#st prompt

[strangerwheelerthings]

Why did this scene of all things, immediately make me realize Annabeth Chase and Nancy Wheeler are basically the same person.

Them: *deadly group leaders with big brains*

Also Them: *in the middle of a serious quest* DOGGY!

[basiltonpitch]

worst feeling ever is when i agree with 99% of a post but then there's that 1% that makes me want to set fire to op's blog

[gglinaa]

spirk suggestion...... jim making spock blush and almost smile from kissing his ears or something.......its in the Rules that his ears are sensitive, and hes so serious and unemotional But when he does show a little bit of whats underneath his carefully crafted existence, its just so sweet. yknow?

I KNOW ANON. i know.

[azuzulira]

So, reveal gone right. Maddie and Jack are nothing but supportive of Danny. Of course they feel guilty, for their bigotry, attacking their son, never even noticing the accident. It's Jasmine that proposes a family bonding activity, to spend time together and work through the years of issues that they can only now address.

The activity in question? Family Road Trip & Field Study! That's right; what better way for a family of scientists to bond than correcting literal decades of bad science? Which is how the Fenton family, alongside Sam and Tucker at Danny's request, wound up in Gotham, hoping to interview one of the strongest Genii Loccorum in America.

Of course, there's more than a few ectoplasmic encounters waiting for them in Gotham. Everything from an angry Revenant, to a baby liminal that Danny just knows is related to the guy who's been bathing in dirty ecto for like centuries, to a horde of restless spirits following some clown like a permanent thunderstorm.

[travelingtwentysomething]

Prompt: “Pick a god and pray” they said, and you did, praying to every god you knew. And as you did this a name popped into your mind, one you didn’t recognize, yet you prayed to them all the same. In response the air stood still, like even the world had forgotten their name.

Devotion Tastes So Sweet On Your Lips (AO3)

It was another one of those nights- Steve was running through the dark trees, waking nightmare chasing him down.

He prayed his footing stayed true. He prayed that his breaths didn't falter. He prayed that the hungry darkness falling fast in his shadow didn't catch him.

He prayed to all the gods. Every deity he had ever learned of, all the new gods, and the old. He prayed until the sweat burning his eyes blinded him and he felt a root leap up in front of his foot.

He stumbled but did not fall.

But the sound of a snapping maw was closing around the dust he kicked up.

Suddenly, in his desperation, a name floated from the depths of his erratic heart to the tip of his bitten tongue.

"Eddie the Banished, of the Fallen Forest— Please- Please," Steve huffed, a force behind the name punched through his diaphragm and left him no air to plead with.

No sooner had the name fallen from Steve's lips, than the ground fell away beneath him- an embankment, steep and unforgiving in its angle. He rolled past tree trunks, slid over rough roots, and scraped jagged rocks loose for gravity to bring along for the ride.

His body hit the bottom and bounced.

Steve was dazed, his ears felt muffled as if he had landed underwater. He sat up so fast his vision swam, leaving trails of light where the stars shone down on him under the glare of the full moon.

He tried to stand, but his stomach protested- knees, shaken and unsteady, refused to hold his weight. He fell, once again on his back, trying to catch his bearings.

When his head cleared enough that the moon ceased it's dance in the sky above him, Steve sat up slowly, taking stock of his surroundings. He strained his ears to hear the snap of twigs or the slide of rocks down the slope he had just ridden as his pursuer followed him into the gorge.

It was silent as a ghost.

Steve pressed his palms to his ears and felt no blood, squeezing to try and pressure shock them into working.

He listened again—

Not even a whisper of wind in the trees.

Steve picked up a twig from the soft bed of moss that had saved his limbs from the worst of the abrupt impact and snapped it between his fingers- the sound sharp enough to startle him.

His ears worked just fine, it seemed- it was the forest that was broken.

As Steve got one knee under him, prepared to make another attempt to stand- a shadow fell over him.

Steve kept his head lowered, subdued under the charge in the air- the unmistakable aura of predator.

He slowly raised his eyes, and only his eyes.

There, standing tall above him, was a Wild God.

