze, blinking as the smoke swirled around him, coating his hair and clothes in a fine dust. The kitchen was suddenly a disaster zone, and Declan couldn’t help but let out a stunned gasp. 

“Well, that’s one way to do it. Declan chuckled, brushing flour from his eyes. 

"Well, that was a bit of a disaster."

Declan shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. “At least it’ll be a delicious disaster.”

August chuckled, shaking his head. “If these cookies turn out half as good as this mess, we’ll be lucky.”

“One things for sure,” Declan chirped, “they’ll definitely be unforgettable.”

I luffs them, your honour 👩‍⚖️ I love cheeky, lighthearted Declan SO MUCH. He deserves all the happiness after all the horror he's endured <3333

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

[morgoonie]

Monstertober Day 1 - Marking the Territory

Getting ahead of the October monster prompt that @ozzgin made and, as with every story I've written so far, its with a roswell conspiracies vampire (I have a problem I know)

Featuring Davos, he's in like one episode for a short time (but I love him anyway)

M!Vampire/Naga x F! Reader

"D-Davos slow down it's t-to much." You whined as your nails dug deeper into your boyfriends chest in a fruitless effort to push him off of you. You poor pussy was drenched and overstimulated from the hours he's spent stretching you out with his fingers and tongue for his first dick, your body desperately needed a break.

However your giant serpentine boyfriend was to far gone as he continued to grind his hips against yours, hoping that your body would miraculous accept his far to swollen knot, to hear your soft pleas. As he continued to pump his still hard cock into you each twitch and roll of his hips nudged you closer and closer to another orgasm.

Crying out his name as you clung to him Davos pressed himself more against your warm sweat covered body, his inflated knot throbbing against your wet hole as he filled you with more of his cum. You could only weakly moan in a mix of pleasure and pain as his sharp claws dug into your plush hips leaving bright red marks that you know will be replaced with bruises in the morning.

Panting against his neck an idea crossed your mind on how to properly get his attention and without hesitating you bite down onto him. While your teeth aren't able to actually harm your vampire but it's enough to make him go still.

A shiver courses through your body as a deep growl rumbled through Davos as he finally pulled out of you. His hand came up to press against your neck making you let go of his neck, but not before swiping your tongue over the light pink bitemark you left on him.

The triumph grin you had from finally getting him to pull out of you faltered when you saw the burning lust in his golden eyes. Before you could utter an apology Davos grabbed your plush thighs and pushed your knees up by your head, exposing more of your soaked pussy to him

"Hush now my sweetling~ you know what you invited when you bit me." His second cock twitched in excitement as he watched your hole quiver and clench around nothing as he let his words register in your mind, pearls of precum leaking from the tip coating the underside of his thick shaft down to his knot.

You always knew that Davos had a thing for leaving marks on you. It was his silent way of making sure others, both vampire and human, knew you were already claimed. Mentally cursing yourself all you could do is let out a resigned sigh and wiggle into a more comfortable position "Try not to go overboard at least? I want to be able to walk later."

Moving his hand to cup the back of your neck Davos pulled you closer so he could bury his face into your neck, giving you a soft "maybe" as he took deep slow breaths of your scent and nuzzled you affectionately. His larger body caged you completely under him as he pressed you further into the mattress tail shifting to coil around and under you as he lined up with your entrance again, hissing in satisfaction of feeling your combined juices slick up his tip.

The hiss quickly erupts into a possessive growl as Davos clamped his jaw around your throat, fangs piercing the soft skin enough to force your instincts to keep you still as he slowly pushed his second cock into you, burying himself to the knot in your sweet warm folds.

Wasting no time he begins slowly pulling out of you leaving only his tip inside. He gave you a momemt to mentally brace yourself before plunging back into your wet folds with a purr, your needy moans and the lewd wet squelching only spurring your boyfriend on as his continued to fuck you with a steadily increasing pace while his knot pressing more and more against your overly sensitive pussy begging to be let in.

Letting out a hiss that reverberats through your whole body the sensation forces you to relax more in his hold despite his fangs gripping your jugular. Releasing your throat with a pleased groan as he feels your body grow limp against him Davos' tongue softly flicks along your flushed skin tasting your heavy arousal.

Whining his pace faltered for a moment from your taste. Replacing his fangs with his lips Davos kissed and sucked along your neck leaving small marks of his love to have you show off later "F-fuck sweetling you're so perfect, my perfect little mate. Gonna be a good girl for me and take all of me this time, right? Gonna let me breed you and give you a nice big clutch~"

Moving your legs to wrap around his hips Davos uncoiled his tail and dragged you up with him as he stood, his large hands holding you up with ease as he bounced you on his cock, the one from earlier rubbing against your clit and coating both of your stomachs with your combined cum as he held you tightly against himself, his long tan and dark brown tail slapping against the mattress as he murmured soft praises against your neck. He was so close to fitting all of his length inside of you.

Sharp discomfort mixed with pleasure had you arching into his hold as his thick knot finally slipped inside of you. Luckily the discomfort didn't last long much to your surprise as it was quickly drowned out by the immensely strong orgasm that came from the pressure and throbbing of Davos' knot swelling against your g-spot. Your vision blurring as your came hard around him, tears rolling down your cheeks from how utterly filled you felt as pushed himself further into your soft body to keep his knot from slipping out before he could properly lock in you.

Moaning and panting against your heated skin Davos gently laid you back down onto the mattress, or as gentle as he could be while rutting against you in his lustful state. The room shook at the volume of his growl as he came deep inside of you.

Your eyes searched for his as you both came down from your euphoric highs but his gaze was drawn further down. Curiously you glanced down to see what had his focus and couldn't help but gasp at the sight of your slightly distended belly. Reaching down between you two your fingers lightly brushed the large bulge. Feeling him through your skin made your squeeze around him more drawing out a small whine from your massive boyfriend.

Grinning you pressed down on the bulge making you both moan loudly from the sensation. Giggling from the way he whimpered about you being mean you cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss, you hands combing through his gray hair as he purred and returned the sweet gesture; that is until he shoved his far to long tongue into your mouth and partially down your throat.

Gagging from the sudden intrusion you tug at his hair and pull away gasping for air while he laughs at the deep blush forming on your cheeks "Sorry sweetling, I saw an opportunity and took-" Gasping as you purposely clenched around him in retaliation he quickly dropped his head against your neck and nuzzled you with soft whines "O-okay okay, I'll behave."

