#just gonna tag a handful of the fandoms in here there’s no way I’ll get all of them

[doomedpuppetyuri]

Hey guys look at my banger desk setup

[runraerun]

-> Part 2

**NOW WITH ART!

(Everyone go shower @stervrucht with love & reblogs because she is a treasure to this fandom and her generosity knows no bounds🖤thank-you bestie!)

AO3 | WC: 7.8k | Rated: E | CW: Internalized homophobia, references to the death of a parent, lots of swearing and general vulgarity from the both of them. Drug usage. Discussions of trading sex acts for drugs. Billy being an asshole but hey what’s new. | Tags: ADHD Eddie Munson, Semi-closeted Eddie, Fully-closeted Billy, One-Sided Steddie (or is it? We don’t know because of unreliable narrator reasons) Bully Billy Hargrove, Bullied Eddie Munson, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Eddie calls Billy ‘m’lord’ in here god help him, Happy Ending, some angst sprinkled throughout, but overall quite fluffy.

(Title is inspired by a song of the same name by Chromeo.)

Summary:

“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, his icy-pop blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the end of his stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”

But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”

“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white smoke between them.

Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.”

Billy Hargrove stands there, half-smirk on his face, hips tilted forward. Like he’s God’s fucking gift. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

And that.

Well.

Eddie isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell isn’t that. 

Or, Billy tries to pay for drugs by offering to let Eddie blow him.

Of all the mugs Eddie expects to see in his neck of the woods, the one attached to Billy Hargrove, resident bad boy slash heartthrob with a notoriously short fuse and a mean right hook, is not one of ‘em.

The fact that he’s alone isn’t much of a comfort, but it’s… well, it’s something. It means if Billy’s planning on jumping him and stealing his stash, then at least Eddie’s got a shot at running and actually getting away with all his teeth intact.

Eddie sucks back on his cigarette, grateful he has something to do with his fidgeting hands as he eyes Hargrove’s approach. Tries his best to keep still—something he’s always been absolute dog shit at. Even as a little kid. They tossed words at him like Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity ’til the cows came home. Never changed anything, though. Mom always just called it ants in his pants. For Uncle Wayne, it was worms up his butt. All said in love, of course. Eddie was ant and worm-free, far as he knew. Just had a lot of energy is all. And a lot to say too. That isn’t a crime! But right now, under Billy Hargrove’s slow approach, he tries his damndest to get all his ants and his worms to settle down. No sudden moves in front of ticking time bombs.

“You’re Munson, right?” Hargrove asks in a low, slightly nasally voice. He’s stopped a few feet from the picnic table that Eddie’s perched on, his canister of goodies sitting unassumingly beside him.

Eddie fights his nerves—bulldozes over them, more like, and smiles wide, holding out his arms in a display of showmanship. “The one and only.”

Billy scoffs as his eyes travel around the clearing. Doesn’t seem too impressed by the ol’ Munson razzle-dazzle. “You alone out here?” he asks, eyes finally returning to Eddie’s.

Eddie shifts, leaning forward slightly—literally on edge. Why the hell did he have to say that so fucking ominously? “I was ‘til you showed up,” Eddie answers.

Billy hums noncommittally and doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s looking Eddie up and down. Sizing him up. Double-checking to make sure Eddie’s not a threat, maybe. Eddie fights the urge to duck his head and pull his shoulders in to assure Billy that he isn’t one. He’s a lover, not a fighter. In theory, anyway.

“Now what can I do for you on this fine evening, Mr. Hargrove? I don’t keep everything on me…“ Eddie trails off before he continues, “But I got anything you’d want.”

Billy snorts, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“You’re from Cali, right? I got weed from there. Stuff that tastes like blueberries,” Eddie leans forward and bounces his brows, “I got some shrooms from the coast too that could even knock someone like you on your ass. So, what’re you into, Hargrove? What’s your poison?”

Billy’s got an amused look on his face. He’s smirking, but no part of it’s warm or welcoming. It sets Eddie even further on edge than he already had been. “You sure know a lot about me.”

Eddie shrugs, feigning innocence. He takes another pull from his cigarette. “It’s a small town; people talk. Especially around people like me. Y’know, the kinda people who don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And you, Billy Hargrove, you’re, well…”

Eddie bites his tongue before he continues to embarrass himself. Clears his throat instead, tries to think of something not entirely stupid to say, but the words rush around his noggin so quickly that he can’t seem to catch and pin down any one of ‘em.

The forest floor crunches under the sole of Billy’s heavy black boots as he takes a slow, purposeful step forward. “I’m what, freak?”

Eddie swallows. Feels the hair on the back of his neck stand. Jesus, does this guy ever blink? Fucking blue-eyed people and their zombie stares…

He smiles despite his nerves. Then, with a tilt of his head, he answers. “You’re hard to miss.”

It’s grounds to get punched, Eddie knows. Innocent as the comment is, Eddie’s been hit for less. Shit, he got shoved into a locker for looking too long that one time in middle school. Spent the whole fucking lunch break with no one but his ripe gym socks to keep him company. So yeah, maybe Eddie’s a little jumpy around jocks like Billy Hargrove who look like they could fold Eddie into a pretzel without breaking a sweat.

Billy doesn’t look like he’s gearing up to punch Eddie, though. Not yet anyway. He just looks sort of… amused.

It’s getting late. The sun’s low in the sky, and every few seconds it catches on Billy’s earring or his chain, both temporarily blinding him. Eddie doesn’t let his eyes wander, though. He’s got enough self-discipline for that at least.

“I’ll take some of that blueberry kush,” Billy finally says, checking over his shoulder one last time before he flicks his head towards Eddie. “But I don’t got any money. Not until Monday. I’ll have to owe you.”

“Sorry pal,” Eddie leans back, palms against the flat of the picnic tabletop. He blows the smoke from his cigarette up towards the sky. “I don’t do I.O.U’s.”

The air shifts between them. Eddie can feel it. The blue-eyed zombie stare darkens, and Billy takes another step forward until his hip nearly knocks up against one of Eddie’s bent legs. “What? You don’t think I’m good for it, pal?”

“I don’t know you, man,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. He always hates this part of the job. He’s been a punching bag on and off for most of his life, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta like it.

“You just went on and on about how you did.” Billy spits, and Eddie flinches as it hits his cheek. He doesn’t dare raise a hand to swipe it off though, lest it be interpreted as a move to strike.

“Look, I can hold it for you until Monday, but that’s the best I can do.” Eddie offers, but it’s not enough. He knows it’s not even close to enough. Guys like Hargrove aren’t used to being told no.

“C’mon man, there’s gotta be some deal you can cut me. I just wanna have a good fucking night. You can understand that, can’t you, Munson?” Billy asks, his voice going soft. Smooth. Breathy.

And even though his insides are fucking liquifying in real time as he does it, Eddie shakes his head, his long hair curtaining his face as he does. “Can’t do it, man.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just beat the shit out of you and take your shit anyway, huh? How about that?” Billy asks, his bottom lip caught between especially sharp-looking teeth. Eddie looks up, his dark eyes lock onto Billy’s salt-water blue ones. Stormy fucking seas. Eddie sure as hell doesn’t want to get beat up tonight, but if he starts cutting deals and giving special treatment to everyone who threatens him he’d be intimidated right out of business. And he needs the cash. Can’t leave all the bills to Uncle Wayne.

Before Eddie can think up a clever answer, Billy’s got his head thrown back, and he’s cackling. “Shit, I’m fucking with you, dude. Put that face away. I swear, no one in this fucking town can take a goddamn joke.”

Eddie doesn’t bother defending himself, just takes his cigarette from his mouth, knocks off the ash and gives a shaky exhale before putting it back between his lips. He barely starts in on his next inhale when the damn thing is plucked out of his mouth.

Lightening fast. Eddie hadn’t even seen his hands—but there was his cigarette, half-smoked, between Billy’s lips. Eddie feels his face heat at the idea of Billy’s mouth being where his own was, just a second before.

“Ha ha,” Eddie mutters, his eyes narrowing. He’s feeling somewhat brave, despite feeling distinctly like a mouse that’s being battered by a cat's paw. “Very cute.”

Billy tips his head, accepting the comment as if it were a compliment. He doesn’t give Eddie his dart back though—the guy just keeps smoking it with a swarmy fucking grin on his tanned, well-proportioned face.

Because the truth is that Billy is easy on the eyes. Nice to look at. It’s entirely counteracted by the fact that the longer you look at that aforementioned face the higher your chances are of getting a knuckle sandwich sent hurtling your way… but Eddie’s still got functioning eyeballs. He can see that Billy’s… well. Beautiful.

In a weird way, though. Like how Eddie pictures the elves from Middle Earth might look.

Fucking ethereal and shit.

“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the cherry of that stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”

But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”

“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white between them.

Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.” He sighs.

But Billy doesn’t ‘spit it out’. Instead, he shifts weight from foot to foot, looking suddenly agitated again. Billy sniffs and scratches his nose with the nail of his thumb. Like he’s tweaking. Eddie waits him out. Curiosity officially piqued.

Finally, after doing his little dance, Billy leans forward, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

And that.

Well.

Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

The shock is written all over Eddie’s face, he’s sure. He’s never been good at concealing his emotions—an open book, his mom called him. Shit liar, is what his dad called him. Either way, he knows the surprise of what Billy’s offered up plays across his face by the way Billy’s eyes dance around it, looking pleased.

“What?” Eddie squeaks out, face suddenly on fire.

“You heard me,” Billy snaps, “I ain’t sayin’ it again.”

Eddie blinks, looks away from Billy Hargrove’s icey freeze-pop eyes. It’s no easy task. “You’ll let me…?”

Eddie motions towards the crotch of Billy’s exceptionally tight jeans. Jeans that leave very little to the imagination, Eddie might add.

Billy grins, his pink tongue caught between his teeth as he leans back, jutting his hips out a little.

“I’ll let you,” he confirms. Standing there like he’s God’s fucking gift.

Though he’s got very little air left in his lungs, Eddie gives a weak scoff. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

And for the first time tonight, Eddie does feel at risk of being sucker punched. Billy’s eyes flare, and just like that his beauty melts into something ugly. Like a spell is cast over him—beauty to beast. “I’m no cock-sucker.” He spits out.

In a show of surrender, Eddie raises his hands. “I didn’t say you were. I just—usually when someone is offering sexual favors it’s… Y’know what? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’m not—I don’t trade in pleasures of the flesh, ‘kay? That’s not what I’m doing here, Hargrove. It’s cash only.”

But Billy’s either got a hearing problem or a comprehension problem because he rolls his eyes and just keeps on bartering. “Fine, I’ll give you a handjob. After my blow job.”

Now. Eddie isn’t a prude. In fact, he’s probably something of a pervert if his porno of choice is any indication of that, but this—with Billy?

Eddie’s spent this entire interaction scared fucking stiff, and now Billy’s offering to go and get him into an even more vulnerable position—with Eddie’s pants literally around his ankles?

“No.” Eddie aggressively shakes his head, sending his curls in motion. No no no. Fuck no. As hot as Billy is—no. The decision is final. Take it or leave it, Eddie thinks stubbornly. Heels successfully dug in.

Billy sighs through his nose, takes a step back and chuckles dryly to himself. “I know you’re a queer, Munson. Don’t—!” Billy snaps, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face when he dares open his mouth to deny it, “don’t fucking lie to me.

Eddie swallows, promptly shutting the fuck up.

Is he really that obvious…?

Billy continues, “I know you’re a queer. I saw the way you used to look at Harrington, back when we were all in school together. Gym class,” Billy leans forward, back in Eddie’s space, their shared cigarette bouncing between them as he speaks, “the showers. Remember?”

It’s been a year since Hargrove and Harrington both leap-frogged him out of Hawkins High, diplomas in tow. A full year, but apparently Billy’s got a fucking photographic memory. Eddie feels his t-shirt stick to his back, slick with sweat. “Whatever, man. It’s not a crime to look.”

“It is in this shit hole of a town,” Billy chuckles, dark and humourless, “so you get it now? I know you like dick. And I like pot. So, let’s work something out, here, Munson.”

Billy claps his hands together between them, loud and jarring. “Time’s a’wastin’, amigo!”

Jesus this guy…

“Even if I did like dick,” Eddie tilts his head and scrunches his nose, “it doesn’t mean I want your dick, Hargrove.”

“A dick’s a dick, man. And trust me, I got a nice, big fat one for you to choke on, trust me, you’ll love it,” Billy laughs as he speaks, watching in amusement as Eddie rubs a hand over his heated, blotchy face. “C’mon, you’ve sucked cock before, right?”

The simple answer is yeah, a couple of times. Every time it ended pretty much the same though. With him being shoved off after they’d finished. Being told they weren’t gay, that if Eddie were to ever tell anyone about the encounter they would deny it, call Eddie a liar, or worse, beat the shit out of him.

He’s not a dummy; Eddie knows being queer in Hawkins is a risk, so it made sense to want to keep it hush-hush. Eddie’s the rumoured gay kid, so if you’re gonna experiment with someone, why not let it be with him? But after a handful of times being treated like trash—something people needed to wash their hands in Javex from after simply touching him—he stopped. It didn’t feel good.

“You don’t gotta answer. I already know you have.” Billy mutters, smug. “Mouth like that.”

There’s no way Billy knows, but Eddie ducks his head, tired of how this entire fucking conversation has him feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Tired of how the darker the sky gets, the brighter Billy’s eyes seem to turn.

And what the fuck’s wrong with Eddie’s mouth..?

“Cash only,” Eddie repeats. Monotone. Suddenly overstimulated as fuck.

Billy finally pulls the last bit that he can from the cigarette, down to the butt, before he flicks the remains of it into the grass. He gives one final, frustrated exhale of smoke. “Fine. Jesus, Munson, you drive one hell of a bargain. But I’ll sweeten the deal for you, alright?”

“Jesus, Hargrove, are your ears not working? Or did you get hit one too many times with the basketball during your jock days? I said I’m not interested. In your cock or your hand or whatever else you try and offer up.” Eddie exclaims, voice going high with strain.

But it’s like the more worked up Eddie gets, the more Billy wags his fucking tail. He’s all lit up, shiny white teeth built for puncturing. He gets back to crowding Eddie—Eddie, who’s one hair’s breadth away from raising his hands and shoving this smug asshole away from him, not caring if he gets his ass kicked as a consequence, but then Billy’s talking again. And Eddie… Eddie’s listening.

“We could kiss a little,” Billy drawls out, angling his mouth towards Eddie’s ear. He lets his voice drop to a low rumble, his words vibrating in that wide chest of his. It sends a chill down Eddie’s spine. “Y’know, make out. You got a van, right? Nice and private. You’d like that.”

Eddie turns his head towards Billy, so close they’re nearly touching each other. His mouth hangs open, slack, but Eddie can’t get a fucking word out. His whole fucking life, all he’s ever heard is ‘Jesus, does this kid have an off switch?’ ‘Eddie, give mommy’s ears a break, please,’ ‘Eddie is very disruptive in class with his constant chatting’. And now he can’t make a single goddamn sound!

Billy, on the other hand, seems entirely pleased at rendering the great motor-mouth-Munson to a mute. “I’m a good kisser, too.” He adds, eyes dropping down to Eddie’s mouth. Like he’s gonna do it right here and now. Eddie’s throat clicks when he swallows.

The embarrassing part is that, well—Except his Mom and his Meemaw and his weird cousin that one time, he’s never… y’know. Been kissed.

Sucked cock? Sure, yeah. That ship has sailed. Sayo-fuckin’-nara.

But kissing? On the mouth? Romantically? It hasn’t happened for Eddie yet. Not that any of what Billy’s propositioning here is in any way romantic, of course, but…

Eddie watches as Billy darts a pink tongue out between his lips, wetting them so that they glisten. Jesus Christ. How can he say no to that? Rules or no, Eddie’s only fucking human. Does he not bleed if he’s cut? Does he not get hard if he’s presented with an absolute fucking smoke show like Billy Hargrove offering to make out with him? All for the low low price of his dignity and a couple of ounces?

“You… actually want to?” Eddie frowns, counter to the nervous smile that’s pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Billy clicks his tongue and shrugs a shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon for like, the hundredth time. “What I want is for you to cut me a deal. That’s enough, ain’t it?”

No, is Eddie’s knee-jerk answer. It’s not enough. Not even close. But, maybe the first kiss fantasy he’s got built up in his head wasn’t ever gonna happen. Especially not for someone like Eddie. He’s probably lucky. Billy’s hot. Willing. And Eddie’s… well, there’s not exactly anyone lining up at Eddie’s front door for the pleasure of his company, let’s just say that.

He feels himself nodding before his brain has even had a chance to catch up. “Yeah. Fine. Okay.”

“Yeah?” Billy grins, canines flashing, “Guess I should’ve started with the chick stuff first, huh?”