"It has been... So long-" The voice was grinding stones carried on the wind, "I'd forgotten what it sounded like." The Wild God lowered his body into a facsimile of a bow. A hand that shadows cling to like smoke, finger tips black as the night and ephemeral, ghosted under his chin, raising Steve's eyes to meet the darkness shining in the Wild God's own. "My name on some desperate tongue."

Steve was struck with a lightning heat deep inside his belly that rose like a plume of ashes from the mouth of a volcano, his face burning under the gaze of the most beautiful and terrifying wonder he had ever witnessed.

"Say it again." The Wild God demanded, voice deep enough to shake the ground Steve knelt on.

"Eddie the Banished, of the Fallen Forest." Steve moaned, unabashed.

Eddie's eyes rolled and the whites flickered behind shivering lashes as he savored the taste of devotion.

[vonnebenan]

I just realised I never posted the full picture ... Anyway. I think I'm slowly getting the hang of these pencils.

[insteviewetrust]

Au where Steve was always able to talk to ghosts. He talks to his grandparents regularly, his granny thought him italian when he was little (I do love a italo-american Steve), and how to cook something easy when his parents started to go on longer work trips when he was thirteen. He watched old movies he found in the basement, and soon found out they were his grandpa's. After that, whole afternoons spent watching old westerns on the tv with Otis.

Steve being able to talk to Barb, telling her stories of what's happening, buying the books she wanted to buy but hadn't had the time to, reading them with her, let her cry and scream at the unfairness that was her death- she just wanted to have fun, to be seen and be with Nancy and-. He always cried with her, but rarely said anything. She needed someone to listen to her.

Steve screaming at the others that Eddie wasn't dead, he couldn't be, because he tried to contact him, and he couldn't and that has got to mean something . He would know, he would know, he would know, why don't they trust him?!

Steve deciding to go back to the Upside Down, and not finding Eddie's body. He knew it. But the smugness ended quickly, because if Eddie wasn't there, then where the fuck was he? What had happened?

He soon finds out when a creature with leathery wings and sharp teeths breaths down on the back of his neck, startling him from his panicked thoughts. "Stevie..."

Now with an addiction

[purpleenma]

Spirk but with espooky vampire Spock? :3c

These weeks have been kicking my ass, but I really wanted to sketch vampire Spock and start off with the ask prompts so here we are 🦇✨

I hope that you guys like it even if it's kinda messy and rushed xDU

AO3 link

More vampire Spock here, here and here.

[bloodmoonblitz]

@bylerween2023 Day 4: Sweater Weather! I think i cropped this a lil weird but its still cute too me :P gotta love matching sweaters

[laundrybiscuits]

Eddie’s doing some dumb trick with a couple of wooden spoons, clever hands making them move through the air in improbable ways, and Steve’s about to bite his whisk in half. 

He’d thought for sure that Eddie would be going home the first week; Edward Munson, 29, bartender/musician from Brighton with mismatched tattoos and wild hair, seemed like exactly the kind of pretentious asshole who would flame out early with some ill-advised hipster experimentation. If Steve (28, social worker from Indiana, USA) had been a complete asshole, he’d have said that Eddie didn’t have the fundamentals. That he was all sizzle, no steak. 

It’s a good thing Steve’s not a complete asshole, because Eddie’s been blowing the technicals out of the water so consistently it’s actually pretty fucking embarrassing. His signatures and showstoppers are making a very respectable showing too, except for the time he tried to incorporate some fresh pandan extract and fucked up the liquid ratio, leaving him with a dripping mess that Mary’d declined to even try. 

Afterwards, Steve had seen him leaning against a tree and struggling to light a cigarette. Steve went over for no particular reason, flicking on his lighter and holding it out like a peace offering. Eddie looked at him warily, but bent over the offered flame. 

“Can’t believe I made it through this one,” Eddie said after a moment, white smoke curling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I feel like that every week.” Steve leaned against the tree next to Eddie. It was a big tree, the kind that’s probably been growing in this field since before England was even England. 

“Nah, but—c’mon, you know what I mean.”