For now perhaps, but you knew by the time his knot was deflated enough to come out you'll be covered in his marks.

[chriscalledmesweetie]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

 Dec 26 2024

Nov 8 2024

If you need a laugh, for reasons…

Allow me to offer:

I Am John Watson, I Speak for the Curls

Reverse Psychology

Three Continents, No Compliments

The Wake-Up Fairy

Cocky Locky

X Marks the Spots

Unconventional

Not in Front of the Children

Sherlock and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

Nov 7 2024

Feel-Good Fluff

In case anyone needs this, for reasons:

If You Give Sherlock a Biscuit

If You Give John a Jumper

John is NOT the Little Red Hen

The Three Holmes-Watsons Gruff

Midnight Becomes You

The Story

Biscuits

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Every Song Reminds Me of You

Wizard of Paws

Goodnight Sherlock, Goodnight John

 Oct 12 2024

A match made in heaven, thanks to the generosity of @totallysilvergirl and all of the other amazing writers and artists (like @khorazir @chained-to-the-mirror and @bluebellofbakerstreet, featured above) who contributed to this project.

Sep 8 2024

Sherlock and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

John is away. Sherlock is NOT pleased.

Written by @chriscalledmesweetie and recorded by @juuls for the @pod-together challenge. You can both read and listen at the link above.

Feb 15 2024

But It’s a Ten, John!

“Don’t you dare respond to that text.”

“It’s Lestrade.”

“It could be the queen for all I care. Don’t respond.”

“It might be a case.”

“It could be a hundred cases. Don’t even look at your phone.”

“It’s a locked room triple homicide!”

“I told you not to look. Put the phone down.”

“But it’s a ten, John!”

“I don’t care if it’s an eleven. Drop the phone.”

“The scale only goes up to ten.”

“Sherlock, I am not going to ask you again. Drop the phone or I’m pulling out.”

“Fine. But this fuck had better be a ten.”

Dec 12 2024

Sherlock’s Ugly Christmas Apparel Series

Seven Days of Ugly Christmas Apparel by ChrisCalledMeSweetie How much ugly Christmas apparel can John convince Sherlock to don? With the right incentive, quite a bit…

[Cover Art] for Seven Days of Ugly Christmas Apparel by JL4art (IamJohnLocked4life) [NSFW]

[PODFIC] Seven Days of Ugly Christmas Apparel by Lockedinjohnlock (Podfixx)

The British Government’s New Clothes by ChrisCalledMeSweetie Mycroft Holmes wouldn’t be caught dead in an ugly Christmas jumper.

The Elves and the Brew-Maker by ChrisCalledMeSweetie Mrs. Hudson is determined to bring Sherlock and John together - with a little help from some ugly Christmas jumpers and a wee bit of magic.

Podfic: ‘The Elves and the Brew-Maker’ by ChrisCalledMeSweetie by peasina

Dec 14 2024

When Sherlock first made a proposal Alas, it was not for betrothal He asked John to shoot His brother, to boot Then help with the body’s disposal

You can find all 31 of my Holly Jolly Johnlock Limericks on AO3.

Thanks to @notjustamumj for the December 2024 prompts and to @ghostofnuggetspast and @friday411 for their own delightfully inspiring limericks.

Sep 22 2024

The Murder of Major Sayer by ChrisCalledMeSweetie

Do you want to know what really happened during the fateful week when John Watson first met Sherlock Holmes? John’s sister Harry is here to set the record straight—or not, as the case may be.

Chapter 13:  Secrets Revealed to Sherlock Holmes

I suppose we each have our own priorities when it comes to the secrets we choose to keep. Some people conceal the truth to avoid heartbreak, others to avoid scandal, and still others to avoid prosecution. There may also be times when the fear of one of those evils—for ourselves or our loved ones—may drive us to reveal something we would otherwise have kept hidden.

Many thanks to @bluebellofbakerstreet for the amazing cover art!

Nov 1 2024

Pitter Pat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie

Is the flutter in John’s heart atrial fibrillation? Or could there be another cause?

Created by TumblrTop10

[the-slumberparty]

Naughty or Nice Challenge

For this challenge, you get to choose if you're Naughty or Nice. Below you will find two sets of prompts, naughty or nice, to choose from. While this challenge marks the end of year season, they do not need to be festive in theme, however we do encourage you to incorporate any of your cultural or personal holiday pasttimes.

This is an event for November and December, with a final due date of January 5, 2024 for late submissions.

ℝ𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤

🩷 This challenge is open to all fandoms and characters.

💜 Dark creations are accepted but we will not accept underage, incest, or bestiality. Please don’t forget to add warnings to your works appropriately.

❤️ For written pieces, there are no word count limits, but we do ask that you add a “read more” beyond 500 words.

🩵 We hope that creators can create an inclusive work and encourage writers and creators to use appropriate tagging, ie, f!reader, etc..

💙 For this challenge, we will accept sequels or continuations to previous works. Please be sure to link the original work in your submission.

💚 Creators may submit three pieces of each medium (up to three visual pieces and up to three written pieces)

💛 Be kind to yourself and to others. We are here to support and include each other.

!Tag this blog in your submission so we see it.!

🩷💜🩵Prompts below the cut🩵💜🩷

𝐍𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲

“All I need is you beneath me.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I know it hurts, baby, but I feel so good.”

“What would they say if they knew?”

“You’re going to have to cry a little more if you want me to care.”

“I didn’t ask you to talk. I said do it.”

“Do it or I’ll make it hurt.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?”

“If I have to tell you one more time.”

“If you didn’t want to hurt, you shouldn’t have hurt me.”

“Don’t look away.”

“Smile pretty for me.”

“Enough whining.”

“I’ve been watching for so long, I can’t wait any longer.”

“I saw the way you look at them. You don’t look at me like that.”

“You deserve this.”

“I love how weak you are.”

“If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.”

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.”

“You’re so pathetic it gets me off.”

“I wanna hear how much it hurts.”

“It’s so cute when you try so hard.”

“I want everyone to know who you belong to.

“I better not catch you looking at them again.”

“Sit down and shut up.”

𝒩𝒾𝒸𝑒

“You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“Don’t ever let me go.”

“I dream about you every night.”