Chick stuff? Eddie makes a face. Suddenly emboldened, he shoves a hand against Billy’s shoulder, which just makes him laugh harder. “Don’t be a shithead, Hargrove, or deal’s off. Got it? I’ll walk, I swear to Christ!”

Billy doesn’t agree nor does he disagree, he just leers after Eddie like a fucking bonafied weirdo. And as someone who’s all but cornered the market on being a bonafide weirdo, that’s saying something. He hops off the picnic table, scooping up his lunch box of goodies as he does, not daring to turn his back on Hargrove. “I’m parked just through here.”

Eddie starts towards his van, stealing glances over at Billy as he trudges on after him, only a step behind. Just enough to make Eddie nervous. “Don’t you have like, a job?”

“Two of ‘em, actually.” Billy answers, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Why?”

“How do you not have any cash on you?” Eddie asks, blunt as always.

Billy stiffens, just a little. “That’s none of your business, Munson.”

Eddie raises his hands in yet another mock surrender, “sure, whatever. Remain a man of mystery, I don’t care.”

Just seems stupid, is all. Billy must be fucking terrible with money. Probably spends it all on his obnoxiously loud car. Eddie doesn’t voice any of his many theories though. Billy’s covered in live wires, and Eddie’s not overly eager to start touching and testing ‘em.

The woods aren’t especially dense, but it’s new growth—the old forest chopped down a few decades back and left to grow back all weedy and skinny. There’s lots of branches to duck under along with dirt holes to roll your ankles in. Eddie knows his pathway like the back of his hand by this point, but Billy; not so much. There’s a bundle of eye level branches that always used to smack Eddie in the face when he was focused on his footing, so he makes sure to turn and holds the offending branches back for Billy so he doesn’t totally eat it.

Thinking back, maybe it’s a weird thing to do for another guy, but Eddie’s radar for what’s weird and what isn’t has been busted since he first got cut out of his mom. Always difficult, even back then.

So yeah, Eddie doesn’t get a thank you, or whatever—instead Billy just eyes him with an air of suspicion as he ducks under Eddie’s arm. Like he’s waiting for Eddie to let the branches go or something. Who knows.

Either way, it’s the last great hurdle before they’re back at Eddie’s van, which is right where he left her; parked in the middle of the small gravel lot behind the watershed. Nobody came back here, especially not at night.

His hands shake when he takes out his keys, feeling Billy’s eyes on him. Briefly wonders what kind of mess was waiting for them in the back, but whatever. It’s not like Billy’s expecting The Ritz.

He gets the doors unlocked, and because he’s a gentleman, he holds the door open for his hook-up.

Despite his nerves rattling around under his skin, Eddie gives a little flourish for good measure, holding out an arm for Billy to take. “After you, m’lord.”

Billy scoffs, blue eyes rolling back in his head. And as dim as the light is, Eddie swears he can see two pink spots form on the apples of Billy’s cheeks. He counts it for a win.

“You’re so fuckin’ weird.” Billy mutters as he crawls into the back of Eddie’s van, pointedly ignoring Eddie’s offered arm, the whole thing shifting with the heft of him.

“Wow, y’know what, Hargrove, I had never heard that one before.” Eddie says, hot on Billy’s heels. He swings the door shut behind him.

The back of Eddie’s van is pretty spartan, but only because he’d just finished using it to lug a shit ton of gear to and from a Corroded Coffin gig. What’s left behind is a couple of ratty blankets, some old sweaters, a scattering of sheet music and some candy bar wrappers. It could be neater, but overall it’s not terrible.

Billy sits with his back to one side of the van, his legs spread, knees bent. He sits like a man. One used to taking up room and not apologizing for it. Eddie backs himself up against the opposite wall of the van’s interior, knees bent to his chest, legs crossing at his ankles. There’s not much light back here, but Eddie’s eyes adjust quickly to spot Billy’s agitated-looking face.

“Well?” Mr. California barks, one of his legs begins bouncing restlessly. It shakes the whole van.

Eddie swallows, “well?”

“Where’s the weed?” Billy asks.

Oh.

Right. Wake up, Munson.

Eddie scrambles to get his feet back under him before he squeezes his upper half into the front of the van, reaching into the glove box to grab a baggie.

“Here y’go.” Eddie winces as he pulls himself back through. He sits on bent legs, closer to Billy now. He bestows upon him the sacred sandwich baggy of goods. “Premium blueberry kush, 100% indica. So it’ll mellow you right out. Not that you need to chill out, of course, but, y’know. It should, in theory, help with that scary vein you get in your forehead sometimes.”

Billy glares at Eddie as he swipes the bag out of his hands, the scary vein threatening to make an appearance right there and now. He turns that glare toward the bundles of dried herbs.

“You got a bong or a pipe or somethin’?” Billy mumbles.

“Duh,” Eddie scoffs, breathing entirely too hard, “Why?”

“What’d’ya mean, ‘why?’ To smoke this shit with.” Billy gives the baggy a few vicious shakes in front of Eddie’s face.

Eddie feels his eyes cross as he follows the weed. “Right now?”

“Unless you feel like rollin’ it.” Billy shrugs, sounding like his already thin patience is beginning to wear even thinner.

“No—uh, I just thought you’d wanna smoke at home or whatever.” Not with Eddie.

A crease forms between Billy’s eyebrows as he frowns. “What, you don’t wanna smoke with me, Munson?”

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, “hey, I’ll smoke with anyone—“

“Then shut the fuck up and get the bong already!” Billy shouts, fuse burnt down to the quick.

And if there’s one thing about Eddie, is he responds well to yelling. Or, not well, per se, but shouting always seems to snap him out of whatever fog he’s in. It works on him. So, yeah, he responds. Jumps to attention. His mom used to have to snap her fingers in front of his face to ‘bring him back’, she said. No one else seems to bother with that sort of gentle touch with Eddie though, except Uncle Wayne, but he usually just gives Eddie’s hair a tussle instead of a snap.

So back to the front he goes, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting the old girl up while he’s there so that they’ve got some music to fill the silence. And if memory serves him correctly, Billy’s got pretty decent taste, music-wise.

When he sits back down, bong in hand.

“Ta-da!” Eddie sings, holding the contraption up by the neck to Billy in victory, careful not to tip it over. Billy looks entirely unimpressed as he grabs it out of Eddie’s hand and slots it between his thighs.

Lucky bong.

Billy starts grinding up some pieces between his fingers and packing the bowl with a familiarity that Eddie can respect.

Technically, it’s still Eddie’s weed that Billy’s prepping, since he hasn’t exactly gotten payment for the pot yet, but… maybe Billy needs the vapour courage before he can face the idea of kissing another dude. Of kissing Eddie.

Eddie watches from behind the hair he’d let fall in his face as Billy lights the bowl, inhales, and takes a hit. It’s sort of pretty, the way he slowly exhales the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Away from Eddie.

Then the bong is being pressed into his hands. Eddie’s turn.

He takes a rip, then another one once Billy’s taken another hit of his own, and that’s all it takes for the both of ‘em to get laid out on their asses. They end up flat on their backs, the round part of their shoulders touching, both staring up at the ceiling of the van, with rolled-up sweaters and blankets under their heads in the way of makeshift pillows. They’re the kind of high where time feels like it’s barely moving. Something made up. A concept. Like there’s a very real possibility that Eddie and Billy have been lying here for an eternity, and then some.

And Eddie still hasn’t gotten any kisses from Billy.

But he also hasn’t gotten any punches by Billy either, so there’s that…

“You ever seen the ocean, Munson?” Billy murmurs in a voice that’s gone a little rough thanks to all the smoke still floating around the van. Now successfully hot-boxed. Drawing out their high.

Eddie’s arms feel heavy. “No.”

Billy turns his neck to look at Eddie like he’s re-evaluating his idea of him paired with this new, disappointing information. Eddie turns his head away from Billy, just a little, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “Never even left the state.”

Small town, trailer trash… that’s probably what Billy thinks of him. Billy, who’s been everywhere. Especially compared to Eddie. He expects to get laughed at, but Billy keeps surprising Eddie. He just looks… bummed out.

“You’d probably hate it,” Billy states, sure of himself, eyes dancing across Eddie’s face. “You’d burn right fuckin’ quick. Get sand all up in your shorts. D’you even know how to swim?”

“A little.” Eddie means to say defensively, but it comes out as little more than a sigh.

“Not in waves, though, I bet. You’d end up swallowing your weight in seawater before I hauled your ass out,” Billy’s smiling at the strange little fantasy where Eddie’s tormented by the elements. Eddie’s giggling along too, though he’s entirely unsure as to why.

“A crab might even,” lighting fast, Billy reaches over to punch the barely-there roll on Eddie’s stomach, “get’chya.”

Eddie yelps—or maybe he squeals. He can’t be sure. Either way, whatever sound he lets out isn’t in any way charming or cute. Which; no surprise there. Instinctually, his hand’s gone and encircled itself around Billy’s wrist, but he’s too fucking blitzed out to do more than just squeeze it, trying to appear threatening. Sort of tough when you can’t stop fucking giggling. “Stop, stop—I’m gonna piss myself, dude.”

Billy’s got his tongue caught between his teeth, laughing along, low and rough in his throat, but to his credit (and probably a desire not to be covered in piss) he releases his hold on Eddie’s stomach.

They settle back on their backs, one Metallica track leading into another. It’s the only way Eddie can be sure the clocks haven’t all stopped entirely. Proof the passage of time is still in working order. He exhales in relief, staring at Billy’s profile.

For someone so fucking scary, he’s got deceptively cute features. An honest-to-Christ button nose, along with some ridiculously long eyelashes. Golden ringlets fall around his face. Freckles too, all over his cheeks. Even a Cupid’s bow. When Billy fell from heaven, he didn’t hit like, a single ugly branch on his way down.

Eddie blinks before his brain catches up with what he’s looking at; Billy, staring back at him. When did Billy turn his head? How long have their eyes been locked? A second? A year? Time’s fucking with him so hard, Jesus…

“M’not really an outdoorsy kinda guy.” Eddie admits, unable to keep from smiling.

Because of the weed.

Billy gives a lazy snort as if what Eddie had just said was the understatement of the year. “That’s weird, because you kinda look like a bug.”

It shouldn’t make him laugh as hard as it does, but Eddie feels the rumble of it in his chest, and he can’t help but let out a series of very unflattering sounding laughs. Billy’s not laughing along, but he seems entirely entertained by Eddie’s fucking display.

When he finally catches his breath, Eddie indignantly squeaks out, “How do I look like a bug?”

“Because,” Billy flicks his chin towards Eddie’s face, teasing half-smile still firmly in place, “you got them big buggy eyes.”

Eddie blows a low-energy strawberry, rolling his eyes before they land back on Billy. Can’t seem to take his eyes off of him for long. “I’ll have you know that my ‘big buggy eyes’ are my best feature.”

Billy narrows his eyes, clearly amused. “You think so?”

“I know so. It’s what everyone tells me.” Eddie widens his eyes to drive the point home.

Everyone being his mom when she was still alive, and… well, just his mom. But she was a real smart lady. And like, super pretty. A total knock-out. She knew about this sort of thing. He remembers how she used to go on and on about his big brown puppy-dog eyes, about how they’d break hearts one day. And no one, especially not Billy Hargrove, can take that away from him. Even if it is something all moms say to their funny-looking kids.

“Well, everyone’s lying to you,” Billy says, in that casually cruel way of his.

Eddie drops his jaw in an exaggerated show of the offense. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Billy confirms, smug. A true blue asshole; through and through. “Your best feature’s your lips, no question.”

And. Well, no one’s ever said anything about his lips before. Not his mom, not his hook-ups—no one.

They’re just… lips. Not especially big or small. Kind of right in the middle. They’re even kinda chapped right now.

“Gee, thanks.” He murmurs, from lips that Billy Hargrove apparently approves of. Maybe even likes. His fingers twitch at his sides, palms growing sweaty.

Billy just looks away, like Eddie’s caught him doing something wrong. Caught him being nice. Guess it probably hurts the ol’ bad boy image to compliment other boy’s lips. Eddie resists the urge to raise one of his hands and feel along the ridges of his mouth, to map ‘em out. Try and figure out what Billy likes about them enough to say it out loud. He’s buzzing with the compliment.

“So, you still want… y’know, payment or whatever?” Billy asks, keeping his words to little more than a low murmur between them.

The song playing through the speakers stops—a brief pause before it leads into the next one. It’s deathly quiet in those tense few seconds.

Eddie doesn’t answer Billy right away. He can’t. So instead, he just… lets the questions hang between them. Because the thing is, God help him, he does. And yeah, maybe he didn’t plan on his first kiss being with big bad Billy Hargrove—maybe instead of golden curls and freckles Eddie had envisioned dark, fluffy hair and a splattering of moles. Big brown bedroom eyes instead of sharp, icy blue ones. Either way, he’s way out of his depth. Out of his league. In fact, Eddie should be on his hands and knees thanking Billy for even considering sucking face with a guy like him. He should be psyched. And he is!

Fuck, this weed is making it hard to keep his thoughts linear. He stares back at Billy, realizing suddenly that he’s been waiting for an answer to his question.

“Nothing is ever free, Hargrove,” Eddie answers, cryptic, even to his own ears, “you should know that.”

Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? Nobody just does shit out of the goodness of their hearts. Everyone expects something in return. Everyone’s gotta pay the piper. And if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. So yeah, Eddie gives what he can, but he also takes what he can get. Same as Billy, Eddie suspects.

Billy’s got a real perplexed sort of look on his face. Golden and tan, even in the cold, sterile light of night. His eyes momentarily dart to Eddie’s lips, just for a split second. But split second or no, Eddie’d caught it. The tiny motion sends his beat-up little dime-store heart all a’flutter. Billy likes these lips.

“Close your eyes,” Billy tells him, voice cigarette rough.

Eddie does it, trying to keep his breathing even. Shallow, so he doesn’t puff hot air in Billy’s face when he approaches. His hands lay limply by his sides, with his hair splayed around his like some expanding ink blot on the floor of his van.

He has the sudden and quite frankly embarrassing image of Snow White lying dead in her glass coffin, pale-skinned and raven-haired, waiting for a kiss of her own.

It’s so stupid that he ends up snorting.

“What? You think this is funny, Munson?” Billy growls, voice sounding like it’s still to the right of him, but that he’s propped up on an elbow or something.

Eddie shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. A smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth, totally beyond his control. “No, no, it’s stupid. I. Just—fuck. Sorry. Forget I did that.”

“If you think this is stupid, then I can go. I don’t need this shit—“

”No! Stop—“ Eddie reaches out and grabs the front of Billy’s shirt, his eyes popping open in panic. “You’re not stupid—I’m… shit, you’re gonna laugh.”

“Just tell me, shithead.” Billy snaps, face getting more and more red as his temper rises.

“Fine. Jesus.” Eddie squirms under the intensity of Billy’s gaze. All hard edges and intimidation now. Eddie’s only had the Billy that tickles him and tells him nice things about his lips for a fucking millisecond, but he already misses him.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before, alright?” He blurts out, quick like a bandaid.

And with that, Billy’s eyes go a little funny. The icey shards in his eyes melt back to tumultuous waters. “Seriously?”

“No, dude, I’m lying about being a total loser with no game.” Eddie snorts, emboldened by his buzzing high.

Billy frowns, “Aren’t you like, two years older than me?”

“Look, I had opportunities, okay? But mostly… It was, y’know. With girls. Pretty ones, too!” his brows shoot up, attempting to emphasize the point, “but I just… I never wanted to.”

Billy’s stone-still while he listens. Looking like he’s hanging off every word that Eddie’s stumbling over.

“So, you can’t even fake it?” He asks.

Eddie blinks, suddenly lost. “Fake what?”

“Liking chicks.” He answers quickly.

“Nah,” Eddie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “I’m a shitty liar.”

“Poor bastard.” Billy mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he clicks his tongue, “That’s a real tough break, amigo.”

Eddie’s shoulders twitch. “I get by.”

A corner of Billy’s mouth turns down and he tilts his head like he’s allowing Eddie some small, indiscernible mercy.

“I just feel bad,” Billy says, low and smooth, “you starting at the very top like this. Everyone else after me is gonna feel like a major fuckin’ letdown.”

Eddie snorts, looking up at Billy, who’s got himself propped up on an elbow and is sort of hovering above him. “Big talk, Hargrove.”

Canines flash. “Well I got a big game, Munson.”

“You’re a real cocky b—” Eddie’s words are smushed back into his mouth when Billy suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Eddie’s.

Billy’s got a hand against Eddie’s neck, the pad of his thumb against the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up just so. Eddie can hear his heart thundering in his chest, white noise overtaking For Whom the Bell Tolls.

His first kiss.

It’s warm and soft. Drier than he expected it would be. The stubble of Billy’s moustache scrapes against his upper lip, sending shockwaves up and down Eddie’s spine. Billy smells like cologne. Or maybe that’s aftershave—he can’t tell. Eddie fills his lungs with it, breathing deeply through his nose.