“You had some bad luck with your showstopper. Happens to the best of us, man. Your signature hand pies looked sick as hell.” Steve’s own hand pies had turned out pretty well, so he was feeling generous. It had only been the third week; plenty of time for Steve to snag Star Baker, though even by that point, Steve had been getting the creeping feeling that he was being a little too American about the whole thing. Everyone else seemed to think competitiveness was some kind of deadly sin. It was—actually kind of nice, to get the same kind of nerves he’d always gotten before high school basketball games, but know that he wasn’t really fighting against anyone except himself in the tent.

Anyway, the very next week, Eddie had done some kind of kickass gothic castle with a shiny chocolate dragon and gotten Star Baker for the second time. Steve had clapped him on the back, appropriately manly. Eddie had pulled Steve into a real hug, arms tight around Steve’s shoulders and his whole lean body pressed up close and warm. It had only lasted a moment, and then Eddie had bounded over to Mel and Sue, both of whom he’s been thoroughly charming since the get-go. 

Steve thinks that when this season—or, uh, series—airs, no matter where Eddie places, the entire country is going to be just as charmed. Eddie’s going to get whatever kind of cookbook deal or streaming show he wants. Sponsors will take one look at that handsome face and charismatic grin, and a whole world of possibilities is going to open up for Eddie. 

Steve’s not in it for any of that, of course. He’s here kind of by accident, because Robin pushed him to apply, and it’s a goddamn miracle he’s been holding his own. Hell, it’s a miracle he’s in this country at all. When Robin had started looking at the Cambridge MPhil program in linguistics, she’d said wouldn’t it be great if and he’d snorted, yeah right, like I could ever get whatever job I’d need to move to another freaking country, but then—well. Things had happened the way they’d happened, and now Robin’s almost finished with her degree and Steve is taking time off from the London charity he works at in order to be on Bake Off. 

He’s told all this to the cameras, plus the stuff about how baking started as a way for him to connect with the kids he used to babysit in Indiana, blah blah blah. He thinks it’s probably too boring for them to air, but he gets that they have to try to get a story anyway. 

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, is probably going to be featured in all the series promos. Steve is rabidly curious about what Eddie’s story is, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to just ask. It should be the easiest thing in the world. They’ve got kind of a camaraderie going, the two of them; a bit of a bromance, as Mel’s put it more than once. 

It’s true they get along pretty well, and the cameras have been picking up on it: on the way Eddie’ll wander over to Steve’s bench like a stray cat whenever they get some downtime, how they wind up horsing around sometimes, working off leftover adrenaline from the frantic rush of caramelization or whatever. There’s the time Eddie had hopped up on a stool to deliver some kind of speech from Macbeth, of all things, and overbalanced right onto Steve, who had barely managed to keep them both from careening into a stand mixer. Sue had patted Eddie on the shoulder and said, “Well, boys, that’ll be going in the episode for sure.”

They both get along with the other contestants just fine, of course, but they’re two guys of about the same age with no wife and kids waiting at home. It’s only natural that they’re gravitating together, becoming something like friends, Steve figures. It’s pretty great that he’s getting at least one real friend out of this whole thing.

It would be even greater if Steve could stop thinking about Eddie’s hands in decidedly non-friendly ways. With all the paperwork he’s signed, he can’t even complain to Robin about how Eddie looks with his sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on his forearms, kneading dough and grunting a little under his breath with effort. Steve had almost forgotten to pre-heat his oven that day. 

Two benches away, Eddie fumbles the spoons he’s been juggling with a clatter, and he bursts out laughing, glancing over at Steve like Steve’s in on the joke. Steve grins back, heart twanging painfully in his chest, and thinks: well, fuck. Guess this is happening.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 3rd: School | Bad Reputation - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts | Combative

cw: pre-steddie (vaguely set s2), weed, migraines, un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

It’s 1985 and the boys bathroom smells like weed.

Interestingly, the boys bathroom smells like weed before Eddie ditches his last period to smoke in the little cement block room, window cracked and far less obvious than whoever’s in there ahead of him.

Probably a Freshman who doesn’t know any better, or some first-timer who hasn’t learned the ropes yet, he thinks to himself. 