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Wait, are you asking me out?”

“I made this for you.”

“You’re going to spoil the surprise.”

“I’ll do it, but it’ll cost you a snuggle.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“You could have just told me.”

“It’ll be okay. I’m here.”

“You forgot something. A kiss.”

“I’ll go with you… if you want.”

“This is the best night of my life.”

“I remember when we met. I’ll never forget.”

“You make my stomach do this thing.”

“I made us a picnic, but it’s raining and I’m lost.”

“Every time you look at me, I melt a little.”

“You’re never going to get rid of me.”

“There is no me without you.”

“You really did all this for me?”

“Kiss it better.”

“I wanna be more than friends.”

“I never hated you. I just didn’t want you to know how much I liked you.”

[misc-obeyme]

CC! CC! omg CEEEECEEEEE

I see kinktober prompts are still open and my other beloved, Mammon is open

May I request sub!mammon with Shibari (aka Mammon is the one being tied up) pretty pls 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

If we’re allowed 2 requests I’ll send one in for flufftober too 🥰 ty ily

Hi Silver!!

Okay okay I loooove shibari. I just think the rope patterns are so pretty??? I definitely did not spend a lot of time scrolling through pictures of it for "research purposes." Nope that is not a thing that I did.

Anyway, this is the first time I've written a scene about it, though, so hopefully it turned out okay!

Thank you for submitting a request!!

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Mammon

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: shibari, penetration (reader receiving), begging

Mammon watched you from where he was kneeling naked on his bed, his eyes roaming over your hands and the rope you held in them. It was a thick black rope, shot through with tiny strips of shimmering gold. Just the sight of it made his stomach clench, a combination of thrill and uncertainty.

When you first suggested this to him, Mammon was worried that he wouldn't be able to handle it. After all, how often had he been bound by Lucifer's ropes? Could he experience this with you now without having flashbacks of those endless hours spent strung up to the ceiling?

And yet Mammon knew it would be different. It was you. He trusted you. He had a hard time saying it, but he really did. And he was sure that you knew it, too. Because of that trust, he had agreed, willing to let you try. He was nervous, but he was also excited.

Already, things were different. That rope you were holding was beautiful. He knew you had chosen it for him, something that you thought would look even better in knots against his skin.

"Are you ready?" you asked.

Mammon nodded.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, you know," you said, clearly picking up on his nerves.

"No," he said firmly. "I want ya to tie me up. I want ya to use that pretty rope on me."

He saw the way your eyes filled with heat when he said these things to you. You nodded solemnly and he could see that you were trying to remain calm yourself.

Carefully and deliberately, you began to wrap the rope around his body. He shivered every time your fingertips brushed against his skin, shifting slightly as you pulled the rope into knots.

It was a slow and sensual process. You kept the rope taut while still keeping it loose enough to prevent damage. Mammon didn't know that you had studied the pattern you would be using, but he did notice the way you tied the ropes to mimic the white markings he had when he was in demon form.

The rope weaved across his body, a stunning symmetry of knots and geometry forming on his chest, around his hips, binding his wrists, and enclosing each of his thighs.

When you were done, you stood from the bed to look at him from the front.

Mammon strained slightly against the tightness that held him and met your eyes, face flushed and cock already erect.

You smiled, reaching out to brush back his hair and caress his cheek. "You're such a beautiful boy."

Mammon closed his eyes and breathed in sharply. He was overcome by his desire, by the sound of your voice, by your words. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself, down at the ropes that held him. They dug in just enough to bring him a sweet hint of pain.

"MC," he said and he flinched at how your name sounded like a whine, he was so desperate for your touch. Your fingertips against his cheek were not enough.

You came closer to him, looking into his eyes and he knew you could see the need in them. You ran your fingers down his neck, letting them trace the lines of the ropes until they finally moved ever so lightly up his cock.

"Please, MC, please," Mammon begged. He was squirming now, unable to hold still, wanting more sensation, but hardly able to move due to the way he was bound. He looked so perfect, his skin flushed, his eyes wide, his mouth open and panting, the rope winding around him so exquisitely.

You shrugged out of your own clothes, which you had kept on up until that point, and knelt in front of him on the bed. You took his cock in one hand and pushed the fingers of your other hand against his lips. Mammon opened his mouth for you obediently, happily sucking your fingertips into it and moaning around them.

You slowly ran your hand up and down his length, careful not to go too fast. Mammon whimpered against your fingers, and he knew he would be begging again if they hadn't been occupying his mouth. It wasn't enough and you both knew it.

You kept this up for some time, turning Mammon into a blubbering mess bit by bit. He was trying so hard to get you to give in, making all the sounds, reacting to every little thing, hoping that you would be overtaken by the sight of him in that rope you had so carefully picked out.

Just as he thought he couldn't take any more, you took your fingers out of his mouth. He was embarrassed by the way the air instantly filled with his voice, first a moan and then a flood of begging, most of which was just your name repeated over and over.

You pushed on his shoulders and Mammon fell back, squirming a little beneath you as you straddled his hips. His bound wrists rested neatly in the small of his back. He saw how your inner thighs were pressed against the ropes around his hips, watched as you sank onto his cock, your hands on his chest, gripping the ropes there.

Mammon moaned, unable to handle the way you looked as you rode him hard, your hands moving all over him, holding onto and slightly tugging the ropes here and there as you chased your pleasure. He arched his back to meet you, thrusting up to help you along, but also to feel you more.

Mammon couldn't think, he could only feel your heat, your weight on top of him, the grip of the rope against his skin, the sound of your heavy breathing and gasping moans.

Mammon couldn't keep his eyes off of you and watching you moan his name as you came above him caused him to lose himself entirely. Even as the ropes remained tightly tied, Mammon himself came undone beneath you.

Later, when the two of you had caught your breath, you would gently untie him, revealing ridged lines across his skin where the ropes had bit in. He shivered as you kissed along each one, the light feathery kisses so sweet against his still hot flesh. And as long as those marks remained, he would absently rub his fingers against them, his mind wandering to when he could next feel you tying the knots of those ropes around him.