The thumb resting against Eddie’s jaw begins stroking along his cheek. Delicately. Like Eddie’s something fragile. Precious, even. He’s gone all tingly everywhere Billy touches him—like magic.

It’s about this time that Billy parts his lips, sliding a tongue along the seam of Eddie’s mouth, gentle prodding—like he’s looking for a weak point. Somewhere to gain entry.

Or maybe he just wanted to taste Eddie’s lips.

Hey, can’t a guy dream?

Billy shifts his weight, further encroaching into Eddie’s personal space, his broad shoulders caging over top of Eddie’s narrower ones. Then Billy raises a leg and swings it over before letting his hips drop over top of Eddie’s own. It’s like touching a fucking live wire. He can’t help the way he reflexively gasps and bucks up into the solid bulk above him. And sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph… he’s rock fucking hard in his jeans. When did that happen?

Flood gates open. Billy—clearly emboldened by the discovery of what he’s doing to Eddie’s body—deepens their kiss by sticking his tongue down Eddie’s throat. The sensation is weird as hell—Eddie’s only ever had his own tongue in his mouth, but there Billy’s is, swirling around, dipping in and out as the sound of their smacking lips fills the van, harmonizing with Hammett‘s insane, face-melting guitar solo.

There are teeth involved now too; Billy’s biting Eddie’s lower lip and pulling, stopping right before it gets painful. It brings sounds out of Eddie that he’d never heard himself make before. Didn’t even know that he could make. All breathy and moany. Maybe he should be embarrassed about how loud he’s progressively getting, but it’s hard to think straight when Billy’s slowly grinding his hips down against his. And Billy’s—fuck, Billy’s hard too. That’s gotta be what that is, right? Jesus H. Christ…

Their hips move in tandem now, the same way their tongues seem to. It’s like Eddie’s body just knows what to do. It’s fucking incredible. He’s never been naturally good at anything in his life. Nothing comes easily to Eddie Munson. Every talent he’s got has been hard-fought, earned through blood, sweat and tears.

But this… Eddie might actually be kinda good at this.

Or maybe Billy’s just a really good teacher.

He’s a cocky asshole, but Eddie fears he might have been serious about everyone else being a letdown after him. Because how the hell is anyone else going to compare to this? To Billy Hargrove. Mr. California King. Eddie could swear he’s glowing right now—like Billy’s spent so much time laid out in the sunlight that a couple of rays got trapped just underneath his skin. Dude can’t help but shine.

Yeah, he’ll be a tough act to follow.

But that’s another Eddie’s problem. Future Eddie. Meanwhile, the here and now Eddie, is getting kissed. He’s got Billy’s big arms wrapped around him, like Eddie’s somehow worth something to someone like him.

Down south, there’s just the right amount of pressure on his denim-trapped dick. He can feel the line of Billy’s own cock bump against his own when he pushes hard enough. He could fucking weep. It’s almost too much—too good. Too perfect. What’s he gonna do with himself now that he knows he could be doing this? God, how’s he ever gonna jerk off when this—when Billy… oh fuck-!

His orgasm hits him like a goddamn freight train. The switch on his brain had gone off and it didn’t even have the courtesy of letting him know!

Eddie’s jaw drops open, mid-kiss, and he pants—moans—into Billy’s mouth. His hips go stiff, stuck in its lifted position, trying to drive upwards into Billy as hard as he can. He can feel himself shake all over as the waves crash over him, one after the other in quick succession, nearly whiting out his vision. He shuts his eyes as he finally comes down on the other side of it, releasing a choked-sounding exhale.

He goes limp. Boneless. Buzzing and tingling and vibrating all over. Waits for the feeling of mortification to overtake him. It should be here in 3… 2…

“Did you just…?” Billy asks, lifting his own hips to examine the scene of the crime. Eddie imagines the wet spot steadily growing on the front of his jeans, a little off to the left, is pretty hard to miss.

“Holy shit, you did,” Billy chuckles, slightly awed sounding, “you just creamed your fuckin’ pants.”

Eddie whimpers. The sharp contrast of absolute bone-deep humiliation paired with the fluttery, intensely content feeling he's still got working its way through his nervous system is enough to make his head spin.

“Sorry.” Eddie blinks his eyes open.

Eddie didn’t think it was possible for Billy to look any more smug than he did before, but somehow, he’s achieving the impossible.

“Don’t be,” Billy insists, a chuckle still at the edge of his words. He grunts a little as he rolls off of Eddie and drops down onto his back. Taking up his previous position of laying shoulder to shoulder next to each other. “I take it as a compliment.”

It’s kinda sweet of him. Because what happened was embarrassing. No two ways about it. Shooting off like that, like Eddie’s some horn dog who can’t control himself?

But, well, if the boot fits…

Billy reaches down and roughly adjusts himself before sitting up. Gentle touches all used up for Eddie, apparently. Then he lifts his ass just enough that he can slide a hand behind him to retrieve a crumpled-looking box of Marlboro reds. Shakily, Eddie sits up too, engaging muscles that still feel jello-like.

Billy knocks out a cigarette and puts it between his lips. Then he knocks out a second one, and without asking, puts it in Eddie’s mouth. Billy leans forward, and Eddie mirrors him—still just trying to keep up—moving until the ends of their cigarettes line up. Billy ignites his lighter, temporarily blinding them both, but he holds it in front of them, and they inhale in tandem.

Smoke fills Eddie’s lungs. The familiar, soothing burn in his throat makes him feel a little more solid. Present. It makes what just happened all the more bewildering.

They smoke in silence.

Well, except for the music from his cassette still humming from the speakers. Billy mumbles something about loving a certain drum solo, but other than that, it’s crickets. It goes on like this until their cigarettes are half their original size and Eddie finally grows a pair.

“What about you?” He murmurs around his dart.

Billy exhales a stream of smoke out of his nose, looking like a sick ass dragon before he answers, “What about me?”

Eddie flicks his chin towards Billy’s general direction. “You wanna get off too?”

Billy just snorts and shakes his head, like Eddie had said something prosperous. “Nah.”

A pit forms in the center of Eddie’s gut. Souring any of the leftover post-nut happy chemicals that were still rolling around his noggin. That sting of rejection. The knowledge that Billy doesn’t actually want someone like Eddie touching him. Like Billy’s itching to go take a shower and wash all the Eddie-cooties off of him, before heading back to his actual life. Like being with Eddie is something embarrassing. It’s a sinking fucking feeling, one he knows no post-high buzz or cigarette is going to touch. Sometimes Eddie forgets that he’s just a detour. Never anyone’s destination point.

“Maybe next time.” Billy mumbles, so low that Eddie almost misses it entirely. He finishes his cigarette before stuffing the butt of it into one of the many makeshift ashtrays Eddie’s got kicking around back here. Then he starts making his way to the back doors, slipping out into the Indiana night.

Next time.

The words echo in Eddie’s head. Bounce off the walls, does couple of cartwheels, spins. The letters get all scrambled up before he’s able to make sense of them.

Next time.

“Pleasure doing business with you, California.” Eddie hollers out a split second before Billy can close the door.

A half-smile forms on that Cupid’s bow-tipped mouth. Pretty as a picture. How did Eddie never notice before? And how’s he supposed to think about anything else?

“See you around, Eddie.” He purrs, knows exactly what he’s doing, Eddie’s sure of it—then slams the door shut between them. He’s engulfed in darkness again. His eyes are back to their unadjusted state, while specks of nothing flit across his blackened vision. He gnaws on his bottom lip to keep the laugh that’s threatening to bubble up from his chest at bay.

Next time.

—

Permanent Tag List: (dm me if you’d like to be added or removed—OR if you’d only like to be tagged for specific ships. ie, ONLY Steddie or ONLY Harringrove, etc.)

@stervrucht @dame-zoom-a-lot @lawrencebshoggoth @morallyundefined @thepossummoldypasta @wheneverfeasible @sanctumdemunson @chaotic-waffle @bookworm0690 @lifelessstar

[sheerfreesia007]

Photographic Evidence

Title: Photographic Evidence

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 891

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, murder

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Part Two: All In The Details

He stares at the scene in front of him with a soft frown painted across his face, his eyes darting around the blood trails that lead to their victim who’s splayed out on display in a haphazard way. He’s trying to memorize the scene but there’s just so much to take in that it’s near impossible for him to do. Turning to one of the patrol officers he barks out an irritated question.

“Is CSI on the way?” he snaps and the patrol officer widens his eyes slightly before quickly nodding his head as an answer. Sighing loudly he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his hip out as he takes in the scene once more.

“Don’t get your panties all twisted, I just got here.” comes the sarcastic tone from behind him and he feels his chest lift with happiness at your arrival. He turns his head to watch you set your CSI case on the floor next to the patrol officer before you quickly survey the scene in front of you. He always loves to watch you work, your attention to detail and how meticulous you are in your work was what originally drew him to you all those years ago when he was a patrol officer.

“Well get in here I need my favorite CSI to document the scene.” he says eagerly and slightly impatiently causing you to roll your eyes at him. He grins knowingly at you as you scoff before taking out your camera and begin to take pictures of the scene. He watches you as you slowly move about the room snapping photos of everything so that the Homicide detectives would be able to see everything even after the scene was cleaned up. He begins to unconsciously follow you around the scene, carefully stepping where you step so that he doesn’t disrupt anything. He knows you can feel him behind you as he follows you, almost becoming something akin to a shadow.

“So now I’m just your favorite CSI?” you ask him teasingly over your shoulder and he scoffs softly at your joke.

“Darling, you know you’re my only CSI.” he responds to you as he steps closer to you needing to feel closer to you. “No one can compare to you.” he whispers in your ear and you send him a bright happy grin before you wink at him as you raise your camera to your eye once more and snap another picture. He feels the happiness burst in his chest at your lowkey flirting before he turns back to the scene. “So do you see anything that jumps out at you?” he asks curiously, wanting to see you saw something that he hadn’t picked on yet.

“Nothing yet Detective Hwang.” you tell him softly before turning swiftly only to come face to face with him. You huff softly at his proximity and press a hand to his chest to push him back out of your space. He frowns softly and leans against your hand making you plant one of your feet behind you before you look up at him. He smirks down at you suddenly and you scoff softly at him before rolling your eyes. “Give me space Detective.” you warn him and his smirk widens at your words.

“You weren’t saying that last night sweetheart.” he teases you softly so that only you can hear.

“Not at work.” you scold him and guilt flashes quickly across his mind before he nods his head and takes a step back to let you pass him. But as you pass him he leans down close to your ear to whisper into it sultrily.

“What time are you gonna be home tonight CSI Hwang?” he watches delightedly as your cheeks heat with a pretty blush.

“Hopefully six. But if you keep pushing it right now I’ll make you wait.” you answer him scornfully and he smirks wickedly at you.

“You wouldn’t dare after last night.” he teases you and you roll your eyes at him.

“Keep it in your pants Hwang. We’re working.” you remind him hastily and he chuckles softly.

“Unfortunately.” he responds before moving back over to the victim as a bloody shoe print had caught his eye and he wanted to take a closer look at it. “Hey CSI Hwang? Can you take a photo of this for me? I need to know the shoe size.” he asked before turning to look at you from his crouched position. His eyes took you in as you walked over to him and pulled out an l square ruler from your vest and placed it down next to the shoeprint before moving back to take the picture a few times before removing the ruler and taking some more pictures.

“Alright, the other CSIs should be on their way to come collect the evidence here. I’ll get back to the office and start downloading the photos for you.” you informed him and he nodded his head as he stood up and turned to you. “See you later Detective Hwang.” you said teasingly to him and he smirked before pecking a kiss to your cheek quickly.

“See you at home darling.” he replied before turning back to the scene already as his mind began to race with possible ideas of what had happened to the victim.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp (Valentino x reader x Vox)

synopsis: When you get called to talk to your boss you didn´t quite expect for things to go this way, but you know you can´t complain.

warnings: DUB CON (Val using his poison), reader working for Val, smut, threesome, p in v, blowjob, afab reader

word count: 1.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @madiomadonnasanta

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @saradika

Being liked by your boss probably is never a bad thing. Especially in the industry you work in. Usually. Or perhaps it´s the opposite. Either way, today… Today might be the day you grow to regret being your boss's favourite employee.

You barely have enough time to walk through the front doors of the studio and lay off your coat in your dressing room, when Kitty approaches you.

“Boss is calling for you.” She says in a monotone voice.

“Alright, you can tell him I’ll be right up.” You answer promptly.

The assistant nods and then closes the door to leave you to your own thoughts. Whatever it was Val wanted, it couldn´t be that bad, right? He was always good to his favourites after all. Fixing up your hair and putting on a robe, you look into the mirror one last time. Then, with a sigh you leave to the lounging room upstairs.

With a wildly beating heart and damp palms you knock on the large doors, waiting to be called in.

“Ah, there you are, love.” Valentino says and pulls you into the room by the heart-shaped metal ring of your choker.

“What did you want to see me for?” You ask, following his lead to the middle of the room with arched eyebrows.

“There is something I want you to do for me. You see my friend, Vox, here… He just told me that he would love for us to share you.” He purrs into your ear.

Your breath stutters for a moment. On one hand, all you want to do is make Valentino happy, but on the other hand, the way Vox was eyeing you up and down made you highly uncomfortable.

“Val…” You look up at him with all that uncertainty mirrored in your eyes only to have it met with an unpleasant look from his red ones.

“Come on, little bird. Don't you want to see us happy?” The moth demon coos against your lips.

Promptly after the tip of his tongue slides against your slightly parted lips to open them further. Slipping into your mouth to entangle your own tongue in a kiss. You know better than to resist him and the longer you kiss, the more your doubts are melted away by his pheromones. By the time you part, the worries are entirely gone and Valentino´s smile became a lot more relaxed.

“So, what do you say? Are you gonna make Vox´s wish come true?” He asks again while tracing your jawline.

“Yes, Valentino.” You sigh.

In turn he pats you on the head. “That's my favourite girl.” Val leads you by the hand to sit between him and his fellow Overlord, who immediately lets his hands wander over your sides and play with the belt of your robe.

“You always did know how to pick a pretty girl.” Vox says over your head to Val.

But you can't find it in you to care about it through the haze of the poison. A gasp leaves your mouth as your robe is opened promptly and a gust of air passes over your bare body. Though there is not much time for shock. The moment Valentino slides the fabric off your shoulders, Vox pulls you to straddle his lap. His hands dig into the plump flesh of your ass, making you whimper willingly. At the same time Val connected his lips to your neck, licking, kissing and lightly sucking on all the sensitive spots of supple skin.

As the pheromones spread further through your body, so does an overwhelming heat that brings your palms to Vox´s shoulders in order to stay upright at the same time as the TV demon's own wander up and down your sides. Driving you to lose your mind with the simplest of touches. Each previously unwanted spark multiplied a hundred times. Forcefully.

From behind, Val's arms wrap around you, his chest pressing against your back, as nimble fingers wander over your thighs to the belt buckle around Vox’ hips. In the blink of an eye the clinking of the buckle sounds through the room followed by the sensation of fabric being pulled barely out of the way and you being pulled onto the TV demon's cock. The surprisingly cool tip teases along your wet slit, spreading around the juices that have been collecting there. The next moment the other set of hands pushes you down onto the hard length by the shoulders.

The action, as simple as it is, draws out a raspy moan from you and a deep groan from Vox that rumbles throughout his chest. A second clinking of metal is heard from behind you. Val´s pants pool around his ankles and he as well positions himself to the side again. One of his hands trails upwards to the back of your neck, grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail to turn your head towards him. There is no need to say what he wants, one look at the self-satisfied grin and you lean down to wrap your lips around the length as far as you can take it in comfortably. Only to immediately be pushed down further. Supressed gagging sounds joined in with the wet slapping from between your thighs where Vox was slamming his hips into yours and the deep groaning sounds from both demons. As well as your own helpless moans at their rough handling. Each of them fucking into you with reckless abandon and no care for your pleasure. You just let yourself be guided in whichever direction they want to have you in.

Valentino is the first to come. Holding you down with your nose pressed against his pelvis until there is no breath in your lungs. Pulling you away forcefully once his seed stopped spurting down your throat. A desperate gasp of air fills your hurting chest, though you don´t have much time to focus on that pain as your attention is promptly stolen by Vox, whose hips begin to stutter in their thrusts and whose sharp fingers dig deep into your skin to leave behind their marks.

“Fuck those tits are hypnotic. So gorgeous.” His low voice rumbles in his chest. Still to be felt where you hold onto at his shoulders.

A few irregular rolls of his hips later the tv demon fills you with his cum as well. Back arching and head pressed back into the cushion as he empties himself inside of you with a groan, his voice taking on a static tone for a moment.

You barely get enough time to let Vox ride out his orgasm, when Valentino commands your sole attention again, by turning your head towards him with a long finger under your chin.

“You did well, amor. Now clean yourself up and get back to set.” He purrs, stealing a kiss from your lips before handing you the dressing robe and leads you a few steps closer to the door.

