#a round boy holding a round tool

[mondscheinprinzessin]

You go to therapy with your problems. But sometimes, you go out of therapy with the realization that you have far more problems than you thought you had😅

[eros-kisser]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ₊ ⊹ thinking of... your black cat boyfriend, wanderer!! }

(nsfw ahead, wanderer x gn!reader)

— wanderer, who insists he doesn't like you in the slightest, despite how red he gets whenever you tease him!! shhh, don't tell anyone this, but he secretly looooves praise! for someone who was thrown away, words of affirmation are like verbal ecstasy to him - just call him a "good boy" and he'll melt into your arms ♡♡

— wanderer, who gets jealous like it's second nature. don't blame the guy too much, he just can't stand it when you're with someone else other than him!! after all, he's the only one for you, and if necessary, he'll ensure that it'll stay that way...

— wanderer, whose ears are so sensitive, even at the slightest touch. as a puppet, he never really held any regard for them, they were just another tool to use to his advantage, yet somehow your heavenly touch makes it a sensual experience that, if he's in a good mood, will even ask you for.

— top!wanderer, who won't listen to you when you tell him to slow down. he's going too fast? oh, that's too bad, you'll just have to deal with it until he climaxes inside of you, his ropes of cum coating your insides. even the sounds that escape your lips fall onto deaf, flushed ears - he's too busy chasing his euphoria-filled high that he doesn't notice a word you say. don't get too upset, if you cry from the enhanced sensitivity, he'll only kiss your tears away, speaking through gritted teeth: "s'good for me, darling. i know you can take it. just a little more." he's weak to your tears, but even that won't sway his resolve.

— top!wanderer, who, if necessary, will hold your hands above your head and just pound you into the mattress harder, eliminating any chance of you squirming around. (and sometimes, if he's feeling a little kinky, he's even bought these handcuffs and blindfold for you to try... something about seeing you so displayed before him with such a clueless innocence of where he'll touch you next sends his heart racing.) the feeling of your tight walls around his dick is pure bliss, and he's drunk on the feeling, thrusting thoughtlessly, his only thoughts being how pretty you look, stuffed with his cock. ah, the expression on your face is so beautiful, it makes something hot and burning knot up inside of him. he kisses you once, twice, and his hips slow as his warm seed fills you up. "one more round, 'kay?"

— bottom!wanderer, who, to his horror, is always the first to cum, no matter the situation. even if he's giving head, your dick shoved up his throat and tears brimming in his eyes, his pants will always be stained with his fluids before yours are. he's so touch-starved it's concerning, and he'll yearn for your touch all the time, whether it be teasing his nipples or kissing a trail of bites down his neck.

— bottom!wanderer, who whines, loudly. even when you tell him to be quiet, or shove your fingers into his mouth so he can suck on them, his noises will always escape, accompanied with the lewd squelching of your bodies slamming together. he seems to moan without a care in the world, suddenly, often, quickly, and it's almost like music - a beautiful, beautiful music that he plays just for you. ♡♡

©eros-kisser. > if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging as it supports me a lot as a new blog! thank you !! this is my first time writing smut so please give me feedback if you have any :))

[upsidedownwithsteve]

I need eddie to fuck us over the counter or a desk because we’ve been teasing him all day

18+

“Y’know, you’re not slick,” Eddie was squinting at you in the dim light.

The garage was empty, the last of the mechanics leaving their work behind, broken down cars littering the space, the shutter rolled closed after Eddie told them he’d lock up. You’d been loitering since four o’clock, rolling up in a short sundress with a Tupperware box full of cookies for the men, smiling too pretty when they complimented you, when they told Eddie he better hold onto you tight.

You’d preened when Eddie scowled, placating him with peach flavoured kisses to his cheek, bending over when his eyes strayed from the engine he was working on, smiling all innocent when he shot you a warning glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Teddy,” you blinked at him from where you were sitting on a workbench, the picture of innocence in a sage green dress, surrounded by oil stains and wrenches.

Eddie thought you looked like a dream.

The boy scoffed, shaking his head and trying not to smile when you uncrossed your legs, skin smelling like cocoa butter, thighs parting, hands pressed to the space between them.

“No?” He asked, dropping his tools and wiping his hands on his jeans, the denim threadbare and ripped at the knees, an old flannel tied off around his waist. “You don’t know what you’ve been doing?”

You shook your head, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as Eddie made his way towards you, his movements slow and lazy. You were pretty sure he was about to tell you exactly what he thought about your antics.

You thought you were getting a kiss when Eddie approached, a small smile on his lips, looking too pretty, resting his oil stained hands on either side of the desk, caging you in. You waited, impatient, a frown growing over your brow as you realised Eddie wasn’t leaning down to kiss you.

You huffed, and the boy laughed.

“Bend over for me, sweetheart.”