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[steviestits]

In The Family Way - Part 1.2

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Argyle/Jonathan Rating: T (E in later chapters) Summary: The Munson family has never had the typical values that most modern Americans have as they find thrill in all that's mysterious and spooky. Steve Harrington, a black widow omega, hadn't known this when he mated with the family's eldest alpha, Eddie, and thought that he'd be another easy mark that he could kill to inherit the millions that Eddie owned. However, not only do all his murder attempts fail, but Eddie actually enjoys them! And to make matters worse, the alpha wants to try for a pup! Steve has to find a way to off Eddie for good, before he gets pregnant and maybe actually falls for the death-crazed alpha. (Addams Family Values au set in the Omegaverse after the events of the movie with Steve as Debbie and Eddie as Fester) Trigger Warning: Attempted Murder as a love language, Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

Unfortunately, the road was clear and Eddie made it to his brother’s house without incident. He supposed there was always the return trip, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed. Though, maybe he could purposely run into a lamp post on the way back, as he knew his darling omega would be upset if his van returned in one piece without a scratch after he went through so much work to ensure that Eddie would get into an accident on the road.

That was for later, however, as right now, his adoptive brother was expecting him, so he got out of his black van then made his way up the dirt driveway and up the stone steps. Eddie still had his key from when he lived here and used it to let himself into the manor. It was much different than the one Steve had picked for them. Not that Eddie disliked the marble walls and pastel-accented furniture as he was happy as long as his omega was happy, only he couldn’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia for the animal heads mounted on the walls or the dark, musty furniture that a rusty spring or two poking out inviting from the fabric.

Eddie made his way into the living room and saw that Grandmama Joyce’s paramour, Hop, was slumped on the couch watching football. It looked violent, but not deadly, so Eddie had only a passing interest. He instead asked Hop if he knew where Argyle was, and the other man released a non-verbal grunt while jerking his head in the direction of the stairs, eyes never leaving the game. Then Eddie thanked him then made his way towards the direction that had been indicated to him, trying not to bother the other any longer.

Climbing up the creaky stairs, Eddie soon heard the loud striking of metal against hollow plastic and knew that his brother was on the top floor balcony. He made his way there, watching as Argyle smacked another golf ball out into the distance with his driver. The two of them used to love coming up here to hit balls at the neighbors. There weren’t any neighbors around the house he shared as the property was so large then had a tall fence that blocked the home from view. Steve insisted that it would be better if there were no witnesses when they bought the manor.

“Ed, old boy,” Argyle greeted him jovially when he noticed Eddie was there. “I wasn't expecting you to come so quickly. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Steve cut my breaks, so I didn't stop at as many lights as usual,” Eddie said as he joined Argyle on the balcony. He picked up a driver then grabbed a ball from the bucket. “But, I was hoping I could get some advice. I want to know how you keep things fresh with Jonathan. You’ve been mated for a long time and are just as in love with each other as the day you two met.”

Argyle moved to the side, allowing Eddie to place down his ball, before he leaned on his club to watch his brother align his shot. “We don’t need to keep our relationship fresh,” he said with a small shrug. “Every day is an adventure with Jonathan.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. “What’s the adventure?”

Lifting the club, Eddie struck the ball hard. It flew through the air, whizzing past the Munson property line into that of their neighbor’s yard and smacked into the ornate, wooden duck mailbox that sat at the end of their driveway. The head of the duck was ripped cleanly from its body then fell sadly into the neatly cut lawn that the neighbor was mowing. He didn’t notice that the duck’s head had fallen and rolled over it with the lawnmower, which caused the small head to get caught in the blades before it catapulted out to bean the neighbor in the forehead, knocking him back while the lawnmower continued without him, taking out a bed of petunias.

“Anything. Everything,” Argyle said, stepping up to take his turn at the tee. “From the children to our work, we never have a dull moment. We complete each other.” He did a practice swing. “But I don’t think you came here to ask about my relationship with Jonathan.”

“You’d be right.” Eddie sighed heavily. “I worry that Steve is spending too much of his time doting on me and not enough time on himself. His every waking moment is dedicated to planning my demise. In fact, the other day, the little minx tried to stab me in public. Public! His appetite for murder is insatiable.”

“No need to brag, Ed,” Argyle said with a laugh. “I’m just happy things are going miserably.”

Then Argyle’s club smacked into the ball, sending it sailing into the neighbor’s yard again. This time, the ball struck the lawnmower, causing it to hit a birdbath and shift its course back towards its owner. The neighbor had just stood up when he saw the renegade lawnmower coming for him. He ran, knocking the mailbox over in the process, but that didn’t deter the lawnmower one bit as it simply shredded the mail that scattered and continued its dogged pursuit of its master.

“As flattered as I am at his numerous murder attempts, he needs to settle down a bit. Take some time for himself,” Eddie explained. “But his sole hobby seems to be pleasing his alpha. What can I do to help him?”

Eddie approached the tee as Argyle mulled over his brother’s problem. He placed a new ball down then whacked it with his driver. The ball sailed again into the neighbor’s hard, hitting him in the back of the head, which caused him to stumble to the ground. Turning around, the neighbor moved to get up, but the lawnmower was already upon him and all he could do was scream shrilly as it neared.

“Maybe he needs another outlet for his attentions,” Argyle suggested. “So much love to give, but not enough graves to dig and whatnot. He used to be a nanny, after all.”

With a nod, Eddie said, “That’s true. I took him away from his work, now he doesn’t have any sweet pups to nurture. Do you think I should see if he wants to go back to being a nanny?”

“If your omega is anything like Jonathan, he would’ve said if he wanted to go back to work.” He snapped his fingers as if an idea had come to him. “That could be the reason that he’s been extra murderous. He could be trying to seduce you into pupping him.”

What Argyle said made sense. They hadn’t had sex like they had on their honeymoon as Steve complained about having to do all the work. Eddie had been practicing, wanting to improve before he acted as Steve’s alpha in a sexual way again. However, if Steve wished to be pupped then he needed to stop practicing and hope that he could pleasure his omega in a satisfying way, one that would result in pups that the motherly omega desired.

“What do I do, though?”

Argyle placed a hand on his older brother’s shoulder and said, “You go home to your omega, and you pup him in the way he desires.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” he replied with a laugh. “And you are right.”

The two brothers bid each other farewell before Eddie walked back down the stairs. He said goodbye to Will and El, who walked by him holding the new pup and a rusty axe, telling them to have fun with their nephew. Then he said bye to Hop, but the other man just grunted wordlessly, not paying Eddie any mind.