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 5

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairings: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: R

Tags/Warnings: cunnilingus! face riding/nose riding! mild daddy kink, switchy dynamics, bratty behavior, general snarky banter, boss x assistant relations, mild size difference kink, Hoffman being characterized as a slutty bisexual New Jersey dilf

Summary: Picks up immediately after part 4 where Hoffman is at your home and you “get comfortable” with him.

Author’s Notes: This is a recent birthday gift to myself but you all may enjoy too lol

“You’re so demanding, you know?” you grumbled, though mostly in jest, as you watched Hoffman flop onto his back on your bed. The impact of his mass made the frame creak ever so slightly and the silky beddings flutter.

He looked too comfortable—you had to roll your eyes at how smugly content he made himself—suit jacket long since peeled off with care. He left the suspenders, belt, and tie mostly intact, knowing you had a weakness for such accoutrements (and plucking them off). You could even picture the little sock garters tucked up under his pants.

“Demanding? I need somewhere to lay back if you’re, uh… hoppin’ on.”

“I have a perfectly good couch.”

“Baby, you know I’m too big to lay back comfortably on the couch.” He knew what he was doing in saying that. He was getting under your skin, burrowing deep into you.

“You’re spoiled,” you tutted harshly with the tiniest of grins.

“You’re so mean, sweetheart. You gonna be mean to your boss?” That dumb amusement dimpled up the sides of Hoffman’s face.

“Yes, because you wouldn’t fire me. You would never. Besides, you love me being mean to you, you pervert.” You hiked up your fitted skirt (too familiar a motion with him) as you began to crawl atop him.

“Oh do I?” He plucked at the exposed garter straps hooked into your stockings.

“Yeah, you pig. Surprised you never thought to just hire a dominatrix.”

“Such a tongue on you. You’re a little extra this evening, huh? Be nice to Daddy. Anyways, you know how expensive dommes are? And they don’t even do paperwork!”

“Ah, so what I’m understanding is I deserve a raise.”

“I’ll make a case to the captain,” Hoffman huffed, sneering lips teasing with attitude. His wide palms spread, smoothing up from your thighs to your backside. “Now, why don’t you get comfortable?”

You inched your way up, trying to gently settle your thighs over his shoulders, on either side of his head (though it wouldn’t matter how gentle you were in a minute).

Hoffman fidgeted his thick fingers into the hem of your underwear, lowering them down for just enough access before you took your seat. “Go ahead, baby. All the way. Fuckin’ smother me.”

You rolled your eyes at his excitement, endearing as it actually was.

You were immediately met with that stupid, pointed nose pushing right into your clit, and those fat, whore lips sucking and kissing into your folds, prying at the entrance. You also realized you were somewhat vocalizing these observations, as you felt Hoffman groan into your pussy at “fat, whore lips”.

He detached momentarily to speak, twisting his face for just enough room to breathe. “You got a way with words, darlin’. Jesus. You make me sound like a slut.”

“You are. Keep eating.”

You felt the muffled “Yes, Ma’am” vibrate through as you pressed yourself harder against your boss’s face. His voice had enough of a soft but harsh rumble that you wished he was able to say more… But his tongue was becoming too engaged for that.

The position was just right—pristine, even. Hoffman curled his tongue deep into you, lips still sucking, as if he was ardently trying to swallow down a thick milkshake. You ground down so roughly on his nose in an up-and-down manner that gave you that sweet, intense build up. The friction, the heat… So delicious.

Part of what drove you further was the idea of him lapping you up like a begging dog, despite his upper hand with authority and size. No, you were taking the reins here.

His large hands fluttered all around, but often revisiting your ass for a secure squeeze and the extra bit of encouragement to press more weight upon his face.

Hungry, frantic, so eager to come, you rutted fervidly against his nose until you felt like you were going to see stars. The warmth and the wetness came as you let out a satisfied groan. You couldn’t help but twitch at the remaining waves of your orgasm, only spurred on by the sensation of Hoffman lapping up your release. You slid off his face, settling back down on his chest.

Saliva slicked and gleamed down his chin, across his smirking mouth. He licked his tongue around the mess left on his face as if it was frosting off a cupcake.

“Is this the part where you kick me out?” he joked, face still flushed in a haze.

“Hmm, maybe. I can’t let you getting too comfortable.”

Hoffman slid his hands up over his mostly exposed chest, tracing the scar over his left pec. “I suppose I can’t convince you otherwise?”

He did look good, all dark, solemn features wrapped in formal wear spread out on your pastel sheets… His scent of cigarettes, Drakkar Noir, and a hint of garage grease intermingling with your own… But you had to keep him on his toes.

And at any rate, whatever it was going on wasn’t serious enough to imply he should stay. But… it wasn’t entirely out of the question. Just not tonight.

“Next time we have dinner, I’ll consider it,” you informed him.

“Oh, we’re doing dinner again?”

“Don’t act like you hate the idea.”

“Whatever you say, babydoll.”

[devondespresso]

First fic tag game 📝

Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

tagged by my beloveds @carolperkinsexgirlfriend and @stellarspecter

technically the first thing i started writing for stranger things was my Steve Henderson au 👀 tho at this point most of the original draft from then has been edited bc i was definitely learning as i went, this scene below is one of my favorites from that first attempt and has had the least amount of edits (all the plot beats and most of the dialogue being the exact same!!)

<< also thank you guys you reminded me just in time to keep up with my resolution of revisiting this wip at least once a month 🙏 >>

putting the snip under the cut, and going ahead and tagging @sourw0lfs @marvel-ous-m @helpimstuckposting @queenie-ofthe-void @solarmorrigan

@withacapitalp @hairstevington @scriptorbemi @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36

and anyone else who wants to join!! 💕💕💕

(Context: in season 2 in Dustin's cellar, right after they find and look through the hole D'art dug to escape)

“Great.” Steve sighed, standing up and laying the slime on the ground by the hole, “So now what?”

“We have to find him.”

“Yeah, can’t say I’m thrilled about that.”

“We have to, he ate Mews when he was the same size as her. If he keeps getting bigger he’s going to start hurting people.”

"Mews as in… your cat?"

"Yeah."

Steve nodded slowly.

“You said his face opened up, right? Like,” Steve set the bat down and tried gesturing the petals from the demogorgon’s ‘face’.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly like that. Like he’s an early metamorphic stage of a–”

“Demogorgon.” Awesome. Round two, apparently. “Should we be telling someone about this?”

“I’ve been trying, no one’s answered their walkie all day. That's why I got you.”

“Good to know I’m your last choice.” Steve bitched.

Henderson just rolled his eyes and looked back at the hole.

“Still not a huge fan of looking for a man-eating dog in the middle of the night.” Steve said, “Think it could wait ‘till morning?”

“Maybe? We don’t have any idea where he’ll climb out.”

“Your house’s pretty secure right?” Steve asked. Henderson turned around to look at him, confused. “Just like. He’s not gonna be able to break in while you’re sleeping?”

Henderson’s eyes widened. Shit.

“I… I don’t think so. He didn’t break out when he was cat-sized.”

“Good good, then you’ll be fine,” Steve assured, giving him a solid pat on the back. “We’ll wait until it’s light tomorrow and I’ll come help you find him and we’ll take care of it, yeah?”

“Yeah, good. Sounds good. Tomorrow.”

“Cool, I’ll drop by at eleven.”

“Yeah, just– park at the end of the street. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to a friend’s house.”

“Alright.” Steve slung the bat over his shoulder and walked back to the stairs, Henderson catching up beside him. “And, uh, don’t sweat it, man. The coming-inside-while-you’re-asleep thing. I mean even if he had, like, the brainpower to try and find a way in, he wouldn’t have the force—I mean full grown they’re like sticks—and why would he even want in anyway there's plenty of squirrels and shit–”

“You’re right,” Henderson interrupted. “It’s, uh… just a– He's not big. Yet. So there's no real reason to worry.”

Steve looked at him as he put up a small smile, close-lipped and eyes barely squinted. It could pass as calm if he’d never seen the kid before in his damn life. But talking about it more wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, good.” He patted his arm, then looked at his car for a moment. “Wait here a sec.”

Steve jogged over and opened the passenger's seat, pulling a napkin and a pen out of his glovebox and scribbling his number down.

Steve went to turn around and run back, only to find Dustin barely a few steps behind him.

“Here,” he said, handing Dustin the napkin and closing the car door, “If you need anything.”

He rounded the car to the driver’s side, and when he looked back Dustin was just standing there with the napkin. Steve gestured to the house’s front door.

“Shit, yeah.” He whispered and rushed to get inside, “Thanks.”

Steve waved him off and sat in his car, waiting until the front door closed before driving back home.

Demogorgons again, then. Great. Wonderful

[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.”

[lilsocksiswriting]

Fandom: Jujitsu Kaisen

Paring: Sukuna X Fem!reader

Summary: Your Home!!

Warnings: NSFW, No Beta, minors DNI,

Tags: College/modern Au, hurt/comfort, phone sex, orgasm denial, Sukuna likes to be called sir, Sukuna pep talks, mutual masturbation

Word Count:

Master list || Ko-Fi

Chapter Seven|| Chapter Nine

Sukuna: look at these nerds

Sukuna sent an image

Sukuna: it’s really clear out tonight, really pretty.

Sukuna: I hope you’re sleeping well

Sukuna: OK who FUCK decides who gets to be small Satna.

Sukuna: Dude this grown-ass man is crying from getting a gift from Yuji. He isn't even related to us! Damn, this is cringe. But kinda funny.

Sukuna: I dreamt of you last night. You were here next to me in bed. You felt so warm in my arms. Looked so cute in red lingerie. I really miss you doll. I woke up in cum soaked boxers.

Y/N: Sukuna oh my god.

Sukuna: When you get back there’s this new ramen place I wanna try.

Sukuna: fuuuuuuck me. What the hell doll? what have you done to me? I've never been so horny in my life. Gonna have your cunt stuffed full of cum when you get back.

Sukuna: I miss you being here.

Y/N: I’m waiting to board the plane to lay over land!! 

Y/N: Ok mall Santa’s can be creepy, but they are just trying to spread holiday cheer!

Y/N: Give Choso a break, haven't you both known each other for a long time?

Y/N: awww Sukuna this is all so cute! You miss me.

Y/N: oh my god Sukuna, seriously chill with the lewd texts.

Y/N: ok actually don't…I  kinda like em’

Sukuna: ohhhh, I should have known you’d be a shameless pervert with a screen between us.

Y/N: Oh, don’t even start buddy.

Sukuan: Buddy? Oh, doll you better be careful with the mouth.

Y/N sent an image

Y/N: My lay over-treats!

Y/N: With some distance still between us I feel like I can confidently say: or what?

Sukuna: Have a safe flight home, I’ll be waiting for ya.

Sukuna:  I can shove my cock so far down that tiny throat you won’t have any room to talk.

Y/N: just landed, taking forever to get off.

Y/N: Also slow down their sport. Like, buy me dinner first.

Sukuna: you think these nicknames are so cute, don’t you?

Y/N: I actually think they’re funny, Buster. I can just imagine that pout on your face.

Sukuna: What is it with you and being such a brat sometimes?

Sukuna: I’m in the lobby hurry your ass up.

Sukuna: I wanna see you already.

You cannot get off the plane fast enough. You are bouncing on your feet at baggage claim waiting to yank your suitcase off the conveyer belt. A suitcase that you completely forget when you and Sukuan lock eyes in the airport lobby.

 He indulges you by opening his arms wide for you to run into. Even at full speed you barely make the man stumble back a step when you crash into him. You inhale deeply, letting his scent envelope you. You take another long inhale through your nose.

“Stop fucking sniffing me,” he says but does not let you go.

Kisses instead?” you look up at him with a beaming smile.

 “One kiss,” he tells you sternly, holding up a finger to emphasize his point. “ I want to get out of here.”

Though Sukuan only said one kiss he did not say how long it could be. So, what began as you are pressing your lips to his slowly becomes you shyly poking your tongue against Sukuna’s lips to him gladly opening his mouth. Your hands snake around his neck, one hand threading itself through his locks. Sukuan digs your fingers into your hips as his tongue slides against yours.

Pulling away, gasping for air, Sukuna smirks at the goofy smile across your face.

“Go get your suitcase and let’s get you to your dorm yea?”

The way your droopy eyes widen in panic is funny to the pink-haired man. He lets you go with a chuckle. You curse under your breath and sprint back to grab your forgotten suitcase before it gets stolen.

 Walking back to him with your suitcase in toe, Sukuan takes the handle from you and slings an arm around your shoulders. You tuck yourself into his side. That goofy smile spreads back across your face. Walking with Sukuan out to the airport’s parking lot feels so coupley. You love it. You love that your boyfriend came to pick you up from the airport.

Your roommates were still away for break as is most of the university. Sukuna kicks off his shoes and flops down in your bed while you get to work unpacking your suitcase. He always wondered why you came back earlier than Nobara, now he had some idea. Staring up at the ceiling and listening you you opening and shutting drawers of your dresser he wants to ask you more about your family. He almost thinks of that place you visited as your home. But then he thinks about house his home does not make him feel like he has to constantly put on an act to make everything easier.

Besides he has other things that keep occupying his mind. Like how he finally has you back and that attitude you got with him over text.

“So, about these nicknames you have for me,” he begins.

Oh boy, your shoulders tense. There was no screen to hide behind now. “I-I was just teasing you jeez ”

“Were you?” he sat up and braced his arms against his knees. You were sitting on your knees, back to him, but could feel his gaze bore into your back. “Or were you wanting me to put your bratty ass back in line?”

 You sit up a little straighter.

Got you~, he thinks.

 “Oh? No smart retort? What happened to that attitude you had on your way back? Come on now y/n call me another one of these silly nicknames.” His voice drops. “I dare you. “

You feel a shiver run down your spine and seep into your core. Fuck, his voice is such a turn-on. The man behind emits an air of danger making your flight or fight response want to kick in. But there it that teasing tilt in his voice that reminds you the man behind you is no monster. Just your devilish boyfriend.

You turn to face him. Sukuna is leaning in a lot closer then than you had originally thought. You shift your knees to scoot back but his hand appearing to cup your cheek stops you.

 “Now, now don’t get all scared on me now doll. I’ve barely done anything yet.”

His thump swipes along your cheekbone. Your body missed his touch and his moving on its own. You crane your neck  to be closer. You bit your lip, growing anxious and excited. His calmness makes it so hard to tell what he is planning to do to you.

“What are you going to do?” you ask him.

 “Hmm,” he hums like he is thinking, but Sukuna knew what he wanted to try as soon as he suggested it over text. “Well, we ought to do something to fix that smart mouth of yours first.”

You lick your lips when he mentions your mouth.

The man smirks, ”Oh? Does that excite you? Are you getting wet thinking about me punishing you doll?”

 In a flash of movement, he is gripping your chin forcing you to look him in the eye. “Answer me.”

 “ Y-yes,” you say. This does not seem to please him, so you quickly add a breathless, “It excites me so much.”

Sukuna chuckles. Fuck, he loves how much of a horny little minx you become with just the slightest push.

“Look at you all flushed and needy. You think that is going to make it all better?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, ah, use your words doll,” he warns.

“No, it won’t.”

“But being a good girl and accepting the punishment I dish out will.”

“Yes,” you nod. Mabey a little too eagerly.

“Good, good. Now,”  a thumb pokes into your bottom lip. You obediently part your lips and take it into your mouth, letting him lightly press down on your tongue. The action was so soft, quiet, and intimate. “Since your mouth will be too occupied you won’t be able to use your words to tell me if it’s too much for ya, so you will have to use your hands, just two simple taps. You can do that can't ya doll?.”

 One of your hands slides along the inside of Sukuna’s thigh and gives two light taps. In response,e he pulls his hand away.

“Like that?” you ask with a head tilt.

He nods,” Just like that. Now on your feet.”

Excitedly you hop to your feet momentarily forgetting that the man sitting on your bed could be a downright monster.

“Aww, look at you so excited, brat. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Don’t call me that,” you pout.

Sukuan stands to his feet, towering over you and making you feel like a tiny, indignant bug in his presence. “I will call you whatever I damn well please brat. Now strip.”

You are so enamored by the dark and authoritative aura that has settled over your boyfriend. It was so enticing. It reminds you of the first time you two had slept together. When you accused him of faking that softness he was treating you with. It was like a flip of a switch,  sweet and teasing one moment then dark and dangerous just like this.

“…you aren’t actually made right?”

That softness reappears in Sukuan eyes as he lifts his hands to cup your cheek, “Don’t be stupid…” you blink as he seems to be at a loss for words. A light blush creeps across the bridge of his nose. “I’m happy you're back.”

Your smile makes his stomach do an odd flip, something that he still is not used to. just like he is still getting used to being soft and blunt with feelings.

“And if it gets too rough, just two taps,” you repeat proudly.