You blinked, lips parting. “What?” You’d heard him, he knew you had. But there was something about his demand that made your head spin, his words dizzying.

“Don’t make me ask twice,” he warned, his tone light and teasing. But his brown eyes were dark honey, looking over your bare legs as you rubbed your thighs together. “Hop to it, pretty thing.”

So you slid off the workbench, confused when Eddie didn’t move out of your way, your body sliding down the length of his. And when you turned, breath held, your back to his chest, you wanted to whine for him. But you knew where that would hey you.

With a red ass and wet underwear, sitting petulant in Eddie’s van as he drove you both home.

So you did as you were told, elbows resting between forgotten bolts and gaskets, back arched and ass pressed to Eddie’s crotch. Your bare thighs felt the denim, the cold of his belt buckle, the hard length of his cock. You did whimper then, a needy sound, pretty and delicious to Eddie’s ears.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled your dress up, one big hand curled around the hem of it, trailing it upupup and over the swell of your ass. It wasn’t until he had it draped over your lower back, your ass bare for him, that he let out a low whistle at the damp lace he found between your legs.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he squeezed at your cheeks, kneading the soft skin there, pulling you open in a way that made you feel filthy, his thumb pressed to your clit over the lace. “This all for me?”

You nodded, panting already, breath coming out in a rush. “Yeah, yeah, all for you.”

Eddie hummed, appreciative of your words, even as he delivered one swift slap to an ass cheek, grinning when you moaned. “Really? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn you had too much fun prancing ‘round the floor for the other guys.”

You whined when he pushed himself against you, harder than ever.

“No, fuck, Eddie, no,” you were huffy again, lips pouting, trying your best to look back at the boy but he held the nape of your neck with one big hand, fingers calloused against your skin. “Just for you, promise.”

Eddie pushed at you gently until your cheek rested on the workbench, back arching even more for him, bare ass still on display for anyone who decided to walk back in. You were dripping for it.

“Yeah?” He cooed. You heard the clink of his belt buckle. “Aw, sweetheart, you’re too pretty, y’know that? Been teasin’ me all day, comin’ in with that little dress, fuck.”

You wiggled your ass for him, trying to gain some friction, another slap, a squeeze. Anything.

“Gonna make it up to me?” Eddie whispered.

[bedoballoons]

Just a random request at a random time.

Sumeru boys with an S/o that carries a small purse or something like that, and when they say they need something like if it's joking or genuine s/o is ready to pull it out of her purse and give it to them. Like she's that one friend that will have almost everything in their bag, like they were prepared for this

I've always wondered how so many things could fit in one purse, this is a adorable idea!! Thank you for requesting it and I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~The never ending purse~༺}

CW: Just some fluff! Fem reader!

(Includes: Tighnari, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Wanderer, and Cyno!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnari watched you dig into your purse, his ears twitching with amusement, "What are you doing hmm? I feel like it would be easier to just get a pair from-" You cut him off mid sentence, holding a miniature pair of scissors up in victory, "Why get another pair when we already have one? I told you I had some." You winked at him, leaving him speechless while you went to work on cutting his loose thread that currently had him attached to a door, within seconds he was no longer trapped and you stood by him proudly.

"...why do you have scissors in your purse?"

"Just in case, I mean why not?"

"...Fair point."

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

When Alhaitham causally mentioned that he wished he'd brought one of his books to enjoy while you waited for your food, he didn't think you'd actually reach into your little purse and pull one out, it was odd to carry a book in the first place and...when did you get one of his books? "Thank you, for the book.."

"Anytime, I always make sure to keep a copy of one of your books, in case you ever forget to bring one and get bored."

"You...do?"

"Mhm!"

"That's...very sweet of you. Thank you."

𑁍༄Kaveh:

Kaveh chuckled, watching you with adoring eyes as you somehow managed to procure a mini sketchbook, colored pencils and even a eraser, from your small bag. Everything he had wished he had a couple moments ago was now sitting in front of him, ready to be used for the inspiration he had found, all because of you. "You know, you're the true inspiration here. Thank you so much, I'll never doubt what you have in your bag ever again, it's magic as far as I'm concerned."

You chuckled with a light blush painting your cheeks, "If I'm you're inspiration, does that mean I get a whole building designed after me?"

"Actually that's not a terrible idea.."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"What about a knife? Theres no way that bag of yours has a knife." You giggled at Wanderers persistence, he had really gotten so worked up about what you had in your bag and now he was asking for everything under the sun, which you somehow had tiny versions of....you even had a mini tool set in there, which included a pocket knife that you held up for him. "Care to try again?"

"What about another purse, inside of yours? Ha I bet you don't have that."

"Actually I do! I use it to hold bandages."

"What?!?"