What he doesn’t expect to find when he pushes the heavy wooden door open is recently dethroned King Steve, sitting on the disgusting tile floor smoking a poorly rolled joint in the corner of the bathroom. Wedged between the sink and the wall, he looks… small, sad, lost, even. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d recruit him for Hellfire. He certainly looks the part of lost sheep. 

Steve startles when the door opens and, in what may be the only time in Eddie’s many years at Hawkins High, relaxes when he sees Eddie. Steve’s eyes widen and then look away, back down at his hands. His shoulders clench and drop. His entire body seems to move to defend itself before retreating back into whatever stupor he’s smoking himself into. 

Eddie has no idea what the fuck is happening that Steve Harrington doesn’t take him as a threat after his years of proving himself to be just that. Nor can he imagine what the fuck Steve’s experienced that’s caused it. Seconds pass and Eddie just stands there, door closed behind him, unsure of what to do. Hotboxing the bathroom with Steve hadn’t been his plan, but he’s been desperate for just a few drags off the joint sitting heavy in his pocket all day. 

“You uh, you know that window opens, right?” Eddie asks, gesturing toward the window with his chin. 

Steve doesn’t look up. “Sure do.” 

“Got it. Cool. Okay, uh—” Eddie sputters. He’s had very few interactions with Steve, each one civil enough to leave no bad blood besides the company Steve keeps. Or, well, kept. But none have been long enough for Eddie to get a handle on Steve, not in the way he usually can.

Steve sighs and begins to stand. “I’ll get outta your way, man.” 

Something in the way he moves, the way he grips the sink edge tight and rocks once to gain momentum before Eddie stops him, reminds Eddie of Wayne. Veteran Wayne, who works a harsh manual job and is no less than 25 years their senior. That can’t be normal, he thinks. 

“Hey no, I’m uh, actually here for the same reason. Mind if I just,” Eddie trails off as he locks the door and wiggles his joint around, holding it between his pointer and middle finger. “I’ll crack the window so we don’t get busted.” 

“Yeah, I don’t care, but leave the window closed. It’s too fucking loud.” Steve shrugs and Eddie stops mid-stride. 

Eddie looks back down at the spot Steve has settled back into, his head carefully resting against the painted cinder block wall with closed eyes. It’s easier to watch him like this, long eyelashes spidering across his cheeks and brows furrowing. A tiny line appears between them, vertical, and Eddie holds himself back from smoothing it out. 

“Alright, just know we’re probably gonna get caught.” Eddie compromises as he sits on a toilet, the stall door open, and lights up. 

The flick of his lighter brings him a moment’s comfort, followed by the familiar warmth curling into his lungs. His throat burns and he coughs once, then twice, before exhaling. Little puffs of smoke leave his lips in one long, continuous breath. Immediately, the frustration of his meeting with the guidance counselor, the anger at his English teacher for failing him when he was fucking trying, the shame and disappointment of having to go home and tell Wayne he’s being left back– again– vanish. He knows it’s temporary, that it’ll all come rushing back to him in an hour or two, but for now, his brain is quiet. 

For now, the bathroom is silent. Long moments pass in surprisingly comforting stillness, just Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington in the strangest show of camaraderie imaginable. 

Eventually though, Eddie’s lips loosen.  

“Why are you in here anyways? Shouldn’t you be like… I don’t know,” Eddie starts, miming the act of dribbling a basketball. “Doing some sport thing?”

“I do more than play sports, Munson.” Steve’s eyes roll and he shakes his head, grimacing at the movement. Eddie can’t quite put it together, what that reaction means. 

“Huh. Coulda fooled me. And probably like, the rest of the school’s population. The rest of your Kingdom,” Eddie teases, gesturing widely with both arms. 

“There’s no Kingdon, you ass. Much as you pretend to stay outta the gossip, I know you know what happened. And I’m glad it did, so drop it, okay?”

Steve has a bite to him, an attitude that Eddie admires and can’t help push a bit further. 

“So you fall from grace and now you sit on grungy bathroom floors to smoke? Alone? That’s sorta my thing, just say–”

Eddie’s words get drowned out when Steve interrupts. “I’m down here smoking, alone, because I have a fucking migraine. If I have to see one more fluorescent light or hear one more high-pitched screech in the hallway, my brain is going to leak out of my goddamn ears.” 