Eddie left and walked down the dirt path back to where he had left his van. As he did, he passed a scowling man in shredded clothing, holding three golf balls and the head of a wooden duck, making his way towards the door. He shrugged, supposing to each their own. It wasn’t his place to pry into the other man’s affair, not when he had a van to crash and an omega to pup.

Part 1.1 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1

PS - Extra thanks to @nameless-screamerxxx for letting me use the "So much love to give, but not enough graves to dig" line.

[captainsophiestark]

The Level-Headed One

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 8 Prompt: "Give that to me, before anything happens."

Summary: Obi-Wan and his partner (in life and on this mission) break into a smuggler's den in search of information the Republic needs, when things go a little sideways.

Word Count: 1,262

Category: Fluff

Requested by @ghostofskywalker! Hope you like it Tori!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Missions like these are my favorite," I muttered, smiling up at my best friend and partner, Obi-Wan, as we ducked down a darkened bar hallway, his arm wrapped tightly around me and my arms around his neck. Obi-Wan hummed, leaning down and towards me until we disappeared from the sight of the rest of the bar, when he pulled back.

"They are more fun than rushing into battle on a dusty planet."

I smiled, leaning up to give him a brief peck on the cheek before we both returned our focus to the task at hand. We'd come here looking for information about smuggling routes the Separatists had been using to run supplies past our blockades, but with a cover as two people on a date in a seedy bar. Away from the Jedi Council, on missions in dives like this, were some of the only times Obi and I got to spend as a couple.

Unfortunately, they also often included people trying to kill us at some point or another. We'd just have to keep surviving long enough to get to the other side of the war and retire happily.

"Do you want to take care of the door, or should I?" asked Obi-Wan, both of us scanning our surroundings as we reached the locked door of the club owner's office. If we were right, all the information we could hope for and more would be in there.

I shrugged. "I'm probably going to kick it down, so if you have another way..."

"Hold on."

He closed his eyes, raising his hand ever so slightly as he concentrated and worked through the force. I turned to watch our backs, until I heard the telltale 'click' of a lock unlocking itself.

"You did that by moving the lock from the inside with the force?" I asked, turning to my boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged.

"I've needed to develop that skill more than a few times in the course of the war."

"Still. Impressive."

With one last glance around the hallway, the two of us ducked quickly into the office, carefully shutting the door behind us. I relocked it before turning to take in the room with Obi.

We'd definitely found the right place. The office was a disaster zone, papers, boxes, and filing cabinets scattered everywhere. This was going to be a long, long night.

"I'll take the left half if you take the right half," Obi-Wan deadpanned. I sighed.

"We didn't do nearly enough dancing and drinking in the bar before hand to deal with all this."

Since neither of us knew when an enemy might next appear, we tried to work quickly while still doing a thorough job. I kept one eye on the time, all too aware that every minute that ticked by was another increasing the risk of our death.

I'd been getting jittery as we neared the half hour mark, but Obi-Wan and I had almost made it through the entire room. We'd started at the edges and gradually worked towards the middle and each other, and finally, we'd met at the desk.

I huffed a sigh and popped the top off yet another box and started digging through, until a large, familiar object made me pause.

"Oh boy," I muttered, reaching into the box and pulling out the flashbang grenade. I held it up to show Obi-Wan, turning it over in my hand. "Look at this. Who leaves something like this in a box on their desk?"

"Seedy smugglers who might need to throw one at someone coming in the door?" he suggested.

"Yeah, I guess so." I tossed the grenade lightly in my hand, testing its weight and getting a feel for it. "Interesting."

"Give me that, before anything happens," Obi-Wan said, holding out his hand with a sigh. I rolled my eyes, but dropped it in his hand anyway.

"I'm not going to blow us up, Obi-Wan. I might be best friends with Anakin, but I'm not completely stupid."

He snorted, which made a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. I nudged him with my shoulder as we both continued our search, the feeling of him in the force putting me at ease and bringing a smile to my face even in the middle of a mission like this. A few minutes later, I smiled for a different reason.

"I think I found what we're looking for."

Obi-Wan leaned over my shoulder as I fanned out a stack of documents, all detailing several shipping routes and smuggling runs designed to get around Republic blockades.

"Excellent work," he said, eyes still scanning the information. "Let's take that with us and get out of here, shall we?"

"Neither of you is going to be going anywhere, ever again."

Obi-Wan and I's heads snapped up to find the club owner standing in the doorway, flanked by two burly guards cracking their knuckles. I sighed.

"Two more minutes, and we would've been gone," I muttered.

"Nobody gets away with stealing from me, in my own club, with their lives."

Rather than returning fire with our new enemy, Obi-Wan leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"Can you gather those papers quickly if we were to run?" I nodded. "Good. Then close your eyes and cover your ears."

I turned to give him a questioning look, only to see him pick up the flashbang grenade I'd found and pull the pin, hurling it at the club owner without a second thought. I ducked and covered just in time as it went off before quickly springing into action, grabbing the papers off the desk and following Obi-Wan as we pushed past the stunned club owner and his guards.

We rushed back into the noise and confusion of the club, angry screams following from behind us. Obi-Wan reached back and took my hand as we wove through the crowd, finally making our way to an exit near the back and ducking out the door.

"You got all the papers?" he asked as we jumped into our speeder and he quickly guided it into the sky. I nodded.

"Yes, I did. And I'll absolutely never understand how you got your reputation as the level-headed one."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "It's easy. I got the reputation because I'm constantly surrounded by you and Anakin. And when he dives out a thousand-story window without a plan to catch himself and you run into an ambush with nothing but the force to get you out of it, a little flashbang grenade in a pinch becomes the most rational thing in the world."

I snorted, but he wasn't wrong. I caught him grinning out of the corner of my eye, so I turned to him more fully with a grin of my own.

"So... mission success, but I still think we got run out of that place a little early. Do you want to go somewhere for a little victory celebration before we go back to the Temple?"

"...What did you have in mind?"

"Padmé told me about a jazz club not too far from here."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "You certainly know me well." He glanced at the still-dark sky, then sighed. "I suppose we do have some time. Just tell me where to go."