𑁍༄Cyno:

"Cyno, you alright? You look a little down." You gently touched his arm, looking at his downcast frown, he had been fine just a few minutes ago... "Yes I'm alright, I've just somehow misplaced my tcg dice, meaning I'm unable to play the current round. You could even say they've dicecided I'm not allowed to play at all." You smiled happily at his joke and reached into your bag, after a moment of moving random other things out of the way, you finally found it! "Here you go Cyno! Tcg dice, just for you!"

"...how...you know what, I'm not going to question it. You're my saviour, thank you." He pulled you close and kissed your forehead, leaving you flustered as he ran up to enter the games.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You admire the tattoo through the plastic film. It’s so vibrant and red. The outline is beautiful and precise. You worried it would be less than with all your fidgeting but the hours of sitting paid off wonderfully.

You set your feet flat as Sam tosses his gloves and gathers up his tools. You fix the flat pleats of your straight cut skirt and smooth your white blouse. Plain and simple and neat. Just how everything in your life is. Well, except your tattoo.

You’re almost giddy. You feel so… edgy. You know you’re not but you’re going to enjoy the idea.

Your excitement is short lived as a heat settles over you. Like a shell you can’t see. You latch onto your wrist, holding your arms in front of you meekly as you peek across the shop. That man, Steve, he’s watching you again. You’re not sure he ever stopped as you kept your eyes on your round-toed flats for most of the time.

He smiles. The expression deepens the lines in his face and adds definition to his bearded jaw. His blue eyes sparkle deviously as you shy away. That’s the kind of boy, well, man, your mother would warn you about. Fifteen years ago and today.

You follow Sam to the counter and stir out your wallet from your black purse. You count out the rest of the fee in cash and hand it over. He explains the after care as he checks your count.

“Once you see blood under that film, you should take it off. Don’t keep it on longer than six hours. Don’t wrap it after and try to wear light clothing.”

“First ink?” The man interrupts, causing you to visibly flinch. Sam looks over your head and you hesitate to answer.

“Um, yes,” you turn your head only slightly and raise your voice so he can hear over the buzz.

“Can’t see it from here. What is it?”

“Steve, mind your business,” Sam retorts as he closes the till, “sorry about that. He’s always been too nosy for his own good.”

“You don’t gotta apologise for me,” Steve calls back, “I’m curious, is all. Sweetheart, if I disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you bend your ankle nervously and try to muster a smile at Sam, “thanks, I really like it. I love it. The colour is so good.”

“Appreciate it. As long as you're happy, I’m happy,” he grins, “here, take this.” He takes out a small booklet, “it’s everything you need to know about aftercare. Keep it clean, don’t touch it.”

“Oh, great,” you accept it, “that’s wonderful.” You tuck it into your purse, “thanks again. I’ll, er, I’ll go.”

“Have a good day,” Sam responds smoothly, a much needs balance for your awkwardness.

You turn and head for the door. You hear a low growl and peer back as you push through. Nat lifts her gun and punches Steve’s arm as he leans to keep an eye on you.

“Would you sit fucking still?” She hisses as he snickers in amusement.

You escape his gaze and the shop swiftly. That went a lot better than you thought. You only wish he hadn’t been there. Watching. A scary man like him, tattoos and all.

Well, you’ll never have another reason to go back to the shop or see that man. You had your dose of rebellion.

🎹

You resist the urge to scratch your ankle. You have discipline. An overbearing degree of discipline. Hammered so deep that you’re left hewn in rigid stone.

The rules. You’ve always been good at following those. It’s the one talent you have.

Aside from the piano.

You set up for the day, your ritual the same as every other. You change the water in the vase and place the long stems inside. The lilies are starting to wilt but they look good enough. You put them on the window sill, a soft breeze flowing in and fluttering the curtains.

You quickly brush a feather duster around the apartment, searching for any spec of dust. You’re gentle at the piano, the old boxy instrument is finely tuned despite its worn varnish. The bench is in a better state as you recently had it reupholstered.

You kick the corner of the carpet down as it folded over with an errant step and you pause to check out the tattoo. It’s so cool. Or cool to you. It’s probably lame to everyone else.

You imagine the rolling eyes and low whispers. Not really the tattoo type…

The boring type. That’s what you are. You live in your corner of the world and you keep to it. You don’t impinge, you don’t intrude, you are a very mindful person. Of others as much as yourself.

You fold the dusters and hang it in the closet from the hook on the inside of the door. You shut it, the hinges squeaking slightly. The walkup was inherited along with the piano. Both belonged to your grandfather. The same man who taught you how to play.

You breathe out as you run your fingertips along the belt of your dress. Some would say it’s out of style, you say it’s vintage. Nothing too flashy. Forest green with cap sleeves.

It’s always a bit nerve wracking to take on a new student. Amanda moved away and so the vacancy needs to be filled. You keep to a particular capacity. Both to maintain your sanity and your finances. Too many and you won’t be an effective teacher, too few and you won’t be able to afford the keys to practice.