“That’s my girl,” he praises. His hand slips down to light wrap around your throat making you gasp. “Now do not make me repute myself.”

 You quickly step away, out of his hold, and begin to stip. Sukuna’s eyes never leave your body as my bare skin is revealed to him. A bashful blush creeps up your neck as you strip down to your bralette and panties. You wonder if there will ever be a point in time when you are comfortable being naked in front of Sukuna and his hungry, dark  gaze

 Said man licks his lips and slips you out of your lacy bralette. You plumb breast looking like they are out of a lewd dream to him.

Fuck I’ve missed her Sukuan thinks watching your nipples pebble.

Sukuan stops you from taking off the cotton pair of panties with another command, ”Now get over here on the bed, lay on your back, and  head off the bed.”

An excited shiver runs through your body making your arms break out in goose bumps. Sukuna steps aside to let you step past him and crawl onto the bed. You try to make it slow and sexy, give your ass a little wiggle. When you lay on the bed just as Sukuan told you to, you have an upside-down view of Sukuan standing above you, lips pressed into a thin line trying to suppress a laugh.

 “What the hell was that, Doll?”

“I as tryin’ to be sexy…”

Sukuan leans over you. In this position, he can push his finger into the fat of your thighs. The bulge of his pants hovers over your lips. You can feel a heat radiating from there and it would be so easy to just crane your neck a bit and kiss the bulge in his jeans.

Another squeeze to your soft thighs stops you. Sukuan deep voice follows, “With a body like this you ain’t got to try anything. Look so fuckable and beautiful.”

You can’t squeeze your thighs together to relive the small ache that Sukuna’s words have caused because of the man’s hand keeping them apart.

Sukuna paws at your thighs and lowers your stomach, never venturing into the growing ache between your legs. Your attention is drawn back to the definite bulge in the crotch of his pants.

Is he already hard?

A kiss pressed into that bulge that leads to a deep groan from Sukuna confirms that he is.

 “Fuckin’ brat so eager aren’t ya.”

“I wanted to know if you were hard,” you tell him with a sly smile. “ I was right.”

 Your breath catches in your throat when heated fingers slip over your cotton panties right over your core. Your head swims with want and dizziness. You have to work to focus on what Sukuna’s next words mean.

“You want my cock so bad then I’ll give it to you. Fuck some manners into that mouth of yours’s brat.”

 There is something in the back of your head, one thought trying to connect to another. Mabey a smart reply that is just on the tip of your tongue?

 Sukuan stands up to his full height. He gets a good look up your head hanging off the edge of your bed as he unbuckles his pants. The jingle of his belt is like a little bell that finally makes the thoughts connect.  

Oh, that’s what he wants to do, you think his mouth already beginning to water.

Sukuna pulls his pants and briefs down past his ass letting his dick spring free. It lightly slaps against your cheek and you pop open your mouth. The pink-haired menace smirks.

 “Aww look at you so eager for my cock. Is that why you were using those stupid pet names? Wanted my cock so badly?”

 He does not let you answer. Swiftly thrusting his hips forward, Sukuna pushes the head of his cock passed your open lips.

“Fuck yes,” Sukuna hisses as his cock sinks into your mouth, the soft tip of his cock smashing against the back of your throat. “Fuuuuuck that’s it.”

Your cheeks puff as you cough around the thick girth. Your fingers claw into your comforter. You try your best to relax and ready yourself as Sukuna pulls his hips back.

“Anything to say for yourself brat?”

You can only moan in reply. Your body quivers as he snaps his hips and buries his cock back down your throat. Fully sheathed back into the heat of your mouth  Sukuna’s body gives its own shutter when he feels your throat constrict around him.

He had this whole plan for when he finally got to hold you in his arms again. Take you back here, order your favorite takeout, and shower with slow affection while the TV plays in the background. Show you a softer side of him that no one beyond your bedroom door would see. But then you had to go and call him those cringey nicknames and look where that landed the two of you. Sukuna cannot complain and by the way that you are squeezing and rubbing your thighs together neither can you.

After a few more experimental thirst Sukuna finds a good rhythm to fucking your mouth. His balls slapped against the middle of your scrunched brows. Sukuna’s eyes flutter close. he missed this. He missed damn near everything about you. Your voice, your smell, your taste, your touch, and your sweet warmth. The way you become so pliable under him and more eager than him to try new things with him. Such a little slut dressed up all innocently in that tired college kid look.

Your eyes widen when Sukuna’s fingers press into your cotton-covered folds. You moan around his cock. Sukuna groans in response and rubs you through your panties.

Your head swims with pleasure, lust, and dizziness. It is a combination that you have never felt before. While Sukuan counties to rut into your warm, wet mouth he rubs your clit through your panties. The cotton becomes soaked and sticks to your skin.

The soaked patch warrants some teasing, “Aww look at that doll she missed me.”

 You buck your hips when Sukuna meanly pressed down over your clit. His other hand is quick to hold you down by the hips so he is the only one who can give you pleasure.

 “Makes you punishment so much fun,” he groans, and the pace of his hips becomes rougher and shorter. “Fuck, goanna teach this bratty mouth of yours a lesson.”

You gag as he ruts into your mouth. You try to relax but cannot. Sukuna’s fingers keeping you on the edge of a glorious, I-missed-you-so-so-much orgasm.

“Are you sorry now? For using all those stupid nick manes while you texted me?” he asks knowing full well you cannot answer him. Only gag, cough, and moan.

 You can feel the drool start to roll up your face. Your head feels swimmy,  and your vision becomes darker. It is then that you realize that this is not just lust making you dizzy, it is all the blood rushing to your head.

Your shaky hand comes to rest on his hip. There are murky thoughts about you trying to push him away only for Sukuna fuck your mouth harder or digging your claws into the firm globes of his ass to press his cock deeper down your throat. But right now...

Feeling two light taps on his is like flipping a switch off in Sukuna’s head. He immediately pulls his cock out. You barely have time to take a deep breath in before your world is spinning. Your vision, on the edge of darkness, blurs and takes a moment longer than it should to clear. Sukuan is sitting there in the bed next to you. His hand is on the small of your bare back. The warmth seeps into your skin.

 “There, there,” his voice is soft and soothing, “I got ya doll.”

You take a few deep breaths as you relax into his hand. A few coughs interrupted the silence.

“Water?”

You nod and for a moment you are left to sit on your bed alone as Sukuan digs through your book bag for your water bottle. You smile fondly. You never told him where he could find your water bottle. Sukuan pulls out the water bottle and brings it to you. He knew exactly where to find it from the hundreds of times he had watched you pull from this same book bag when you came over.

 “Here,” he passes the water bottle over to you.

 Taking a long swig, you see the worrisome frown that weighs the corner of his lips down.

 “What’s wrong?”

 Sukuan is quiet for a minute. Your head feels better now that all the blood is not rushing to your head and your throat is not clogged by the thick girth of your boyfriend’s dick.

 “How are you feeling?”

 You set down your water bottle by that bed. You cup Sukuna's cheek, thumping trilling across the tattoos that line up. His cheekbone, “I’m feeling amazing, just got a little dizzy is all.”

 A soft smirk settles across his face, dips his head, and kisses your palm filling your chest with a warmth you had missed this whole break. Something catches in the back of your throat that you swallow down. You could cry later and figure out what that knot was all about. But right now…

Sukuan is surprised when you flop back down on your back. This time you lay your head so that is a bit more even to your chest and not fully hanging off the bed. You smile up.

 Sukuan smiles back, “God you are such a slutty brat. I love it.”

 Sukuna leans back over you, his cock slipping right back onto your awaiting mouth He gives you clit a slap making you cough around his cock. He thrusts a little more hurried now. He doesn’t want you almost passing out on him again.

You moan and gargle, a rough hand pushing down your hips as Sukuan counties to fuck your mouth.

 “Fuck just look at this you bratty little fucking slut. You soaked through you are. You are fucking like this don’t you?”

Like you can answer him. Not just because his cock is shoved so far down your throat but because you are moaning again as Sukuan seems to give you a break and rub your clit through the pair of cotton

 Pleasure makes you arch your back. You try to lean into his fingers only to have his fingers teasingly pull back just enough for the friction to lose its build.

“Remember to try and b-breath through nose brat, don’t want you passin’ out like this. Not when I am so fucking close.”

 And you can feel how close he is getting. He is getting messier. His hips are rutting into your mouth and are feral and uneven. His dick begins to twitch at the back of your throat

You love it. You love the spit dripping up your face, the heavy balls thumping against your forehead, and Sukuna’s grunt above you. Even the way he is teasing your soaked pussy, rubbing and changing the pressure just enough to keep you in the same spot of spine-tingling pleasure.

“Fuck doll, keep on moaning and groaning like that, feel so good round’ my dick. Gonna cum all over this pretty fahhh- face!”

You do not know what comes over you. but you do not want his cum plaster all over your face, mixing with snot and drool, no matter how hot that may sound. You want it inside you. You feel your fingernails digging into the globs of his ass. A feral groan is pulled from Sukuna’s throat. The slight pain sent him over.

  “Fu-Fucking…brat,” he seethes as you gag.

Sukuan hips stutter and his cock swells then spills its load down the back of your throat You gulp once, twice, and even then, some of his seed leaks out of the corner of your mouth.

You inhale and woosh out an exhale after Sukuan pulls out of your mouth. A sicky string of drool and cum connects your swollen lips to the flaccid cock. Sukuan helps you sit up. He takes in the sight of you with that goofy cock dunk smile across your face. His soft cock is still out, laying against your bare thing. His warm hand settles over your shoulder.

“You sure that was a punishment?” you tease laying against his chest, listening to the steady thump.

All it takes is a dark laugh that you hear fret his chest to make you stomach drop.

 “Oh, doll, that’s cute. You think I’m done? You think that me fucking your throat raw was  all your punishment?”

You move your head away and look up,” Yeah? And now we get to cuddle and enjoy that I’m back?”

There’s that mean smirk that is so hot and dreadfilling.

 “Sukuna-“

He slips you between his spread legs, “yes?”

“What is the rest of my punishment?”

He does not answer. He instead pinches the wet fabric of my panties between his fingers, pulls it apart from your skin then lets it go with a wet snap. You shiver at the slightly uncomfortable feeling. He then begins to tease you by rubbing you through them again, prodding at your entrance, but never going deep enough to penetrate you thanks to the cursed fabric.

“The rest is for me to know and you to figure it you,” he teases..

Sukuna pulls your soaked panties aside and dips two of his thick fingers inside you. With his other hand, he shoves two more into your mouth, pressing down you’re on your tongue.

 You feel your eyes roll back Sukuna’s fingers, knuckle deep inside your tight cunt, curl and push into a spot that makes you feel so damn good. Sukuna takes the opportunity to push his fingers deeper into your mouth 

 “shuku-“ you try to say but he adds a third finger to your mouth..

“Tsk, tsk, didn’t I tell you to use your hands doll?”

You shake your head. No that was not it all! you buck your hips into his touch and it only makes Sukuan chuckle at how quickly you get so desperate. It was so hot and never failed to make his cock stir. He continues to softly massage his fingers inside you.

“Oh, you want more?”

You eagerly nod.

 “Be careful. What you wish for doll,” is the only warning you get being Sukuna is jackhammering his fingers inside your sloppy cunt.

Thank God no one is here yet. They surely would hear the wet sound your pussy is making and the choking screams

You gurgle and cry, slimy drool dribbles down Sukuna’s fingers. He laughs and feels giddy and high from his post-orgasm and having you like this. He was getting hard again.

“What too much? Poor pussy can’t handle some rough play?”

 One of our hands is clawing at your wrist while you desperately buck your hips.                          

Then the bastard stops!          

 A sob escapes you as Sukuna pulls his fingers away from you. Now you are going to really cry.

“Sukunaaaaaa,” you wine.

 “Yes?”

“Ok, okokok! I’m sorry for the stupid nicknames. I-I’m super super sorry! Please, “ you blabber so frantic to cum.” Pretty please I’m sorry ok please. Please I need to cum. I need it so bad. I missed you makin’ me c-cum!“

 “See what good manners get you,” Sukuna’s tone changed into praise. “Such a good girl asking me so nicely and apologizing.”

  “yes,” You nod, “Such a good girl, your good girl. Please, please.”

“Fuck doll, alright lay down for me.”

You scramble off his lap and lay down in your bed. Sukuna rolls over between your legs, making quick work of pealing your panties off you. You hook your ankles at the base of his spine. Sukuna takes a moment to look down at you laid bare and needy for him.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says mostly to himself. So wet and needy for me. “So needy because I am the only one who can make you cum.”

His words have you clenching around nothing.

Though Sukuna’s naming nothing but mean and handsome his touch is gentle. Hands take your hips and pull you closer. The head of his flush cock rubs between your folds, gathering up your wetness and letting it dribble down his shaft making him full hard again.

 “Fuck who needs lube when you’re so wet like this?”

You wine, rolling your hips so his dick slides along your clit. You threw your head back at just a sliver of the feeling you had been needing this whole time.

 “Poor impatient little thing.”

“Sukuna, pl-please,” you huff.

“Yes, yes I know,” he says while most of his attention is still drawn down to your glistening pussy, ”Just let me enjoy this view a little longer doll.”

And what a view it is. Sukuan gives his cock a few good pumps to spread your wetness all over it. Slowly Sukuna lines himself up and pushes in. Somethin trembles inside Sukuna as he watches your hole stretch to accommodate his girth. The wet heat hugging his cock makes him feel like he could cum right there.

 You, tossing your head this way and that, feeling Sukuna slowly stretch out. You feel so full once his hips are pushing into yours. Your legs squeeze around Sukuan as a smile stretches across your face. Everything feels so good right now. Sukuna’s cock fit snuggly inside you,  the peaceful sound of your and Sukuna’s labored breaths, the warmth that radiated from him, and just knowing that you were not home anymore.

“Look at that smile, “ Sukuan says as he leans over you, “ So happy to be stuffed full again? Did you miss it? Were your fingers not enough?”

   “ I missed you too dummy,” you tell him not quite realizing your mistake.

  But Sukuna does. He muzzles his face in the crook of your neck laughing to himself mostly.

  “Sukun-ah~” your voice tapper off in a nigh moan as the man pulls almost all the way back and than snaps his hips back.

The sound that rumbles for Sukuna is something between another laugh and a long groan. Your hands scramble the warmth around his neck for something to hang onto.

“What did just say about the nicknames brat?”  his questions sound like more a of threat to your ears.

 “I-I wasn’t-“

 “I didn’t ask for excuses,” Sukuna says before giving your neck a mean nip. “ But if you wanna act stupid then I’ll fuck you stupid.

Oh fuck.

Sukuna starts out with a brutal pace and thank fuck you went and called him a dummy because he does not think he can hold himself back. It sounds so pathetic that he missed your body this much. He can barely think himself. His mind is consumed by your slippery cunt clamping down with feral thrusts of his hips.

“Fuck, missed you so so much doll, “ he says against your skin.

“Su-Sukuna,” is the only word you seem to know right now.

His pace is fast, brutal, and desperate. Your heart thrumming because it means that he missed you just as much as you missed him.

It feels so perfect. Everything feels so good. Each time Sukuna’s hips come down his pubic mound h bumps your clit in such a perfect way.

Your back arches as a high-pitch-grateful whine escapes you. Pleasure, Euphoria, and then even more pleasure washes over you as you cum. Sukuna wheezes. When he tries to regain any sense of sanity oh he breath he just hears him moaning.

Your walls are milking him dry. They clamp down on him as his cums fill you. Sukuan keeps thrusting in and out until his body collapses beside you and his cock is spent.

“Fuuuck, that was good.”

You hum moving closer. Sukuna slings an arm around you waits and pulls you close. The room was just filled with your labored breaths. You felt sweat, slippery, muscles burning and sticky. But it was perfect. You have yourself a boyfriend who is grumpy and has face tattoos that make you feel so giddy and real.

“I want a shower,” You break the comfortable silence.

“I want food,” Sukuan adds.

“Ohhhh yes, takeout. I don’t wanna leave.”

Sukuan could not think of anything more perfect.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @alwaysurvalentine! alwaysurvalentine has 11 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@dame-zoom-a-lot recommends the following works by @alwaysurvalentine:

bad days were meant to be shared

three strikes and you're out!

aquariums and sweethearts

"If I had to put an image to their fics… I'd say a warm blanket and a piece of cake.