Even stoned, Eddie puts it together all at once. The closed window. The cool tiles. The struggle to get up. He doesn’t know the full story, but he remembers Steve walking around with his face beaten in and the rumors that it’d been Billy’s doing during a fight, and the time before that, when Jonathan had gotten a few good shots in. Damn his bleeding heart, but Steve suddenly feels more like a lost sheep than he could’ve imagined.

Someone Eddie feels the urge to protect. 

Eddie stands carefully, all too aware of the sound of his own footsteps as he finds the hidden switch to turn the lights off. There’s still a tiny bit of light filtering in from beneath the door and through the window, but it’s darker. Safer. 

“I can be quiet.” 

Steve looks up at him, brows drawn tight in confusion, and Eddie’s chest aches. How infrequently does someone care for Steve?

“I’ve been in classes with you. I’m not so sure you can,” Steve retorts, a little less sarcastic now. Eddie makes a show of sitting back down on the toilet and mimicking zipping his lips and throwing away a key. It gets an actual laugh from Steve, and goddamn him, Eddie loves the sound of that. 

Eddie watches as Steve’s eyes close again, this time with a relaxed forehead, and stares at him while they  finish their joints. Alone, together. Maybe they could actually be friends, Eddie and Steve. Steve and Eddie. There’s a ring to it that Eddie hates because of how good it sounds. 

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by a rattling at the door and subsequent pounding. Steve’s eyes open and dart between Eddie and the door. “Fuck,” he whispers. 

Fuck is right, Eddie thinks. If he wasn’t already getting held back again, he would be now for what he’s about to do.

He crouches over next to Steve and takes what’s left of his joint from his fingers. “Do you have anything else on you?” 

Steve shakes his head No and opens his mouth, only for Eddie to press a finger against his lips. “Get in the stall and flush the toilet when I open the door.” 

“What–”

“Get in the stall,” Eddie whispers harshly, helping Steve to stand and all but shoving him in the stall he’d been in previously. 

“Dude, they’re gonna know I’m here, it’s fine,” Steve resigns. 

“Not if you have nothing on you, just say you had to take a piss and I was already in here. I’ve got a reputation, you don’t. Who are they gonna believe? Besides, I’m not graduating and you are. Consider it a graduation gift.” 

Before he can open the bathroom door, before he takes the fall as planned because of course, the principal believes the story they’d concocted, Eddie feels Steve place a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks.“

As he’s dragged to the Principal's office and suspended, an all too familiar setting, he hopes it’s not the last time he gets to smoke with Steve Harrington.

[inklessletter]

I am totally convinced that every single one of The Party's children think of Eddie and Steve as the coolest grown ups in the whole history of grown ups. And of course they think that, because why wouldn't they, when they always invade the inflatable castle at any birthday party, roaring and yelling "we are big scary dragons and this castle is ours now!" and when the kids flee the place, they find the whole backyard scattered with soft weapons, ready for the full bunch of nine kids to take one and fight them to death to claim the castle back.

Dustin exclaims with his most annoyed face how unbelievable and immature that behavior is, and Erica points out rolling her eyes that one of them once ran Operation Child Endangerment (although he still buys her ice creams anytime).

It takes the kids saying twice that Steve and Eddie are their favorites grown ups when the whole Party jumps into the castle as well, some teaming up with the kids, some becoming dragons too.

To be fair, they're the favorites grown ups of the history of grown ups for them, too.

[spockfallsinlove]

Prompt: Spock’s hands are injured and since Vulcan hands are so sensitive he can’t help but cry about it

"Shit," Jim is saying, over and over, as he digs the salve out of his bag. "Shit, hang on, shit—"

Spock, for his part, is biting down on his cheek so hard that he tastes blood, his hands held out in front of him and shaking. The burns aren't severe, but the pain is enough for his telepathic bonds to be burned themselves.