It’s not too difficult. Usually their parents walk them in, talk a little bit, and go. Some of them stay after a few lessons to hear their children’s progress. You offer them tea if they do and some shortbread cookies; your grandmother’s secret recipe.

You pace as you check your watch, a slender golden chain attached to an oval face. You tap the glass with your fingernail and sigh. Two minutes.

You twirl and repeat your steps across the rug, just across the top of the stairs. You pull down your lip anxiously but correct the impatient habit quickly. Don’t fidget so much. Stop picking at yourself. Your mother’s voice lives in your head.

You circle around and straighten the framed embroidery above the antique side table. You lean back on your heel and consider it. Still a bit off. You work at getting it perfect, your obsession pierced by the doorbell.

You recoil and go to the top of the stairs. You look down and see a silhouette on the other side of the half-moon pane set into the thick walnut door. You glide your hand down the banister as you descend and steady yourself at the bottom.

You set your shoulders and smile. You’ve done this so many times before. Why are you so unsure? When have you ever been sure? Oh gosh, what if they see your tattoo? What if they think you’re trouble?

You grasp the curled handle and twist it. You pull the door open and your cheek twitches in surprise as you face the unexpectedly familiar face. You blink long and hard. You don’t believe it. It can’t be him. You must be dreaming. That must be why this whole day has felt so surreal.

“Hi,” Steve’s deep tone washes over you like a tide.

“Um, hello,” you look to the right, then the left, then at him. He’s alone. It’s just him. Why is he here?

You can’t be mistaken. You see the tattoos peeking out at the ends of his jacket sleeves along his knuckles. His newest addition shows through the white fabric of his plain cotton tee. It’s definitely the same man. How could you forget those eyes?

“I’m here for piano lessons? This is the right unit, right?”

“Piano? I– yeah, I teach but, er…” you reach to rub your neck and his gaze follows the gesture before returning to your face. He watches you intently, just like at the shop. “I usually teach–”

“Beginners,” he smirks, “yeah, I know I’m a bit old but I always wanted to learn.”

“Well, of course, um, anyone can learn but I…” you try not to show your confusion.

It’s not his age. You’ve taught adults before. No, it’s that he’s even there. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? Or maybe he doesn’t even remember you.

“So, you healing up?”

“What?”

“The tattoo.”

“Oh, uh,” you look down at your feet, “sure. It’s… alright.”

“I’m dying to scratch mine,” he chuckles, “which is why I need something to keep my hands busy.”

“Yes, I mean, okay,” you grip the door tightly.

“All cards on the table, I heard you in the shop say you taught piano,” he confesses, “I looked you up. I’m sorry. I hope that’s not weird.”

You let out a long breath. It is weird but he is being honest. He doesn’t seem like he’s up to anything. And anyone can get a tattoo, even you. So maybe he isn’t too bad. And maybe you need the cheque.

“You’re late,” you say, “usually I ask my students to be ten minutes early.”

“Got it,” he nods, “promise, it won’t happen again.”

“Put your shoes on the mat,” you back up and open the door, “since we’re already behind, I won’t have time for the tea.”

“Maybe next time,” he breaks the threshold as he peers around at the entryway, “nice place.”

“It is,” you say, “the piano is upstairs.”

You spin on your heel and scurry up the steps. You cling to the railing to keep yourself on your feet. Now that he’s inside, you’re even less sure about this.

[biteofcherry]

Quick musing round! How do they like receiving/giving oral with alpha!Ari, mafia!Steve and Dom!Andy?

oh boy 😳 you guys are going for all things horny with your asks 😂 no one's asking about fave drinks, or fruit, or flowers 🤣

fiiiiine, have it your dirty way

Alpha!Ari is a whole primal beefcake, so for him the messier the better; receiving: wants you to try taking him whole and encourages you with praise combined with utter filth, it doesn't have to be a fast rough pace for Ari, but each push he makes sure his sack touches your chin, he makes you choke on his cock and watches tears stream down your face, joining dribbles of drool on your chin, and he definitely makes you swallow every drop; giving: he's wild about it, holding you firmly in place as he ravishes you with open mouthed kisses, tongue dipping in then lapping at your clit mercilessly, he can lash his tongue on your sensitive nub for so long you cry from overstimulation, and if you want him to use fingers you have to beg for it, there's also a bite or ten (on your puffy folds and right over your swollen clit), he goes at it until you go hoarse and then sucks a hickey on your mound or right at the top of your thigh

Mafia!Steve is a charming gentleman, but he's ruthless in his ruling over his crime empire and over you; receiving: just the sight of you on your knees before him gets him going, so he lets you do your sweet licking and kissing and sucking technique all the while praising you, then orders you to touch yourself but don't come as he cups the sides of your face and pushes deep deep in, he takes pauses so you can catch a breath, he's sweet like that, then the last few strokes he keeps shallow with your mouth wide open because he wants to watch his cum pool on your tongue (sometimes he'll make you hold it for a bit before he tells you to swallow); giving: if Steve goes down on you it's a full feast, that sexual act is never a quickie, he'll build you up slowly but so good that a single flick of his tongue on your clit in the right moment sends you over the edge, he likes to use his fingers to spread your folds so he can lick deeper, switches tongue and finger over your clit and in your hole, he goes methodically from tongue alone to one finger to two then three and each time you come harder