Their slices of life fics get cooked with so much care and thought. A lot of them are my go-to when I'm feeling kind of off or lonely. They approach conflict with so much empathy and realism. No one's just shitty out of the blue with zero reason, and characters talk things out in a way that feels like how real people would talk. There's rarely clear villains or clean-cut forever happy-ending type resolutions in real life, and their fics shine at showing the beauty of that." -- @dame-zoom-a-lot

Below the cut, @alwaysurvalentine answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Honestly, I just really vibe with both of them as characters. It’s easy to draw some of my own parallels with how Eddie sees the world and Steve’s fall from grace within my personal life - so it’s nice to play around with characters who I can understand. Plus I love taking the “protectors” from the narrative and forcing them to allow others to care for them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I’m a sucker for any type of soulmate au, the ones with soulmarks are my guilty pleasures. Just something about knowing there’s someone out there destined to care about you makes me feel all warm and fuzzy

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Anything slice of life or found family - I just love getting to give characters all the love and care they deserve. Especially when canon has put them through the ringer!!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

With no cross to bear (these words just come out) by hitlikehammers https://archiveofourown.org/works/45052120/chapters/113340064 I come back to this fic again and again. Love their Eddie POV and all of the reactions from the party feel authentic and I just love a fic that really shows how much everyone cares about Steve (even if he doesn’t see it).

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve had a big idea about a possession type fic starring Eddie. It’s gonna be a big project though so it may be workshopped and shelved for another time while I work on some other stuff!

What is your writing process like?

Music is my biggest inspiration and I listen to Spotify all of the time (my spotify wrapped is about to be WILD), but usually I’ll get a spark of an idea from a song, scribble down a quick interaction I can see, and then once I get home it’s getting it all out on a doc. It usually takes me a few days to a week for me to get a fic where I want it, especially when the characters take things into their own hands for the narrative (I’m looking at Eddie and Robin here)

Do you have any writing quirks?

I actually write everything in red text until I decide I like the section. I have so many documents that have different colored text based on how I feel about it. Black means it’s ready to be proofread/don’t change, purple or blue for things I want to rewrite, and then red for what I’ve gotten down but isn’t edited/reviewed yet. Besides that I also go in thinking I’m going to keep it short and sweet and then I blink and we’re 2k in - but it’s been fun nonetheless!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

If I’m doing a prompt challenge usually it’s as soon as I’m done (totally not because I finish the day of…totally not that) but other than that I have a personal schedule to have certain things done by, otherwise I’ll nitpick forever.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Three Strikes and You’re Out! It was super fun to play around with connecting baseball terms to DnD in a way that still made sense and wasn’t just a block of info text.

How did you get the idea for aquariums and sweethearts?

It was actually a little followup I did for another fic, where Eddie visited the aquarium with Uncle Wayne but wasn’t able to get the souvenir he wanted. And I wanted Steve to kinda complete that circle, plus I wanted them to have a moment where they could kinda be kids again.

When writing aquariums and sweethearts, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t expect it to be so long, I was just going to write a tiny follow up but got carried away with my own aquarium memories and research so I just kept wanting to add more and more

What inspired three strikes and you're out!?

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of fics where Steve meets Eddie halfway with his interests and I wanted to see the opposite. Like it’s one thing for Eddie to concede that being a jock isn’t so bad, but it’s another for him to go out and learn about a sport/something that doesn’t interest him at all, ya know?

What was your favorite part to write from three strikes and you're out!?

Oooh! Such a hard question, for me it’s a tie between the conversation Eddie has with Lucas and his conversation with Uncle Wayne. I just liked putting Eddie in a situation where he was the one learning, instead of being the one in charge/control.

How do/did you feel writing bad days were meant to be shared?

It was a little hard starting out, I knew a couple things I wanted to happen but besides that I really went in kinda blind. Once I got into the groove though, it felt like it just wrote itself. Steve knew what he was feeling and just guided me along.

What was the most difficult part of writing bad days were meant to be shared?

So fun fact, I actually wrote the first draft completely from Eddie's point of view. I was trying to find his voice (still feel like I’m working on this but progress is progress) but it just wasn’t flowing right and Dame-Zoom-A-Lot actually helped beta for me. They’re the one who suggested the point of view switch and it worked so well!!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

A favorite scene I’ve written has to be in aquariums and sweethearts when Eddie and the Mime gang up on Steve to poke fun at him, it just felt like something Eddie would play along with and enjoy.  These couple of lines from Three Strikes and You’re Out! Make me really happy, like sent my friends a dorky screenshot because I liked them so much: “Eddie’s world narrows to the smell of Steve’s cologne, something that smells like rain on freshly cut grass and a hint of vanilla. Just as soon as Steve leaned in, he leans away, the sun painting orange and pink highlights in his hair when he tilts his head grinning.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m working on a Steve Harrington ‘character study’ from Hopper’s point of view currently and might be starting on an Anastasia AU starring Chrissy as Anya and Robin as Dimitri - super stoked for both of these!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Endless thanks to my nominator!! I just started posting for Steddie this August and it’s been unreal. So thankful for all of my new friends and can’t wait to share some more of my little ideas and chat with other people about their art and stories! <3

Thank you to our author, @alwaysurvalentine, and our nominator, @dame-zoom-a-lot ! See more of alwaysurvalentine's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[spaceagebachelormann]

MARS BBBBBBYYYY CAN I GET DATING HORT HEADCANONS I LOVE HIM SM OMG

DATING HIM - HORT.

𝑵𝑨𝑽. || 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 || 𝑺𝑮𝑬 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

➼ FANDOM: the school for good and evil

➼ WARNINGS/TAGS: i may have villianized sophie… a bit…. i’m sorry, also this is book!hort

➼ FORMAT: headcanons

let’s be honest

he is…. possessive.

always has a hand on your hip, shoulder or waist when he’s sitting or walking with you

and his grip is tight, but not so tight where it leaves bruises, just enough that he can scoop you away if needed

while tedros has an “anything for you <3” mindset, horts is more aggressive

“ANYTHING for you.” and he means it

will literally do anything for you

no acceptions, you ask he does it <3

also,,, i think he’d like to bring you pretty flowers

doesn’t matter if you’re an ever or a never he’s bringing you a new flower everyday

soon you have a vase full of pretty flowers <3

OH OH

cuddles are a must with him

pulls you into his side/on top of him whenever he sits beside you

or when you’re laying down

either way it’ll end in cuddling

we’ve talked about cuddling, now let’s bring up kisses

he loves kissing you!!

even if he sees you in the hall for a split second he’s gonna grab your face and kiss you before skedaddling

he’d like kissing your forehead and hands the most

everytime you hold hands he ends up raises your palms/back of the hand to his lips and like littering it in kisses

has definitely stolen sophie’s lipstick and put it on so it left stains when he kisses you

you come in to class with lipstick marks and everyone’s like “did sophie make out with you….” and horts like “since when was my name sophie?”

yeah they laughed but she wasn’t very happy and burnt her lipstick when it was returned

btw sophie’s jealous now that horts attention isn’t on her

dw she’ll approve… eventually

now i know he wears eyeliner and if you suck at makeup he puts it on for you

oh also being his s/o means listening to him rant about how he hates tedros <3

and comforting him afterwards

now, he will never ever laugh at you

like ever

even if you did the most embarrassing thing ever he’s not even smiling a bit

and if anyone does he will destroy them

if he can’t laugh with you, he’s not laughing at all

if you like to read he will go out and buy you a whole, like, wagon full of books

so you know how everything was…. stressful, in a word, in the last ever after?

yeah you don’t really leave his sight

he’s more of your bodyguard than sophies

if you thought he was protective before it just got 10x worse

but like he’s not being overprotective in a “you belong to me” way it’s in a “i just want you to be safe” way

it’s late so i’m gonna end the hcs here!! i’ll probably come back and add more though

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 2

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,441 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, it's gonna get real nasty Summary: Sookie's cousin returns to Bon Temps, and Eric wants her... to work for him. She says yes.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

She finds herself at Fangtasia again a few days later—what else does she have to do, unemployed and ostracized as she is?—with another martini in her hand as she stares up at a surrealist painting hanging on the wall. It’s larger than life, with tigers and an elephant and a nude woman lounging in the sea, but she’s afraid she can make no emotional connection to it. Dali is weird.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Eric greets in a low, even tone as he seems to materialize beside her, his eyes also on the painting. This time he’s wearing a black v-neck sweater, and it makes the muscles of his arms look even better, if that’s possible.

“Teasing you?” she asks, looking up at him, and he turns to her and scans her body the way he seems to every time they meet. It would irritate her, if it were anyone else, but having Eric’s attention is hugely flattering, and she can’t bring herself to dismiss the way it makes her feel.

“Coming into my bar again… looking like that.” He says it like she’s a forbidden snack dangled in front of him, and she ponders it.

She is technically fully covered in a maroon turtleneck, black miniskirt, tights and boots, which doesn’t seem all that tempting… until she considers that he’s nearly fully covered too and has quite literally never been more attractive to her. He buzzes in her ear again—his mind, his aura, whatever the hell it is—and she finally remembers that he’s said something, wets her lips to speak.

“There’s no vampire bar in Bon Temps, or I’d probably be there,” she says with a sip of her drink. Okay, maybe not, she thinks as he leans into her space, tilting his body so that it’s him she’s looking up at instead of the art. No, either way she would probably find herself drawn here, to him.

“Why? Do you like vampire blood?” he asks seriously, almost like an interrogation, and she shakes her head, frowns.

“I don’t do drugs, and no vampire has ever offered it to me.” She wants to make sure she covers all her bases, is transparent in her knowledge of not only V as a commodity, but the ritual of bloodsharing that vampires sometimes perform with their companions. “Regardless, blood isn’t the reason I came.” 

“Did you come for me?” he asks, the tone of his voice the same but his expression more relaxed. She nods her head.

“Yes. I’ll do it – consult for you, work for you, whatever you want to call it.” It took her about two days to decide, then two more to get up the courage to come down to the bar and ask for what she believes she deserves—a problem she’s never had professionally before. Her answer earns her a change in posture, and Eric seems gratified by her response.

“You will? I’m pleased to hear that,” he says, and she nods her head, trying to ignore the way it warms her all over to know he’s happy with her choice.

“I have some stipulations,” she tells him directly, not intending to mince words, and he carefully takes the glass from her hand and sets it on a table behind them. The two middle aged humans who occupy it look absolutely thrilled at this sighting of a vampire in the wild, which makes Cam want to smile.

“I would expect no less. Let’s go into my office so we can be candid,” he suggests, gesturing toward the back of the bar, and he leads her through the crowd of bodies to the cluttered, unremarkable office with a hand hovering at her lower back.

“So what is it that you want from me? Explicitly,” she asks when he closes the door. “You know I’m a lawyer, so specific language is kind of my thing.” He pulls a chair out for her, then takes the seat on the other side of the desk and leans across it to speak.

“I would like to be able to call on you when I have a situation that could benefit from your gift—and I would like to be the only vampire who calls on you. That’s non-negotiable.” 

She’d expected the first part—not so much the second—but it’s nothing she’s unwilling to give.

“I can agree to exclusivity, but keep in mind that occasionally I will hear or see things whether I want to or not; if I come upon a vampire matter, I’ll inform you and let you decide how to proceed. If it’s not a vampire matter, I’ll provide the information to whomever I see fit.”

“Okay, yes,” Eric agrees easily, and then he backtracks for a moment, looking curious. “Hear or see?”

“Well, thoughts aren’t always just a string of words, you know? Often they include images, memories, even vague feelings. What I do, it’s kind of a mixture of all those things.”

“That’s… good to know,” he says, and he taps his fingers against the desk. “It’s also important to me that you make yourself available when I need you; as you know, I only do business between sunset and sunrise. If I’m calling upon you, I have deemed it important, and I expect to take priority over other things you may be doing—anything short of a life and death emergency.”

“That’s fair,” she says, though she wonders if they should take a moment to formally define life and death emergency in case it comes up in the future. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “See? No threats or manipulation necessary.” 

It’s playful, now, his tone of voice, and she answers it with a slightly skeptical smile.

“And what are you willing to give me in exchange?” 

“Anything,” he says, and it sounds earnest; he splays his arms wide like he’s gesturing not just to the room, but beyond it to the bar, the city, the world. “Anything. Money, blood, drugs, sex, protection, power—whatever you want.”

All of those things come with a hefty price tag, she thinks—and part of her has to wonder if her gift, as he called it, is actually worth it. The short list of demands she was fully prepared to fight for just an hour ago seems to pale in comparison to how important he thinks she will be.

“I would expect to be compensated in the event you come to me and I am involved in solving a problem, but I also need a retainer. Nothing outrageous, but if I’m going to be at your beck and call I won’t be able to commit to a regular job.”

“Of course,” he says easily, like the financials don’t matter to him in the slightest. She’s dealt with wealthy clients before, of course, even wealthy vampire clients, but his flippancy adds another layer of surrealism to the already surprising conversation. Should she ask for a luxury car, a yacht, season tickets to see the Saints? “What else?” 

She’d considered this next point, and then abruptly un-considered it, felt she was asking too much… but given his promise of anything, she feels bold again. Like she could actually have the upper hand.

“I want protection—your protection. If I’m in real danger, and I call for you, I want you to be the one who comes for me.”

Eric raises an eyebrow, looks over her face carefully. It’s like he’s regarding some part of her for the first time, his gaze lingering.

“Do you anticipate being in danger often?”

“No, but I made enemies in Chicago, and you know how word travels in those circles. There are certain groups who aren’t fond of what I’ve done—and it’s possible there will be people who don’t approve of my employment here. I’d just like to know I’ll be safe, if I’m going to make working for you my priority.” 

She exhales, feeling a bit less confident than when they started this, but Eric just makes a thoughtful sound and says, “It’s yours. Anything else?” he asks, and she considers that a win and stands up, feeling instantly intimidated when he stands too, tall and dark and strong. It’s so much easier to do business with him when they’re sitting down, when he’s on her level, or as close to her level as he will ever be.

“No, I think that’s it,” she says, and she sticks her hand out to shake, feeling oddly formal as she does. As a lawyer, she would have preferred the security of a contract, but that’s not the way most vampires operate and she knows better than to suggest it; that could be seen as an indication that she doesn’t find him trustworthy. A handshake, his word and hers, will have to do.

Looking into her eyes, he reaches out and takes her hand in his, shakes for a moment and then holds it there for just a beat too long before pulling away. She walks toward the door, and then, when the thought strikes her, she turns back to face him once more.

“Actually, there is one more thing,” she says, and as he walks closer she can’t help flashing back to his offer of sex—thank god she’s the one with the power of telepathy and not the other way around. “Could you help me find a decent apartment somewhere between here and Bon Temps? Sookie’s a great roommate, but I can’t stand that drafty old house.” And all of its memories. 

“Consider it done,” he tells her, and she nods her head and leaves the bar, climbs into her car, and definitely doesn’t pump her fist in the air when she stops at the red light at the end of the block.

Two days later, a FedEx driver actually drops off an employment contract—it was silly of her to assume he wouldn’t also want their terms in writing—along with a slip of paper, upon which is written an address and a phone number, and a key.

The first night she spends in her new apartment—which is truly perfect, bright and white and airy, with tons of nearby green space and amenities—there is a knock at the door. When she opens it, Eric is on the other side, in a leather jacket and jeans, holding a bottle of wine with an expensive French label. She looks him over, and he does the same, making her feel a little self conscious in her bike shorts and oversized t-shirt, ponytail, bare feet.

“Eric—what a nice surprise,” she says, and it really is nice, and surprising. She never would have anticipated him coming to her without needing something—assuming he doesn’t need something now. The wine would be an odd touch, but as always with vampires, nothing’s out of the question.

“I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood,” he replies. 

Cam had been slightly suspicious when the very first listing he sent her was a mere five miles from his bar, but when she considered his request for her exclusive availability, she figured it made enough sense not to question him any further.

“You did that when you paid my rent. For a year,” she tacks on, her tone admonishing, because that was not part of the employment contract. A faint smile lifts his lips. 

“Consider it a sign-on bonus.” The air between them feels oddly charged, and then she tunes into it, realizes it’s that static that seems to follow him around. He shifts where he stands. “I brought you a bottle of wine. A housewarming gift,” he explains, handing it to her, and she wraps her fingers around the neck and pulls it close with a smile of her own.

“Thank you. Would you like to come in and have a glass with me?” 

It’s clear by the look on his face he hadn’t been expecting that—probably didn’t expect to be invited into her home unless it was absolutely necessary for her protection in the future—but he nods, and when she takes a step back he crosses the threshold, closes the door behind him, and follows her to the kitchen.

“Are you sure this one is okay? The neighbors are so… close together,” he remarks of her new townhouse, and she bends to sort through a box full of kitchen gadgets, pulling out the corkscrew after a few seconds of rummaging.

“Oh, trust me, it’s great. My apartment in Chicago was little more than a shoebox with windows, and there’s a pool here, and a park nearby. I really appreciate everything you did.” 

She opens the bottle, pulls two glasses down from the cabinet—the only cabinet she’d managed to fully unpack—and carries them over to the table, where Eric has already settled into a dining chair. He looks uncomfortable, tall and stiff and alert, like this is all a little too human for his taste.

“Still, it seems like you miss things there,” he says as she pours them each a serving, and she shrugs, then sinks down into the seat next to his with her leg tucked beneath her. 