The storm rages outside the cave they've found themselves in. Lightning had struck as they were running to find shelter, causing a fire. Jim was trapped and Spock didn't give it a second thought when he pulled the burning debris off of Jim, his hands scalding from the embers.

"Jim," he croaks out, his voice shaking despite his best efforts. He doesn't know what he's asking for.

Jim uncaps the salve, hands steady as he scoops out a dollop. "This will hurt," he says. "I'm sorry."

Spock grits his teeth and lets out a small cry of pain as Jim, as careful as he is, painfully applies the salve to the burns dotting Spock's fingertips. Jim then wraps each finger in medical tape, wincing at every hiss and sharp breath that Spock takes.

"The comms," Spock manages to get out, "are they—"

"Still down because of the storm." Jim sits back on his heels, face pale and drawn. He wipes his forehead with his arm. "Damn it, Spock. I'm sorry."

"It's of no consequence," Spock lies, biting down harder on his cheek. The pain is mounting; not just the burn, but the lack of feeling he has in his hands. It's like he's been thrown into the dark with nothing but fire and pain to accompany him.

Something in his face must betray the true extent of his pain because Jim suddenly looks stricken, eyes wide. Spock realizes, belatedly, that there are tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What can I do?" Jim asks, his voice steadier than the panic Spock sees in his eyes.

"I cannot—" Spock sucks in a breath. Tries to steady himself, unsuccessfully. "Without touch..."

Jim nods, like he understands. With Spock, he always seems to understand. "Your telepathy. It's dependent on your hands."

"Yes. It's..." Spock squeezes his eyes shut at another wave of pain. "The burns are painful. But the lack of connection to my environment may be... worse."

Jim grips Spock's wrists, which are undamaged from the flames. It's like a balm over Spock's wounds; an anchor in the darkness. Jim's expression is intent. "What about my touch? Does it help?"

Spock could sigh with relief. It's like he's found home again, after groping in the dark for so long. "Yes," he says, gratefully.

Jim's hands grip just a fraction tighter, his fingers imprinting into Spock's skin. "Then I will continue to do so, as long as you need it."

The pain is already receding, Spock falling into the comforting warmth that is Jim's presence. "That may be a very long time," he says, a little more honestly than he would like.

Jim smiles. He releases one of Spock's wrists, but only to run a thumb across Spock's temple. "Forever, if you need it," he promises softly.

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 13. blowjob

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “holiday blow”

��₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ as iii is writing letters to his loved ones, you decided to give him a little treat underneath his desk

pairing: iii x gn!reader

a/n: i’m actually so ass at coming up with titles for my christmas event 😟 made this while i was sick, so it’s lazily written.

cw: nsfw content. blowjob. semi-public sex. kinda subby vibes from iii.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“mmmh… you look so good on your knees, too.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“whatcha doinnnn’?”

“writing letters for the boys.”

“oh fun! make sure to write to santa to get me that teacup puppy for christmas.”

iii just chuckled and rolled his eyes at your lame attempt of a joke, which was to definitely get him to buy you that adorable little puppy. though, iii saw right through your devious little scam.

“not happening, y/n.” he joked back, and he grunted when you punched his shoulder playfully.

“awww come on!!! it’s so cute! you can’t say no to this adorable face!” you said while waving your arms around, pulling up a very poorly printed picture of a teacup puppy. the ink was printed so badly it made the face of the pooch look disfigured, and iii stifled a laugh.

“i can say no, actually. that thing looks like it’s on life support.” iii said sassily, shoving the picture away from his face. to this, you gasped dramatically while falling over his desk.

“oh great heavens! my best friend won’t get me the gift i oh so desperately need! this is anarchy i tell you!!” you monologued rather interestingly, throwing in some poor shakespeare gestures that was paired with bad acting.

iii just raised an eyebrow at your shenanigans, clearly not convinced.

“not happening.”

“oh come on, iii! i’ll do anything! even the most humiliating thing ever!”

the quilt iii held between his fingers only continued to write fancy, honeyed words across the paper. he just sighed heavily, not thinking you’d actually go drastic measures for some tiny puppy as a gift.

“annnything?”

“anything i tell you!”

“you sure about that?”