Dom!Andy (who got resurrected from the abyss of my dusty memory lol) is a damn virtuoso of all things sexual; receiving: he'll take your mouth however he wishes, sometimes just warming himself in your drool-filling mouth until it starts leaking and splashing on your chest, other times fucking it in deep, steady strokes, he's the one who teaches you how to take him to the root, you're always bound too and can't do anything but to take him anyway, but there's a lot of praise included, and he always makes you thank him for his cum after he comes down your throat; giving: again, you're tied one way or another, if not completely bound to a bed or bench then your wrists are tied to your ankles, or a spreader bar prevents you from closing your legs an inch, Andy uses everything about his mouth as a tool to ruin you - lips kissing, tongue licking and flicking, teeth scraping, he blows air on your engorged clit, he uses his fingers too, slides them inside your pussy, but sometimes will pinch your clit while he drives his tongue into your hole, other times he'll have a finger in your ass while he eats your cunt, again you're supposed to cry out a thank you for every orgasm he gives

[orionsangel86]

Mary & George

So we finally have the show we have been asking for since 2016 (I went back and checked my old posts to make sure and it was indeed 2016 where the "British King Can't Stop Promoting His Boyfriend" post did the rounds).

How did it fair in reality? Well, its hardly Tumblr friendly fanfiction - though it was certainly raunchy - at least at the start. This show was scandalous, sexy, rather filthy at times (in a good way), and absolutely stunning in terms of its production and costume design for sure. It falls very much in line with the expectations of modern period dramas in a post Game of Thrones world where we have shows like The Great, and movies like The Favourite gracing our screens far more regularly than endless fucking retellings of Henry the Eighth which are so fucking common I have even been in one of them myself (sorry - my bitter hatred for stories about Henry VIII and his bloody wives is difficult to restrain).

So FINALLY getting a show set during the reign of James I and VI of England and Scotland and his love affair with the Duke of Buckingham is definitely a breath of fresh air.

But its definitely not the beautiful queer love story tumblr might have hoped for when we all first saw that post.

Nope. If you're looking for a happy tale of queer love overcoming adversity, stick with Red, White, and Royal Blue. Mary & George is not a love story. Its a story of scheming manipulative people who will do anything to get money and power. It's a story that uses sex as a weapon and a tool for personal gain. There is no fluffy romance to be found here, no sweet queer love story and no happy ever after.

I mean, this IS the British monarchy we're talking about, during an extremely dark and horrific period of our history only a short time before the country was plunged into Civil War and a King lost his head. But you've been warned anyway. All you'll find here is brutality, betrayal and eventual death.

Regardless of that, this show was fucking brilliant. The first three episodes in particular are quick witted and hilarious and refuse to shy away from treating queer sex scenes any differently to straight ones. The full frontal male nudity that crops up was also a pleasant surprise - I'm happy that cinema has generally accepted a more balanced approach to nudity nowadays - also a surprise was the lesbian romance which was probably the only genuine romance in the entire show. It leaves you wondering throughout but by the final few episodes its clear that if any love is "true" in this show, its the love between Mary and Sandie.

I absolutely adored Julianne Moore in this as Mary Villiers, who ruthlessly claws her way into power and money through schemes, seductions, betrayals, murders, and anything else you can think of. But even with all of this, I can't help but root for her. Who doesn't want to root for a scheming lesbian and her lover as they manipulate everyone around them and ensure they always get the better of the horrible men that make up King James' court? In this house we support Womens Wrongs.

As far as George goes, Nicholas Galitzine is brilliant as a beautiful but dim mummy's boy in the first few episodes, throwing tantrums and pouting with perfection. He shines in the later episodes as the arrogant and powerful Duke who believes he is practically untouchable due to his hold over the King, whilst still showing through the vulnerability underneath where that relationship remains precarious. The underlying joke of the show is that everyone wants George, and George wants everyone. He's a slutty slutty man.

You know how tumblr has a tendency to split queer stories into one of two camps - either pure sweet romantic love stories or very bad evil messy queer stories? (a gross simplification but you get what I mean) Well Mary and George falls firmly in the second camp. I enjoyed it for what it was, but I was a bit dissapointed that the general approach and belief of the storytellers here is that George used the King for personal gain, that the King was nothing more than a hedonistic fool who let his favourites manipulate him, and that any actual love between them was shallow and fleeting. Its all extremely cynical.