“Things haven’t been very good there for the last couple years, so I’m actually happy to have a fresh start.” She takes a sip of her wine, full-bodied and earthy with a peppery finish, and can’t help the sigh of pleasure she expels. “My god, that’s good.” She says it with the hint of a smile, something he casually reciprocates. 

“I had a feeling you would like it,” is all he says, but when he takes a sip his eyes fall closed, and he seems to let it sit on his tongue a moment before continuing the conversation. 

“So what kinds of things do you anticipate calling on me for?” she asks later, as they are finishing their second glass. Eric takes a moment to gather his thoughts, and she thinks it’s because he’s choosing his words intentionally, for her benefit.

“Mostly to confirm my suspicions if I think a human is being deceptive; I have some human employees, and I make business deals with others. Sometimes I need to know if my patrons are lying—if they’re underage, or looking for V, or conspiring against us. As sheriff, sometimes vampires come to me with human problems as well—it would be easier to deal with them if I had you available to me.” 

“That sounds fair,” she says, appreciating his careful explanation. She shifts in her seat. “At my old firm they called me the human lie detector… they just didn’t know quite how close they were to the truth.” 

“It must be difficult, to hear all the things you hear,” he says, and she nods her head in agreement.

“It can be, but I’ve gotten fairly used to it over time. Taught myself to control it instead of letting it bother me.” Things are quiet for a moment, and she takes the opportunity to say something that’s been on her mind since he arrived. “I feel a little uneasy about asking for your protection the other day. I think I may have asked too much of you,” she says with a frown. “I know you’re busy with the bar, and as sheriff, that a lot of people rely on you, and I’m not sure it’s fair of me to make such an extravagant request.”

It takes some effort for her to be able to look up at him instead of focusing on her glass, but when she does he seems thoughtful, his eyes serious but gentle.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I thought it would disrupt my other obligations. No harm will come to you while you’re under my employ, I promise.” She nods, placated by his reassurances, and he taps a finger against the tabletop. “You said you’ve taught yourself how to control your gift. Can you… hear vampires?” 

His tone is reserved, but hopeful, and she grimaces.

“No offense, but vampire minds are kind of empty. My guess it has to do with electrical impulses, or lack thereof. Technically, I can hear you, but it’s like white noise, sometimes, or tinnitus. I don’t get any actual thoughts.” She ponders his question for a moment, wonders if that unique buzzing she picks up when he’s around is his mind, or something different. “Touching helps with humans, though. I can rewind a little bit, see memories instead of just what’s playing live, if that makes sense; maybe it would help me hear something from you?” 

Eric stretches his arm across the table, his bare hand palm up, and she slides hers over it after a cautious moment. She presses their skin together and lets her eyes glance over his face, listening carefully, searching. It feels like a very, very long time passes, and a lot of static, but eventually she finds a moment, a phrase or sentence among the near silence.

“Ӓr du död?” she murmurs, and while she can’t see anything, she can feel the heat of flames nearby. It warms her hand where it turns to ice against Eric’s. His brow furrows in recognition, and she exhales, blinks. “I don’t know the language. What does it mean?”

“It’s Swedish. ‘Are you death?’ It’s the first thing I said to Godric, my Maker, before he turned me,” he admits, his voice serious and somber. Cam inhales sharply at that knowledge.

“Wow. I can’t imagine I’ve ever gone back further than a few days that way, let alone…” 

“A thousand years, give or take.” He answers her unspoken question with a deeply curious expression. “That was among the last of my human memories, so I suppose it makes sense that you can see it.”

“I can feel it, too,” she says, and she wraps her fingers around his, searching for more, for a deeper connection. She closes her eyes this time, in hopes it strengthens the memory. “I can feel the heat from a fire. And I can feel that you’re dying. You’re cold inside, but your skin is warm.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, his voice barely there. He tightens his grip on her hand.

“There’s a man there, a very young man, and you’re not happy with him… but you aren’t afraid of him, either. He has a strangely calming presence; you’re not sure if he’s an angel or the devil.”

“Godric.” His Maker. He looks strangely young for a vampire, vulnerable, and though he’s short, he towers over Eric in his memory, eyes deep and dark and full of possibility.

“Through your eyes, he looks larger than life,” she says softly, and his fingers flex. Even if she hadn’t known Godric was his Maker, the way this man makes him feel is as clear as any emotion she’s felt herself. He is death and life, the end and the beginning. 

“He is,” Eric says—not was, she takes note of that—and when he starts to pull back she releases his hand and lets hers drop to the tabletop. She feels tapped out after that, exhausted, and Eric nods his head once in her direction. “That is a remarkable gift you have.”

“It’s something,” she says casually, as if she didn’t just travel over a thousand years in her mind and pull out his last memory of human life, as if she didn’t feel like she was inside him, a part of him, his heart, his head, his hands. She sits there, speechless for a moment, and then Eric takes a deep, exaggerated breath.

“Well, I should get back to Fangtasia—I’m happy to see you’re settling in,” he tells her, and when he stands she stands, walks him to the door. It closes behind him, and she feels both strangely invigorated by his presence, and deeply conflicted by his departure.

At Fangtasia, Pam waits for Eric at the front door. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, her heels clicking on the floor as she follows him back to the office. The crowd naturally parts for them, and though Eric probably attributes it to his aura—he’s been acting strangely woo-woo lately, talking about witches and energy and vibrations and the like—it’s more likely his huge, hulking frame and the fact that his expression alone would kill, if such a thing were possible. “You know I find it distasteful to be left alone with the humans for so long.” 

“I had an errand to run,” he says, but he smells like wine and the girl, there’s no mistaking it. Errands, her perky ass. 

“How is she?” she asks as he slides into the chair behind the desk, stretching back so he can hook his ankles over the edge of the desk. It’s even worse than manspreading. He looks up at her like he’s not sure what she means, and she crosses her arms over her chest and blinks. “Our new employee. Camila. That’s who you were with, isn’t it?” 

“You don’t care how she is,” is all he says in response, and she leans over and smacks his boots so his feet fall to the floor. Pam knows that only happened because he let it, and she bites back a fond smile.

“No, I don’t, but apparently you do. I thought you were obsessed with Sookie when she came along, but this girl has you… buying apartment buildings, and promising your protection, and you’ve barely known her for a week.” 

She hopes he doesn’t take her tone for jealousy, because it’s not, not really; she’s just never seen him this infatuated, and it’s freaking her out a little, if she’s being honest. Like it or not, her life, her comfort, relies very heavily on Eric and his… happiness isn’t quite the right word, but when he is content, her nights tend to be much smoother, more enjoyable all around. She gets to drink from an endless supply of young, willing, rich-blooded partygoers instead of traipsing around the woods and ruining her favorite pumps, or trapping moronic anti-vampers and using them to set an example for their friends.

“You have no idea how important she is going to be. No idea,” he repeats, and his voice has that strangely mystical quality about it again, a faint undertone of magic that hovers around its edges. He’s been to see a witch, she thinks, or had his fortune told, something that’s led him to believe this girl and her gift are crucial to whatever he has planned. It sends a chill down her spine that she’s unable to fight. “Her gift is going to make us unconquerable.”

After a long pause, he pulls out his laptop from the top drawer, opens it, which she knows is equivalent to dismissing her, and she sighs softly and makes her way back out to the floor. 

“I cannot believe you’re working for Eric,” Sookie says as she hangs a handful of pressed skirts in Cam’s bedroom closet. Her typical uniform is very different from Sookie’s, the blonde notices. Across the room, Cam carefully arranges gold jewelry in a tiered acrylic box with satin lined drawers.

“It’s as close as I can get to my old job for now, and I’m not really in a position to be picky, or I wouldn’t have come back to Louisiana at all—no offense,” she throws over her shoulder. Sookie tuts and waves her hand.

“None taken. I know where my heart is,” she assures her cousin. Like all small town girls, Sookie sometimes kicks herself for never leaving Bon Temps, but more often than not she loves her hometown, its history, her family’s legacy. 

Gran’s, at least.

She grabs a pile of folded sweaters in cashmere and various knits, stacks them in the space above the closet rod. “Aren’t you at all worried he’s going to use you to hurt people?” 

Behind her, Cam takes a long, careful breath and turns to face Sookie.

“One thing you have to understand—especially if you and Bill are in it for the long haul—is that vampire justice is different. I know it shouldn’t be, but until now they've been non-existent in terms of conventional law. They have their own systems in place—hierarchies, rules, punishments—and we can’t step in and tell them how to behave overnight just because we think we know better.” 

Sookie shoots her a look—as pro-vamp as she is, she admits she’s not comfortable accepting their more violent tendencies, especially where humans are involved. Cam only shrugs. 

“I’m going to defer to Eric’s expertise as sheriff, but I’ll call it like I see it. If he’s being unnecessarily cruel or unjust, I’m not afraid to discuss it with him. If his actions seem to be aligned with the usual nature of his business, I’ll excuse myself.” She walks toward the bed, picks up a pile of panties, mostly black, and places them into the top drawer of a light-colored dresser. When she turns back to Sookie, it’s clear that Cam can read the expression on her face, one of thinly-veiled awe. “What?” she asks, and Sookie smiles, shakes her head. 

“I don't know, I guess… Just, when did you get so confident? So smart, so sure of yourself?” Cam had always been the leader, strong where Sookie was soft, sure where Tara was uncertain, and though Sookie feels like they’ve all come into their own in recent years, she is so pleasantly surprised at the absolute stunner her cousin has become—physically and intellectually. She feels as proud as Cam’s mom would if she were around, Sookie’s sure.

“It’s been a long ten years, Sookie,” is all Cam says, and though she can tell there is more to that statement, she can also sense that now isn’t the time to get into that. Later, someday. 

“Yeah, it has. I just wish I was half as comfortable as you in this new world… sometimes I think I stick out like a sore thumb,” Sookie admits, lifting a stack of shoe boxes and lining them up on the floor of the closet. Cam steps over to join her, adds a couple pairs of boots, and puts her hand on Sookie’s shoulder.

“You’re like a sunflower growing among dead grass. It’s not a bad thing to stick out,” she promises with a smile that crinkles the corner of her eyes, and Sookie pats her hand in gratitude continues to help her settle in.

[summonerluna]

Word Search Tag Game

Rules: In a new post use the words below (or choose your own) to find where they appear in your WIP/s and share those parts.

I've been tagged in this a bunch of times, so I'm going to answer a bunch of posts and then queue them so they don't get flood anyone's dash!

From @hurricane105, I was given the words: breath, light, velvet

Breath: from part of the puppet Zelda post-totk angst fest I'm doing with @sheikfangirl:

He loves and hates the times that she is close. Hovering over him, like his first night on the surface, and whispering into his neck like when she saved him from the nightmarish hands. She is never quite her, never quite right, but he can feel her. Her breath, cold against his skin and her eyes haunted as she whispers to him that she is waiting for him.

Light: Too many options for "light" in Zelink fic, so I'm going with a Final Fantasy VIII fic I've been working on for ages and swear I'm going to finish it. Disaster Bi Irvine. Vampires. New Orleans aesthetic.

“Did she now. Come, come.” Laurent leads them to a window beside the aquarium. The couple from before have since vacated, no doubt to a bedroom, or closet, or just another unoccupied corner, and for the moment, Irvine and Laurent have the room to themselves. Laurent’s face glows in the light from the aquarium, blue reflecting in eyes that sweep over Irvine in a way that almost makes him blush. “You can see it from here,” he says, pointing. “Valencia seems to thrive on finding wayward souls along the waterfront and bringing them to her parties.” There are two blocks worth of rooftops between them and a dark strip only identifiable as water because of the fragmented reflection of moonlight.

Velvet: In all of my numerous documents including the one above where I KNOW I have visualized velvet drapery, I don't have the word velvet. So I went with silk instead. This is from a future chapter of Ashes:

“I’ll take you,” she says. “If Impa says it’s okay.” “It’s true, they don’t allow men there?” “It’s true,” Zelda says. She thinks of the silks under Link’s stairs. Zelda said they would go together, so she could meet Riju. Is Riju like Urbosa, she wonders. How different is the desert of now from the one in her memories?  “I would like that,” Paya says. “I haven’t traveled very much. Grandmother said it wasn’t safe. But she would probably let me go if it was with you and Master Link.”

I know most of the zelink community has already done this so I'm gonna start by tagging my FFVIII friends, given there's proof I haven't abandoned that fandom in this post! @aleheartilly @angelosearch @suleikashideaway @irishais. You words are: rough, yellow, glass

[oh-no-another-idea]

Find the word tag

Thanks for this one, @tabswrites! (Don't look at how long ago it was, just take my word for it 😫) I've been given the words time, sky, dirt and space, and I'm going hunting for them in Bent Nails or Something :D

Time:

“No, not really,” Sutton said. “My mom’s been trying to get me to go out and meet the other kids around here, but like. That’s an intimidating order.” “Why?” Michael asked, interested. “They’ll probably be glad to meet someone new and exciting.” Sutton gazed at him and slurped her orange popsicle. “It’s been a long time since you were in high school, hasn’t it.”

Sky:

“I promise,” [Angela] said, with Sutton's gravitas. And then – taking the spatula handed to her and putting it in the dish drain – “Where will you go? When you leave.” “Wherever I want,” Michael said with relish. “I can find work anywhere. I can live any way, where the sky is wide and nothing and nobody has any strings tied to me. I’ll be free.”

Dirt: [things heating up in the sportsball fandoms 🙄]

“It’s baseball,” the boy who was probably Todd muttered from the far end of the bench. “How hard could it be?” “Shut up, Todd,” called another voice, and Bobby the ballplayer himself strode into view. The front of his t-shirt and shorts were stained red with dirt. “No one asked you to come watch. I thought you’d be too busy throwing that little melon around anyways.”

Space:

“I’m going to rip that wall down.” Jacob pointed. “That’s the living room through there, with the view out the back. Then we’re gonna halve that wall, let the counter border the dining room. It’ll feel like twice the space with all the new light, trust me.” Then he said, “Satisfactory, sunshine?” Sutton turned. Michael was standing in the doorway, glowering dark enough to be a raincloud. “Look,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with. Give Sutton a mallet or something.”

@awritingcaitlin @cherrybombfangirlwrites @mary-is-writing @talesofsorrowandofruin @acertainmoshke and anyone else who sees this -- your new words are possess, much, outrage, and luck!

[aerodaltonimperial]

It’s nearing mid-December, I’m loopy as shit due to being heavily medicated for preschool germs that finally took me out, and that means I am gonna be REALLY SAPPY about fandom and fic and stuff for a hot minute, sorry in advance lol.

When 2024 started, fandom was, for me, kind of a shit show. We still didn’t know what was happening with Jack or if he’d ever come back to AEW and were heading into month five of his complete social media exile and disappearance. I had lost most of my OG fandom group after I deliberately walked away from the pairing I’d built my entire fandom reputation on. I was really feeling the effects of the overall decline across all fandoms of engagement and interaction, as things became less community-oriented and more of the (still true) TikTok content creation expectation that we’re still struggling against. It was a tough time! I really wasn’t sure I would stay! (In fact, in January of ‘24, I actually did step away for awhile, thinking I was probably done.)

The year 2024 starting saw me in this fandom writing almost solely for a pairing that A) did not exist prior to me getting obsessed with them in the spring of 2023, B) had not interacted in canon since May of 2023, C) half of whom was not even known to be ALIVE as the new year rolled over, and D) had never, ever been fandom darlings, let alone an actual thing beyond me dragging a few friends into rarepair hell with me.

That’s a really difficult way to be in a fandom! It can get lonely and difficult to keep motivation, and I feel like wrestling in general is hard anyway, simply because of the sheer number of characters and pairings and every single person in this fandom has attached themselves to something different. It’s a tough fandom to be in if you are creating, for sure, because you are really at the mercy of so much outside your control, haha.

We are ending 2024 in a way I never could have predicted, and I’m just so grateful for everyone who has been here or joined in this year or just supported me continuing to write the same crap all the time even if you don’t care much for them! 💚 Thanks to the feud I could not possibly have anticipated actually getting in canon, I was able to find so many new friends this year in fandom. We hit 100 works in the pairing tag before my birthday! I know it’ll never hit the numbers that the OG pairings in this fandom have, but that’s okay, and that was never anything I even expected. I’m just so happy that people are still open to reading my stuff and that I’ve got so many new people to flail excitedly with!

That’s really the part of fandom that matters to me: community. I love flailing with people, and being excited about stuff with people, and bouncing ideas off people. I love creating with people, because for me, that’s what it’s always been about. Being the sole creator gets really isolating, even if you love what you’re doing. And losing my original group I created with definitely factored into how tough I found times this past year and a half.