We shared a smile, blending in amongst the lights of the city as two other people, no Jedi Order or war following us like it did everywhere else. And for tonight, we'd enjoy that escape for a little while, to help remind us exactly what we were out there fighting for.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

The Remnants

Week #11 Prompt: Sunglasses | Word Count: 898 | Rating: T | POV: Karen Wheeler | Characters: Karen, Steve Harrington | CW: Prior Major Character Death (Unspecified Member of The Party) | Tags: Future Fic, The Party, Unnamed Character Death, A Look at Grief, At Loss, Steve Harrington is Still Their Babysitter Person, The Kids Are Home For A Funeral

Inspired by the song Pink Skies by Zach Bryan.

The kids are in town for a funeral. 

Karen has been listening to them move around the basement, getting ready to go. She doesn't want to make them wait, not on her. Not today.

She's touching every surface in her kitchen, every counter, frantic. It doesn't make any sense. They were just here. She's sure of it.

She laid them out with her purse. She swore she did. 

She's yanking open drawers, then slamming them shut, over and over.

"Can I help you find something?"

It's Steve Harrington, standing at the edge of her kitchen.

She's not surprised to see him, because the kids don't want anything from anyone, except Steve Harrington, and she's had to stand back and accept that this isn't something she can fix.

She can't make a pot roast, and let them run wild on their bicycles. Not now.

If Steve can ease any of this for them, in any way, she'll be grateful. 

"My sunglasses," she says. They have to leave, and soon, but she can't go without them. 

Steve pulls his own sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, and hands them over, "Until yours turn up."

Karen takes them, isn't sure what else to do, and lets him lead her to one of the waiting black cars. He's not a kid, not anymore, none of them are, even if she'll always see them that way.

Even as they have to go to a funeral. 

After, Karen watches as Steve Harrington herds the remnants back through her house. All that's left of their little group. The Party. The fuss and fight gone out of them, now. The boys, and later, the girls, that trampled up and down her staircase, excited and loud, are now long grown. Men and women, somehow here in their places. 

They haven't all been gathered together, not all of them, not in years. Maybe not since Ted's funeral. 

Burying parents, that's the stage of life they've reached. It's a rite of passage that sneaks up on you, hard and fast, and often before you're ready. But it's the order of things, to be expected, even when it's a complete surprise.

But they shouldn't be burying each other. Not yet.

And now that they have, now that the seal is broken, they won't ever be whole again.

It's unfair. 

Now, they're silent as they walk past the doorway, and don't even look at the growth chart they all spent so much time and energy trying to be the tallest mark on. 

She listens to them go down the stairs, and maybe it's her imagination, or her failing hearing, but they still sound exactly the same as they did as kids. 

Now, though, the noise stops too soon. One pair of feet too few.

She leans in the doorway. Listens. Hand touching the carved-on piece of wood. The growth chart on the door frame started as Nancy, then Mike. By the time Holly came, all these other kids had scraped their own right alongside her kids. Cheating, standing on tiptoes, so desperate to grow taller than each other. 

The funeral was beautiful, but the kids are all pretty stoic. Like they didn't even notice. They aren't kids, not anymore. But they still feel like her kids, always will. All of them, and now one is missing. 

They've had a practice run at this at twelve-years-old, but then they got a do-over. They learned to believe in magic, to believe in the impossible being possible.

She knows that won't happen again. This time it's for real. One of them is really gone, dead and buried, and they don't know how to act.

She doesn't know how to act.

She's still supposed to be the adult here. The mom.

They'd spread their wings. Flew far, and wide, but always flocked home, together. 

She's pretty sure that won't happen again. They're cleaning the basement, clearing the drawers, mopping the floor. Steve's been up and down a dozen times, digging under the sink for cleaning supplies, then carrying up box after box, taking them out the front door, and she doesn't know where it's all going. 

Just that it's already gone.

The basement, their safe space, can't go on with one missing. Won't.

So, they're closing up shop. 

And she's having to watch from afar. Only getting kernels of secondhand knowledge from her daughter's ex-boyfriend. 

It's a strange life they've all lived.

But once they got past that, she thought they'd made it. That they'd all be fine. 

That she would eventually go first.

She wishes she could go back to the start. When Mike was so little, and just meeting Dustin, Lucas and Will for the first time. When they were just old enough to ride bikes down the driveway, and then later, out of sight. Not to be seen until the streetlights came on again.

Kids don't roam like that now. Her grandkids sure don't. Their parents, far too well aware of what can go bump in the night.

She listens.

It's quiet, too quiet, down there. 

She misses the sounds of screaming, tumbling dice and curse words they weren't supposed to be saying, but did anyway when they thought they could get away with it. 

She settles in her chair, and gets poked in the thigh. She reaches down, and her sunglasses aren't lost. 

Just broken. 

Just like everything else here today.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

Bricktober day 6- Flag

@lesmis-prompts

this kind of got away from the prompt a little but yeah. i know nothing about Azelma as I haven't read the brick yet Enjoy

___________________________

The first thing she sees, opening her bedroom window that morning, is a flag. 

The french flag, bloodstained and bullet-holed. Written across it in black ink are the words ‘Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite!’ and in the bottom corner is a tiny doodle of a magpie. 

She knows, then.

Silently she dresses and walks down. Crosses the road and keeps going. Left, right, left again.. 

There is a bustle of people here, but when she turns the final corner all is silent. 

The streets are scrubbed clean but she can still see the blood in the edges. She looks up and sees their oh-so-glorious leader hanging out of a window. Dead, evidently. In one hand he holds a red banner that flickers in the wind. A bottle lies smashed on the street below. 

That answers that question, then. She continues slowly down the street until she comes to where a mass of bodies are laid out neatly on the cobbles. Someone has clearly moved them. 

She looks along the corpses, marking their names off a mental list. She met all of them, one way or another. Finally she comes to the one she expected to see. Gavroche, her brother, lying there with holes in his shoulder and his chest. His blue eyes staring sightlessly up. 

She watches him for a long minute, half convinced he’ll jump up any second laughing. ‘Fooled you, ‘zelma, didn’t I?’ He would say. Of course, no such thing happens. Carefully, she folds his hands over his chest and closes his eyes. 

She is about to leave when she sees the last body. Auburn hair streaked with blood. A red stain marring her white shirt. She stares for a second or two, her mind not quite processing yet. Eponine. Eponine her beautiful, lively, protective sister.