Especially since we know its not true. the surviving letters we have between King James and George paint a much more romantic picture, one where love was definitely a significant factor in their affair. Yes, historians love to play down queer history as best they can, but I don't believe that George Villiers was quite the manipulative little slut this show makes him out to be.

And yeah, sure, we can laugh and dismiss any true history involved. Its just a story after all? It was a bloody good story and one I enjoyed, but was it a fair portrayal of the actual men involved? Probably not - then again, the actual men involved weren't very nice anyway, and the show glossed over a lot of King James' more infamous sins. His obsession with witches and demons leading to the horrifying witch trials throughout the country were completely left out. There was also no mention of the famous King James Bible - the one that heavily emphasised any passages alluding to homosexuality being a sin which is used so frequently even today by religious zealots to persecute gay men. The Sodomy laws during King James' reign were enforced with such brutality that they brought us the slur "f*gg*t" (which I'm not explaining here). Yet the show displays acts of sodomy as such a normal part of court life that you'd almost think it wasn't totally punishable by death.

I shouldn't complain. Especially not about the lack of homophobia. Its a great show. You should watch it. But take it with a pinch of salt. The true story of James and George was probably one with a lot more secrecy involved, a lot more sneaking about in the night (after all, why build a secret passage between their bedrooms if they weren't trying to hide it?) and therefore a lot more hypocrisy on the part of the King.

There are some very touching scenes between King James and George, and I feel the show attempted to portray the relationship between them as complex and multilayered, but I'm not sure it succeeds as well as I would have hoped. But perhaps I am just a silly tumblr romantic who likes her queer love stories to actually include genuine love within them, and I always hoped that any story about King James and George would focus on how that love grew over time. Because whilst George obviously went along with things initially for personal gain, I think the evidence we have at least gives an indication that he did love the King, and the King clearly loved George, and I am interested in a story about how they navigated that love at a period of time where it did need to be kept secret, even if it was a fairly open secret, where things such as the King James Bible and the Witch Trials would have affected them, and where George's rise to power would have caused so much conflict and anger within the court.

But regardless of all that, I still loved the show. Its still worth the watch. The gays deserve more messy sexy dramas where they get to be ruthless and powerful and slutty and murderous. Its excellent viewing for all.

Ultimately though, I may have came for the gay duke and his love affair with the King, but I stayed for the lesbians. The lesbians were awesome.

#JusticeForSandie

[imtrashraccoon]

Ooh could you perhaps write something for cross? Like an X reader? I haven't seen many of those- like- at all, and it's incredibly sad because the boy deserves love :c

Feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna do it <3

I'm so sorry for the wait, Anon! I didn't realize it had been almost a month since I received this! In my defense it took me like two weeks to figure out what I wanted to write in the first place. I hope this doesn't disappoint because it's way longer than I intended it to be...

A Gentle Soldier

Cross!Sans x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,875

You were simple person, just doing what you could to get by in the world. It wasn't an easy or comfortable life but you made the best of it.

After your father passed away, you were left with the cabin he'd built that had been your childhood home. It was a small one room building with a loft for sleeping and a fireplace set into one wall, which was especially nice in the Winter when the stone bricks it was built from radiated the heat throughout the entire cabin.

You kept a small vegetable and herb garden out back and regularly hunted or trapped animals for meat year round. You also preserved anything extra for the cold months when you might not be able to leave the cabin during bad storms for several days. Other than the occasional trip into the nearby village for rifle ammo and a few other things that you couldn't make yourself, you were self sufficient and almost never interacted with anyone.

Maybe one day you'd meet someone and start a family, but they'd have to be adaptable because you weren't about to just abandon the life you'd worked so hard to build for yourself. You liked to think that you were a reasonable sort but there were some things that you wouldn't compromise on. Moving back into the village was one of them, so unless you had no other options, you were going to hang on dearly to your little piece of paradise.

Today was a bit of a gloomy one, but despite the heavy rainfall the previous night, many dark clouds still remained overhead. There was a cool breeze as well, but you figured the inclement weather would hold off for a few hours at least, which was enough time to check your traps.

After putting on a thick coat for warmth and in case you were wrong about the rain, you shouldered a rucksack which held extra traps and some small tools. You also slung your father's hunting rifle over your shoulder, which while you didn't think you'd need it, there was always the possibility of running into a hungry bear or wolf this time of year. You were a decent shot, but hopefully if you did end up missing, the loud noise would be enough to scare them away.

While checking each of your traps, you thought it was strange how quiet the forest seemed today. Not even the occasional birdsong interrupted the silence and none of the traps had even been touched. That was disappointing, but you still had some meat you'd smoked previously and you had enough flour to make some bread so you wouldn't go hungry tonight at least.

You were on your way home again when you heard a loud noise.

It was like several trees had been knocked over or like a landslide had been triggered.

That wasn't something an animal could do.