“yes i am! i’ll even… uhhh..”

iii kept his eyes glued to the paper, clearly not convinced by your obnoxious explaining and weird, theater gestures. he swore you were high at some point. clearly, this was getting nowhere.

the bassist just dropped his pen in the ink bottle and put an arm on his desk, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “well?”

you didn’t even know what came over you, because you blurted out:

“i’ll even suck your dick!”

… well.

that’s an idea that certainly piqued iii’s interest.

and you seemed sooo confident about your answer too, crossing your arms and holding your ground. though, iii could see through those playful eyes that you were actually nervous about what you just said to him.

oh we’ll, he’ll humor you for a bit.

“oh? you serious about that?” iii spoke teasingly, his fingers subconsciously playing with the buckle of his belt, getting turned on from the idea of you going down on him.

you nodded, still keeping your confident face up. “absolutely.”

this was a nice turn of events. iii smirked and rolled his chair out to make space for you, allowing for you to crawl under the little nook within his desk. the bassist rolled back into place, and grabbed the feather pen again, feeling your eager fingers quickly make work of his belt and tug his pants down. damn, you really were excited.

“ahh… i’m starting to think this is less about the puppy, and more about you just wanting to suck me off.” iii commented absentmindedly, his pen dragging across the paper as he wrote his letters to his loved ones, occasionally acknowledging your presence by moving his free hand under the desk to stroke your hair.

“mmmh… you look so good on your knees, too.”

you just whined in response, not even bothering to reply to iii’s words. soon, you pulled down his boxers to his ankles, his hard cock springing free. he heard you audibly gasp at his size, and he just snickered.

“impressive, huh?” he mumbled, gripping your hair and pulling you closer to the head of his cock, the tip leaking with precum.

“maybe.” you mumbled back, putting one hand on his thigh and the other on iii’s shaft, holding the base with a firm grip that had him groaning.

“nnngh…” he sighed out, hand shaking a bit, hindering his ability to write letters. iii shook his head and gripped your hair tightly.

“don’t just sit there. suck.”

you could hear the desperation in iii’s voice, just wanting to feel your tongue swirl around his dick like a lollipop. it was such a lewd thought, but you loved it. you didn’t waste any time, and opened your mouth, taking him in whole and savoring the satisfying, salty taste of his precum. you could tell how horny he was, from the way he was gripping your hair and forcing you down more onto his hard shaft as you sucked him off.

“f-fuck.” he grumbled, trying to shift his attention on the letters he was writing, but you were too good at sucking him off. iii was getting desperate, completely dropping his pen and gripping onto the side of his desk while he bucked his hips into your mouth.

“s-shit. take it all, oh you’re s-so good at this…” iii whimpered, all of his attention on you now as you gave him the blowjob of a lifetime. you could feel the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and constrict around it.

the feeling made iii throw his head back with pleasure, letting out a guttural moan while you whimpered around his dick.

“fuck. i-i’m gonna cum, y/n.” he warned, and you took this opportunity to take him as deep as you possibly could.

“s-shit! ahh!”

his eyes widened underneath his face mask, and he moaned loudly as he shot his seed down your throat, watching you swallow all of his cum in a single gulp. he let out a loud pant and pulled your head off of his cock, your mouth coming off the head with a popping sound.

he groaned heavily, and looked at your face. he chuckled as he brushed his thumb over your swollen lips, making you whine.

you giggled and nuzzled his hand.

“so…. can i get that puppy now?”

he chuckled at your words, and ruffled your hair.

“maybe, dollface.” he said with a grin, caressing your cheek. he lifted his mask, and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“maybe.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

[travelingtwentysomething]

I need all my Stranger Things artists to give me the Fruity Four here, top Robin, Nancy, bottom Steve, Eddie

[greenmateria]

steddie writing prompts

• steve and eddie sitting together on a swing set

• steve finds eddie caring for plants

• steve and eddie sharing a drink from the same straw

• eddie: if i were an octopus all three of my hearts would belong to you

• steve and eddie matching halloween costumes

• eddie pressing his forehead against steve's to check if he has a fever

• steve and eddie getting locked in family video

• eddie and steve play twister