I didn’t get into this fandom expecting to make waves or anything, haha. I’m still kind of surprised that this rarepair ever took off and got as big as it has managed to, given everything. I wrote a shit ton of words this year as I dealt with the aftermath of finally admitting I failed at traditional publishing, and I’m beyond grateful that people took time out of their lives to read my silly fics. Sometimes people tell me that my fics made them smile on a bad day, or that they go back and reread old ones because they really like them, and I’ll never be able to explain how much that means to me to hear. I am so, so glad that I can make a handful of people happy with what I write. 💚

2024 was a weird year for me. My relationship with writing has fundamentally changed, probably forever, in the wake of failure. This fandom has had some real ups and downs for me that have changed the way I interact with people here. But I’ve also written some things I’m really, really proud of this year. And I’ve made some new friends who are so important to me through fandom. In the end, I’m still here, and I’m still finding joy in creating (when the depression isn’t bad), and I’m just really glad that you are here, too. Thanks for being part of things with me, everyone. 💚

[bluejaysandblackbats]

The Kinker's Stowaway

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: The Graysons take in a young stowaway (Jason Todd) during the Prohibition era and he falls in love with the circus.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Dick Grayson, John Grayson, Mary Grayson, Jason Todd, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): John Grayson/Mary Grayson

Additional Tags: John and Mary Grayson Live, No Capes AU, Circus AU, Haly's Circus, Fluff, Dick Grayson's POV, Jason Todd Leaves Gotham City

Chapter One: The Rails

In the fall on the East Coast, the train cars got so cold you’d have to bundle up in two pairs of pajamas over your long johns. So most tramps that hopped onto our box cars didn’t make it through the night. It was our last month before we called it quits, so everyone was tired and worn down. Myself included. The train chugged along, lulling us to sleep, shaking to a stop, and waking us up as we approached our second-to-last city. I walked from my room to my parents’, knocking on the side and they opened their door. “Good morning, Dick,” Mom smiled, “You’re in good spirits today.” 

“Buying a book before rehearsal. Do you want anything?” I asked. I always ventured into town when we started in a new place. Especially since I turned eighteen, it gave me a chance to meet people and get a feel for the city before things got hectic. And I’d meet a pretty girl here and there. We left Gotham a few days ago. We stopped lingering there when we ran into trouble with an extortionist when I was twelve. The police dealt with him at the request of a socialite who witnessed everything, but we got in and out just to be safe. 

Dad yawned and stretched. “Aftershave and oranges for me, Dick,” Dad replied. I nodded, looking at the new tinges of grey in his brows. Mom tapped her chin. 

“Oh, Dick! Bring me five yards of tweed and five yards of silk,” Mom replied. 

“What color?” I asked. 

“Whatever colors you want for you and your father’s new suit jackets. Two and a half yards for you. Two and a half for him… And Dick. Pick something nice. We’re taking pictures in Florida at the end of the month,” Mom replied. I smiled and nodded. 

“Aftershave, oranges, five yards tweed, and five yards silk. Got it,” I repeated. Mom hugged me, stopping to cradle my face with her persistent worries written all over her doll-like face. “Mom, I love you. I’ll be alright.” 

“I know… I know but don’t stay gone too long,” Mom replied. I nodded. 

Dad patted my face. “I love you, Dick. Behave yourself out there,” Dad warned me. It was a fair warning. I’d garnered a reputation for being a bit hotheaded. Mom never saw it that way. In her eyes, I could do no wrong. Dad knew better. I lived for thrills, but I wasn’t malicious. Not always . 

“Love you, Dad,” I replied as I slipped away to wash up and get dressed. I buttoned my coat and Mom gave me the money to run errands for her. I started toward town, walking down to the last car and around the corner when I heard one of the bullhands hassling a little boy. 

“Let go ‘a me!” he shouted. 

I stopped and pounded the side of the cargo car. “Hey, Chuckie. Let him go. He’s just a kid. What’s he gonna do?” I asked. 

“I caught this dip snooping around the cars. I think he followed us here from Gotham City,” Chuckie replied. I grinned and took the kid off Chuckie’s hands, grabbing him by his collar when he turned tail to run. 

“Easy. I’m not gonna hurt you,” I reassured him. He was a skinny, scrappy little thing. Dirty face, torn coat, baggy pants, and one heck of a goog. “Who hit you?” 

“None of your—!” I shook him up a little. 

“I’m trying to help you out. Answer my questions, and I’ll buy you something to eat. I’m sure you could use a meal,” I offered, “Wanna tell me where you come from?”

“Gotham City,” he answered, “What do you want with me?”

“Nothing… Where are your folks?” I asked. “Mine are in the third car up front.”

“My folks are dead,” he spat. I frowned, and I think that took him off guard because he softened up. “I wasn’t gonna steal anything more than a few meals. I would’ve been gone without bothering anybody—.” 

I released his collar and gestured with a quick tilt of my neck for him to come along. “Hurry up. I’ve gotta run a few errands for my parents… And don’t worry about Chuckie. He’s just doing his job,” I smiled, “I’m Dick. Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons.” 

“Jason Todd,” he answered as he reached to shake my hand. Polite . “Nice to meet you… Sorry that I was short with you.” 

“It’s alright. I’m short with most people,” I gently answered. Jason followed me six miles into town, and we stopped at a little restaurant. It opened as the sun came up. We sat at the counter, and I grabbed him a menu. I dipped a napkin in water before washing Jason’s face. He struggled at first, but he eventually accepted the gesture. “You look like a decent kid under all that grease and dirt.” 

“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Jason promised. 

“Why?” I asked. He blinked hard, but the waitress took our order before he could reply. Jason got a bowl of hot cereal and milk. I got half a grapefruit and a cup of coffee. Jason ate fast, only stopping when I smoothed his hair down. “If you’re still hungry I’ll get you some coffee cake.” He chewed his lip and swallowed hard. 

“What’re you being so nice to me for?” Jason asked. 

“I don’t know. Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? You haven’t done anything wrong to me,” I answered. My parents would’ve done more if it had been them. “Eat your oatmeal.” 

He obeyed, quietly eating until he finished, and turned to me with his big blue eyes, showing me his empty bowl. “Still hungry?” Jason didn’t answer, so I answered for him. I bought two coffee cakes, and we took them with us. 

He smiled as he ate, looking up to thank me. I walked with him until we found a department store. I got my mom’s fabric and my dad’s aftershave there. “What’s your mom like?” Jason asked. 

“She’s nice. Mom loves children. She’s been in the circus most of her life… So has Dad… You’d like my dad. He loves a good joke. I’m not doing them any justice with this description… You’ll have to meet them,” I replied. Jason shrank, raising his shoulders to his ears. “No one’s gonna bother you…” I don’t know why, but I wanted him to stick around. 

Jason took my hand after he finished eating. I squeezed his little hand after I ran my parents’ errands, and we went to the nearest bookstore. “Do you want a book, too?” I asked. 

“I can’t pay you back. I don’t even—.” 

“We’re friends… Aren’t we? What’s a gift between two pals?” I interrupted. Jason smiled. 

We left with two books each and walked back toward the train. He helped me carry the bags. “Jason? How old are you?” I asked. 

“Twelve. I’ll be thirteen in August,” Jason answered, “How old are you?” 

“Eighteen… Did you go to school in Gotham?” I questioned. He nodded. “What’s that like? You’re in junior high… Aren’t you?” 

“Mhm. I can’t imagine you’d find something like school exciting. Your family flies for a living,” Jason replied, “I like school… Don’t get me wrong, but your life seems a lot more fun.” 

I nodded. “It’s fun, but it’s work. Sometimes it hurts… And it takes trust to do what we do,” I explained, “It’s dangerous, Jason.” 

“I bet. Which place was your favorite? Is it always the same?” Jason asked.

“Probably San Francisco. You’d like it there. Maybe you’d like it, too,” I suggested. 

“I’ll never get that far—.” 

I shot him a look. “Don’t say that. You’ll go wherever you like,” I interrupted, “Besides, you might get to come with us if you stick around.” I wanted him to stick around. Some things you just get a feeling about.

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” Pt 6

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader

Rating: PG-13? For this part maybe?

Tags/Warnings: feeding kink, belly kink, chubby Hoffman (duh obviously), bratty behavior, banter, switchy behavior for both characters, animal name calling/terms (lotta bear and maybe some pig and/or cat endearments here), general adult language

Summary: It’s Hoffman’s birthday so his secretary takes him out (even if her motivation is pretty selfish).

Author’s Notes: Written as a light, little distraction, so please enjoy—hopefully it’s a nice little distraction for you too.

None of these installments really take place in any particular order, btw. They’re just little slices of life.

WAY MORE emphasis on the feedery stuff in this one. Just be warned (or be excited idk).

As usual, there might be grammatical and spelling errors that I’ll try and fix later.

Hoffman begrudgingly (though still tender and endeared towards you) let you drag him around downtown, settling at some nice though generic enough restaurant that you had made reservations at. He wasn’t a man super keen and enthused about celebrations and milestones, which was why he moved hesitantly along when you sprung it on him that you were taking him out for his birthday. It took some investigative work on your own, under his nose, but in a workplace where everything about everyone was on record, in print, it wasn’t hard to learn his birthdate.

“Cheer up, you big grumpy bear,” you chimed, guiding him towards the restaurant entrance with a hand on his back.

“You must really be sweet on me to go to this trouble. You know I don’t care about this kinda thing.”

“Don’t make it sound sappy,” you hushed him. “Secretaries do shit like this for their bosses. Keep them organized and on task and content. It may as well be part of my job.”

“I dunno, darlin’. There’s a lot you do for me that isn’t necessarily part of the job description.”

“So don’t let it go to your big head, because maybe that’s for me. Anyways, you better say thank you. You’re gonna love it here.” You bustled around hautily, feeling as though you should have clipped a leash to your boss to get him to haul his ass. (“He’d probably like that,” you noted.)

His stern features softened, taking a moment to cast a glance down at you warmly. “I know I will, babydoll. Maybe I’m humoring you because you went to so much trouble. And you look so pretty.” His look took a sassy slant as he looped a finger through a loose strand of hair hanging by your ear.

“Oh yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes (one time of hundreds to come that night). You leaned your head away, strand of hair untangling from his finger. “You’re humoring me? You act like you’re not excited to eat.”

“I think you’re the one excited that I’m gonna be eating,” he grinned in that smug feline way. He made a demonstration of grazing a hand over his softened belly, which you smacked lightly.

You took hold of his necktie (a nicer heather purple one you had picked out and left in his office that morning, almost as a threatening reminder of the occasion) and yanked it lightly, bringing his face down towards yours. “We can turn around and leave. Because you don’t sound so excited to have a nice dinner, birthday boy.” You sliced in the moniker like a cutting insult.

Hoffman enclosed his large hands around yours, still encircling his tie. “This is very sweet of you, and I would love nothing more than to have my very beautiful—and very hard ass—assistant spoil me and shove cake in my mouth for dessert.”

Your eyes lit up. “I’ll shove cake in your mouth if you’re good and finish all your food. All of it.”

“Whatever you want, honey. I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

You loosened your hand from his tie, letting your fingertips drift down his chest. “I’m gonna roll you outta here when we’re done,” you whispered, voice a little rough on the edges with excitement. But it was so goofy you had to giggle.

“That’s kinky, baby. I wish you would.” He gave you that snarky grin once again and let you drag him through the foyer by his jacket lapel.

—

You had sort of glazed over what all Hoffman had eaten, even though he let you order each course for him. The only vague reminders were the remaining dishes with crumbles of sausage and sauce, or some coated in chimichurri and bloody steak juices. A lot of meat and pasta for a big guy, you justified.

More attention was paid to how worn Hoffman was looking, and how he had adjusted his pants as he finished off each dish. You had noticed at two separate points his hands roamed downwards to undo some buttons; the first time was the lowest button on his shirt, which tucked uncomfortably tight under the curve of his belly; the second time was the main button on his pants, which would have been straining more obviously if not for his belt and suspenders keeping him strapped into his clothes.

You peeked under the table to confirm which buttons and other clasps had come undone. Grinning, you reached your high heel across the booth to toe at his gut teasingly.

You could see him wince slightly as he gripped your ankle and started massaging your calf—all an attempt to stop poking at his overfull belly.

“Please, baby, none of that now,” he pleaded softly, tiredly. He was so cute and pathetic with his sleepy blue eyes and his muffled little burps, all the while still tending to rubbing your leg (as if it wasn’t his own birthday that he should have been pampered on).

“So no cake?” you pried, eyebrows raised.

He looked at you somewhat defeated—all typical traces of sarcasm and cockiness dulled down (but never completely gone). “Can we take it to go? I think I need to lay down.”

“Of course, Hoffy-Bear. I’ll be nice about it since it’s your birthday. I guess.” You blepped your tongue out at him before gesturing towards the server for a little to-go cake and the check (on Hoffman’s card of course).

Once those final details had been squared away, you took your time getting up from the booth, savoring the way your boss heaved himself to his feet. The way he pulled himself up and out from the cushy red seating was such a feat, looking heavy and laborious. He hadn’t bothered fastening back up the two loosened buttons, but instead did the whole maneuver of hoisting his belt and waistband up with a small grunt.

He wasn’t the type to let on that he was struggling—at least not in public—and so kept his whining and wincing under his breath… Though his shallow breathing was hard to mask. Especially with the foolish attempts to suck in his gut, which barely moved with his inhale, so it rounded out burdensomely in front of him. Being so stuffed and moving so cautiously only emphasized the distinct waddle in his gait.

“Need help?” you couldn’t help but pipe up, spikes and lace all in your tone. As you stood, you placed one hand on his lower back—as you had when you all had entered—but the other secured firmly to his stomach, all solid and warm.

“Thought you were gonna be nice,” he grumbled at you.

You just giggled, guiding him out with slow, steady steps.

—

“Comfy, sir?” you inquired in an overly-babying tone.

You two had hauled it back to your apartment (Hoffman was seldom big on having you over at his, blaming the lack of comfort or too much mess) where you had let your boss settle back onto your bed. Lacey, silky trimmings fluttered around him as he took in the comfort of all your pillows under his back and head.

He didn’t quite answer, though he looked to be on the brink of sleep: eyes shading down lower than usual, blue irises glassy. A fragile “Mmmm” left his lips.

“Too tired for that birthday cake?” you prodded.

“Ugh… I guess not. Not if you promise to be sweet on me if I eat it.”

“Of course, Hoffy. Anyways, you gotta blow out your candle and make a wish.”

He nodded incoherently, allowing you the moment to retrieve the cake in the kitchen and plate it up with a single lit candle.

When you returned, seating yourself within the little room his lap allowed, he had groggily repositioned himself so that his suspenders were undone and slack at his sides, with one hand enveloped beneath his undershirt, and the other clutching one of your stuffed animals in the cleft between his chest and his tummy. It was too adorable. If he was more awake to catch you gawking he would’ve barbed something smart off at you. But he was so damn tired.

“Okay make a wish,” you instructed, cake held out in front of his face.

“Not even gonna sing to me, huh?”

“Do you really want me to?”

You exchanged shit-giving glances before he blew out the little flame. You immediately scooped a heaping bite of Devil’s Food onto the fork and poised it before his lips, your other hand gingerly propping his chin up.

Without question, he slid his mouth over the fork, pinkened thick lips becoming slick with frosting and saliva.

The motion repeated in silence, save for some quiet groans and hiccups on his part. The thing was, the slice was bigger than typical—really meant to serve two to four people.

“Such a good boy for finishing all that,” you cooed with a slight edge of condescending playfulness. “Whatta big bear.” You set the plate aside and gave his belly a light but firm pat. Other than the very obvious visual evidence, you could feel how stuffed he was in how his gut barely had any give to the touch, under that black, stiff, starched fabric. Only a solid wobble as he shifted around and breathed.

“Ugh, I feel like going into hibernation. You don’t need to coddle me like that,” he snipped, too incapacitated to sound threatening.

“Maybe I wanna. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing I guess. Too full of cake… Which is entirely your fault.”

You were about to sass him for such choice words, when you decided to indulge in the situation instead. You spread your fingers over his broad sides, brushing up against the dips of his love handles, and raked your touch in a deep massage.

Hoffman squirmed slightly, a tiny frustrated grunt bumbling from his lips. “Knew it.”

“What?” you feigned offense, not relenting at your soft, slow presses into his bulk.

“This wasn’t for my birthday, this was so you could get me all fat and sleepy and play with me like I’m some kinda toy.”

“Aren’t you? My big stuffed bear,” you laughed lightly.

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you. Nonetheless he reached a hand over one of yours, guiding your smaller palm around his gut. “Right there… Ah… Yes. Like that. A little softer, please.”

“Usually I’d give you shit for trying to micromanage me, but I did promise to be nice.”

“That’s right.” Hoffman pinched your chin with his free hand.

You undid the rest of his shirt buttons, looking over how the tight white shirt underneath had rolled up over the curve of his stomach.

“I know it’s not typical,” he went on, “but would it be so bad if I fell asleep here tonight? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“I made a point to take tomorrow off. So if I’m not at work, neither are you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” you murmured, roaming your hands up to his face, pushing away the unkempt curtain of black hair that had previously been slicked back. “Well, I’ll be sure to get up early anyways. Gotta make you a decent breakfast.”