You checked that your rifle was loaded but kept the safety on for now as you carefully made your way towards the strange noise. You only wanted to take a peek, just in case someone had gotten hurt. Although, it soon became apparent that whatever or whomever had caused the disturbance was still in the area and, as you drew closer, you began to hear people shouting as if they were in the middle of a fight.

You stopped at the crest of a hill and peered down into the little valley below.

There were at least four monsters below you, three of which were seemingly working together to attack the fourth. They all looked like skeleton monsters, however there were some anatomical differences between them and human skeletons. They were dressed completely different from both each other and from any monsters you'd ever seen before too.

The first was a skeleton whose outfit was rather intricate but it was also completely black and white. It was hard to describe with all the layers of clothing, but the basics of his outfit seemed to be a white parka with a fluffy hood, a narrow white cape with black edges, and a pair of black shorts with white stripes that were shaped like an X. He had twin bone daggers with hollow blades and even from here you could tell that he was quite experienced with them.

The second skeleton was wearing a metal chestplate, a light blue bandana tied around his neck with matching gloves and boots, and sturdy looking jeans. He kind of looked like a warrior from an RPG to you and the large maul he was wielding only solidified that thought in your mind.

The third skeleton was a bit shorter than the others and he seemingly flitted about like a leprechaun with what looked like a giant paintbrush. His outfit was mostly brown but some of the straps holding it together were bright yellow and green. He also had on a pair of fingerless gloves and sported a very long brown scarf that somehow didn't impede his movements at all.

Their outfit choices seemed to be representative of their personalities since you couldn't think of any other reason for the variety on display. The first struck you as the strong and silent type, with the second seeming like he was dependable, and the third looked almost carefree and yet also rather bubbly at the same time.

Their opponent though, just looking at him seemed to fill you with dread, and while you had limited experience with people, even you knew he was bad news.

He was several inches taller than the three, not counting the numerous black tentacles protruding from his back. His bones and clothing also seemed to be completely black, in such a way that gave him the appearance of having been dipped in ink, except it didn't seem to leave a mess everywhere. Speaking of clothing, while it was hard to differentiate where his bones ended and clothes began, his outfit looked like it consisted of a fancy overcoat and you could see that he was wearing a gold circlet and several rings on his phalanges. He seemed to only have one working eye socket, which had a piercing cyan eyelight, if the way he kept guarding his right side was any indication, but other than the uncountable number of tentacles, he didn't appear to have any weapons of his own, not that it seemed to be a problem for him.

You knew in your heart that you shouldn't be sticking around and risk being caught in the crossfire, but at the same time, you couldn't help but want to continue watching. It was almost mesmerizing with how fluid their movements were and even though each had their own techniques, they all seemed to work flawlessly together. Their opponent seemed frustrated in comparison and yet he was managing to hold his own against all three at once. You didn't know what the stakes were or how the fight had even started, but you couldn't help but silently cheer for the three skeletons to win.

The monochromatic skeleton was suddenly grabbed by a tendril and sent flying until he collided with a nearby tree. You watched in horror as his body slumped to the ground and when he didn't move for several long seconds, you felt the sickly feeling of dread beginning to pool in your stomach.

The other two skeletons were too busy to check on their compatriot and you could tell the nightmarish looking one would send each of them flying as well if they lost focus for even a second.

You had to see if he was hurt and how badly.

Not caring if you were seen anymore, you scrambled down the steep incline, scattering loose stones and dirt under your boots in a mini landslide as you did so. Somehow you didn't lose your footing but it certainly did slow you down.

Although, before you could reach the fallen skeleton, there was a flash of bright light and another one appeared by his side.

This skeleton was a bit taller than the others, but still shorter than the scary one, and you almost had to squint to even look at him. His presence almost seemed to warm up the immediate area and, rather confusingly, just seeing him made you feel calm and like you should be happy. Considering the situation, it also felt unnerving but you couldn't place exactly why that was.

Somehow, he was dressed even more fanciful than any of the others. Over a form fitting black body suit, he had a loose white outfit that kind of resembled a tunic with bright yellow accents. The best way to describe it was like he'd stepped out of an ancient Egyptian mural, only he was somehow more beautiful.

This new skeleton knelt down by the first and placed his gloved hands on his still crumpled form. A soft yellow glow flickered from between his fingers before the monochromatic skeleton's body jolted awake. The bright one then stood up and said something you didn't quite hear, which the other nodded in response to.

He summoned a gorgeous longbow with a string made of glowing blue energy. Then, he appeared to notch a similarly glowing arrow and turned as if to join the fight, before his gaze locked with your own.

You were completely awestruck and for a moment you found yourself lost in his golden eyelights. You felt like you should be overjoyed that he'd noticed you but the disinterested look on his skull quickly quelled those thoughts. He looked like he was about to say something to you, when a shout from the nightmarish skeleton interrupted him.

"Dream! So you've resorted to collecting pawns now?!" his voice thundered across the little valley.