She really should have expected it, to be fair. Eponine was always following Marius around, never mind how many times she had told her not to, that a man who doesn’t notice you is not a man you should want. Eponine had never listened, of course she hadn’t. 

She does the same thing she had done for Gavroche, closes her sister’s eyes and folds her hands. 

After that she pauses. It wouldn’t feel right to just leave them. She digs around in her pocket until she finds a few pieces of chalk. Then, she kneels and begins to draw. 

She is nowhere near as good as Gavroche was, but she’s not bad. In ten or so minutes she’s sketched a magpie holding the flag in its beak. She lets herself admire it for a heartbeat then goes to writing. Labelling each of their names above their heads. She won’t have them forgotten, not if she can help it. 

Mabeuf. Bahorel. Jean Provaire. Bossuet. Feuilly. Courfeyrac. Joly. Combeferre. Gavroche. Eponine. 

She turns away and goes through the battered doors of the Musain. Up the stairs and she sees Grantaire and Enjolras. Enjolras is half out of the window and Grantaire is slumped against the frame. Their hands are just barely touching and two bloody handprints mark where they stood, one on each wall. Carefully she writes ‘Enjolras and Grantaire’ above their heads then goes back down. 

One last thing to do before she leaves. In her best writing she scrawls some words above the magpie. Then she takes one final look at them and walks away. The last Thenardier, for all intents and purposes. 

She leaves Paris. She couldn’t stay, not with Gavroche’s grin haunting her around every corner. She returns for one day each year, June 6th. On that day she goes to the Musain, which soon became a thriving cafe once more. She looks at the street, goes upstairs and looks at the handprints, then leaves. They left Enjolras’s flag there, red against the cafe’s brick walls and green sign. 

On her second visit, two years later, she notices a photograph hanging in the cafe. It shows clearly the dead bodies surrounded by her magpie, carefully named. Their names are on the little sign underneath the photograph as well. She is glad. It almost makes her smile reading the words she wrote that day. 

“Here rest Les Amis de l’ABC. Friends of the Abased. They were heroes. Let their names be remembered and their story told. Let the flag of freedom wave from your windows. 

Let their death mean something.” 

[shipmistress9]

Omg I'm so excited for all of these!

I will humbly ask for literally any of your riorgail prompts!

Riorgail - mast. Overst.

Riorgail - Ball Prompt

Riorgail - reciprocating

I want to know about them all but you pick which one you want to tell us about most! 😊🤭🖤

🥰 Thank you so much for this ask!

And I happy talk about them all. 😁 starting with the Ball Prompt because it's the only (more or less) sfw one. 😆

So, I don't really have anything written for this one, only a rough outline. I came up with this one before IF came out and we all (or was that just me? 😆) thought that all those who fought in Resson would be officially marked as traitors by Navarre, with Violet being the exception, pretending to have been tricked, and now works as a spy for the rebellion.

The idea behind this was that there would be some ball, maybe a mascarade, on neutral ground. And that would be where Violet and Xaden meet again after months of being separated, unexpectedly. And that they mustn't be seen together or Violet’s already crackling front would break entirely. They can't talk, mustn't even be seen looking in each other's direction, when a) they should use this opportunity to exchange information and b) really want nothing more than to dance with each other.

It's just these vibes of intense longing in a public place that would observe them thoroughly and the can't make even the slightest mistake, you know? 🥰 fun fact: i even already had planned out a dress foe Violet (which my 9yo drew a picture of for me) and was ecstatic when Violet actually wore a dress in IF. 😁

Now to the NSFWs

The mast. Overst. One was a kinktober short I originally planned to write, but that didn't really lead anywhere for me. It started with a similar setting as mentioned before, Violet alone in her second year at Basgiath and missing Xaden when she has to pretend she hates him. It boiled down to her fingerfucking herself while imagining being with Xaden.

But then it turns he was equally desperate for her and covertly made it into the forests around Basgiath (don't ask me how nobody notices Sgaeyl flying in 😆) He can't go into Basgiath, too dangerous, but hides right below her window. First, he just uses their mind connection and his shadows (shadow tentacles ftw 😇) to pleasure her. Later, he forms a shadow image of himself that let's him feel everything, too, so they can fuck 'for real'. And since they're so starved for each other, they go far beyond what they could usually take, don't want it to end. Basically just pure pwp/magical phone sex. 😆

My breathing hitches, and I press a hand to my mouth. “You’re really here? At Basgiath?”

“Yeah. I can’t risk being spotted, but at least…” A shadowy hand rises to my cheek, and I lean into his almost-touch, my eyes falling shut as I imagine it’s him for real. “Gods, I miss touching you. All the things I want to do o you…”

“Oh?” A smirk tugs at my lips. “What would you want to do?” 

I hear Xaden’s low laugh in my head, and the sound warms my heart. “Well, I’d start with kissing you. Fuck, those soft kissable lips, so tempting, even when you’re angry.”

I run my fingers over my lower lip and smile. “I want to kiss you, too,” I say, settling back onto my bed. “Want to feel your body on top of me, nearly crushing me, and feel your skin beneath my fingers, feel all of you.” 

I get the impression of Xaden cursing under his breath and grin. 

“If I were with you in your room now,” he all but purrs. “I’d kiss every bit of skin I can reach. I’d start with your fingertip, your knuckles, then your palms. Your wrists, all the way up to your shoulders. Your neck. Gods, I want to taste your neck again, feel your pulse thrum against my tongue. I’d kiss that spot below your ear, you know the one that tickles but in a different way.”

A pleasant shudder runs through my body at his words, imagining what he describes, that sharp sting of pleasure this one spot elicits. My fingers are a poor substitute for his mouth as I retrace his route, but they’ll have to be enough.

“And then I‘d kiss your mouth,” he continues. ”I’d only let my lips glide against yours at first, catching your breaths, before letting my tongue glide along yours. Moving with you, claiming every corner of your mouth.”

With my eyes closed, I follow his descriptions, my mouth moving along with imaginary lips. “If I had you here with me now,” I play along. “I’d have my fingers roaming through your hair. Scraping over your scalp. I’d suck on your tongue, teasing what I could do to your cock.”

“Fuck, Violet,” he groans. There’s a pause, and I imagine him pulling back to look at me, eyes blown wide with want. “What are you wearing?”

It’s an unnecessary question with how he could actually see me through his shadows, but I play along. “I’m still wearing my armour,” I reply truthfully. It became something of a habit. “Do you want me to take it off?”

“Yes.”

I smile at the breathless tone in his voice. “Do you want to watch?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes”

______________

Reciprocating is the only one from this list I actually plan to finish at some point. It's the night after the throne scene in IF. Violet pays Xaden back by sucking him off, taking her time to edge him and driving him a little insane with it. There's also some more talking and emotions involved.

Peppering the bulge in his underwear with light openmouthed kisses, I can’t help but grin at how he stirs beneath, how his breathing quickens, even in his sleep. I know the effect I have on him, he assured me many times. But seeing it so clearly, especially after his declaration earlier, still hits differently.

He’s mine. Xaden Riorson is mine, and not just for this night, not just within these walls. He’s mine, forever, just like I’m entirely his. No matter what happens, what other truths might wait for us, this will never change.

I keep nuzzling and fondling his cock and balls through his underwear until he’s hard and a tiny wet spot appears in the fabric. I’d expected Xaden to have woken up by now, but unless he’s more patient than I thought and a very good actor, he’s still asleep, only the occasional groan rumbling in his chest. Somehow, that thought makes another kind of warmth spread through my chest. That, even asleep, he knows and trusts me enough to not wake up, that there’s no need for him to defend himself. Even when I pull down his waistband enough to free his cock, his eyes stay closed, his body somewhat relaxed, only the softest of gasps falling off his lips as I wrap my fingers around him, stroking lightly.

With my lower lip tucked between my teeth, I watch Xaden as I move my hand along his length. Every rise of his chest as his breathing turns harsher, every twitch of his brows, how his lips move without forming words. My own pulse quickens when he hardens further in my grip, another drop of pre come forming at the tip. I’m tempted to lick it off but hold back for now, instead swiping my thumb over his head.

“Ngghh… Violet…”

I freeze at Xaden’s mumbled voice and glance back up at him, expecting to see his eyes open. But he’s still asleep, his head turned to the side, a low string of moans and gasps followed by my name again his only reactions. Is he… dreaming about me?

A slow grin spreads across my face. It’s not as if he hasn’t said so before, but this is still different. Further boosting my confidence Cat tried to crush so hard.

Aaand that's it. 😇 Again, thank you so much for this ask. Revisiting these unfinished stories was a lot of fun. And maybe the motivation I needed to write more.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Window to the Soul

Wyll's story, growth, and mental health issues as seen from his own eyes. Literally.

Written for @thekindredcollective's Wyllstravaganza prompt 13: Redemption.

WARNING: This story deals with Wyll's issues of depersonalization, particularly with his tendency to refer to himself as "the Blade" instead of a person. Paired with his line about how he wanted MC to know him as the Blade and not Wyll Ravengard, I interpret this tendency as one of the many ways in which Wyll dehumanizes himself (like how no one can ever be collateral damage instead of himself, how he cares so deeply about everyone except himself, etc), by seeing himself as a hero figure and an object rather than a person. So, there is one excerpt in which Wyll refers to himself as "the blade" and uses the word "it" to refer to himself. To be clear, my intent here is to show how bad his mental state is at that point, because Wyll deserves better, NOT to dehumanize him myself. But I'm leaving a warning if it's a trigger for anyone, especially Black people who might be triggered by seeing a Black character refer to himself that way. This particular excerpt will be marked by a "~" instead of the normal "*"s of the rest, in case anyone wants to skip it.

The boy with stars in his eyes ran across the shore, successful as always in his eternal mission to find wonder in the world. “Papa, papa!” he said, “I saw a mermaid!”.

In every corner, a new discovery lit them further up. Mermaids. Shells. The sea, the breeze. Each greeted with a new exclamation and a wider smile, as he met his very first love: the world, and his city.

*

The son with scars over his eyes clawed at his own throat, trying to speak past the sounds of his own choking. He had tried everything. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t write, couldn’t show him. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop crying.

Couldn’t do anything other than nod and obey when he heard the most fateful word of his life.

“Go.”

*

The Blade of Frontiers, with fire in his eyes, slashed his way across the Sword Coast, getting rid of devils, wrongdoers, and the unjust. He delighted in seeing towns get a little livelier and a little better when he left than they had been before he arrived, and savored the relief he felt at seeing that he was still worthy of some people’s trust.

The world was still full of wonders, even if most of them weren’t for him.

*

The Blade, dull in the eyes, felt himself at odds with the sharpness of his blade. He still didn’t regret it, but - so much has been lost. He no longer had a city. A family. Friends. Dance partners. Sometimes, it felt like everything that made him human had been stolen away.

But if he wasn’t human, what was he? He refused to be a fiend.

The answer was glaringly obvious. Right there in his name - for he no longer had the right to call himself by the name his father gave him, so Blade of Frontiers would have to do.

If he couldn’t be himself again, a weapon he’d become.

~

The blade, with a tracker for an eye, never stayed. Its care, like its blasts, was best delivered from a distance. Anything that caught its eye could catch hers, and it’d never be forgiven if it hurt those it was meant to protect, just because it wanted to feel a comforting touch again.

It blasted, and cleaved, and slashed, and bled.

And then it left.

~

The farce with a tadpole in his eye couldn’t help but stay in the Grove. He was helping, he reasoned. They needed help.

Besides, soon it wouldn’t matter anyway. The tadpole was a death sentence, and a quick one, too. He didn’t risk staying, not really. So he could, maybe, have a place to come back to for the last days of his life. Children to play with, to teach. One last group of people to ensure the safety of, while he hunted down his new mark and prepared to die.

He just had to make sure he’d be far away from the Grove before he officially became an “it” again.

*

The warlock with kindness in his eyes sheathed his blade. He would not hurt those he was meant to protect. If that meant he would be the one hurt instead, so be it.

He always liked the idea of being a shield better than a blade, anyway.

*

The monster with the Hells in his eye stayed at the edge of the party, observing the piece of the sea that touched their little camp.

It was still just as wonderful as the first time, even if a lot more lonely.

*

“I won’t pester you for details, but believe me, I will be there by your side, whatever comes.”

“I’m glad you saw me for who I am. And - and I think I can see you for who you really are, too. A hero.”

“You may look like a devil, but you’re one of the most noble men I’ve ever met.”

And Wyll, with tears in his eyes, for once felt right.