The bright skeleton, whose name was apparently Dream, let out a tired sigh and turned to face the antagonizing one. "I'm tired of fighting, brother. So I'm here to finish this once and for all," he responded in a tone that, while much calmer, still held a certain level of venom and he'd notably ignored the accusations.

The two brothers practically leaped at each other and their resounding blows echoed throughout the surrounding area. Dream was far more agile than you'd expected and his arrows seemed to burst like a firecracker as they found their mark. His brother seemed to transform into a form that struck so much more fear into you than his first had, so much so that you couldn't bear to watch them any further.

"hey, are you alright?"

You startled and glanced to your left to find the monochromatic skeleton had hauled himself to his feet and apparently had also noticed you.

He looked rather banged up but fortunately didn't seem to have any broken bones or other obvious injuries. Although, there were several tears in his jacket, which you could now see was actually short sleeved and that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath. The ends of his cape were also frayed but you could tell they were already like that before he'd been whipped into a tree.

However, the most striking details about him were his white eyelights, that almost seemed to have a soft purple glow at the center, and an old jagged red scar under his right eye socket. He seemed genuinely concerned about you too, which was a little odd since you were the one who'd originally been concerned about him.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I think..." you managed to respond.

His bonebrows knit together in a way that seemed to suggest that he didn't fully believe you. He didn't choose to press you further though and instead retrieved his daggers from the ground where he'd dropped them earlier.

"okay then, but you should probably try to get as far away from here as you can. as you can see, things get messy fast when these two meet."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

With one last glance to make sure you really were okay, he charged back into the fray again, leaving you to figure out how you were going to get back up the hill. The rain had left the already steep slope much softer than usual and even if you crawled up on your hands and knees, there was no way you'd make it without sliding back down.

Which meant you'd have to find another way.

While you were trying not to focus on the terrifying fight going on, you couldn't ignore it completely. Still, you did your best to make as little noise as possible and hoped that they were all too occupied to notice you.

Just as you'd found a place with decent looking handholds to haul yourself up, you heard someone shout a warning from behind you.

As you turned to see what was going on, your vision was engulfed in a bright blue light.

You heard something impact the rocks behind you.

Then you heard a crumbling sound and felt some small stones hit your head.

[...]

When you came to, you were lying on your back staring up at the grey sky. You could still hear fighting so you must've only been out for a few minutes. You started to sit up but a firm hand on your shoulder kept you from doing so.

"easy there." The monochromatic skeleton was leaning over you now and he still looked rather concerned. His pale eyelights flitted over your face looking for injuries before focusing on a spot just above your right temple.

Your head was throbbing in such a way that you knew you'd get a headache later and when you gingerly ran your fingers over your scalp, you discovered that you were bleeding. Whatever had knocked you out had apparently been sharp enough to give you what seemed to be a nasty cut.

As soon as you'd registered this, the skeleton quickly tore off a section from his cape and wrapped it around your head to serve as a makeshift bandage. He also applied a firm but gentle pressure in an attempt to stem the bleeding. You couldn't help but admire how calm he was as anyone else would probably be a little panicked in this situation. It was almost like he had done this many times before.

"What happened?" you finally asked.

His cool demeanor faltered for a moment to be replaced with a tight frown. "you were spotted by nightmare and he tried to grab you, but dream stopped him..."

You noticed his phalanges twitch as if he wanted to clench his fists before stopping himself and continuing to try to patch you up. Sensing that there was something else that he wasn't saying out loud, you tried to press him further.

"I'm grateful of course, but what's bothering you about it?"

"he was careless and if his aim had been off just a bit more, he could've actually hit you," he grumbled under his breath.

He closed his eyes and took a long-suffering breath. When he seemed to have calmed down some, he made eye contact with you again.

"are you alright otherwise? does anything else hurt?" he asked.

You took a second to flex each of your limbs, but other than a few aches that would probably just become bruises, you didn't seem to have any other injuries.

"No, I think I'm fine. A bit shaken up but that's pretty normal in these situations, right?"

He raised a bonebrow and was about to respond when a sound that sounded like a mix between a harsh hiss and a deep growl interrupted him. He whirled in the direction it had come from, simultaneously drawing his daggers that he must've sheathed earlier when he had stopped to help you.

Two shadows wielding battleaxes had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and they started advancing on the two of you. With the black armour they were wearing and the way they easily dwarfed everyone else on the battlefield, you knew these guys were bad news. Other than the glow of their cyan eyelights, they were entirely black and while it was hard to tell, save for their sharp teeth and claws, they also appeared to be skeletons.

Your rescuer didn't hesitate for a second before basically launching himself at them. When they responded to his assault by swinging their heavy weapons, you half expected him to get knocked back, but he ducked under one and sidestepped the other.

He moved so quickly that you could barely keep track of him with your eyes but it seemed that he was using his smaller stature to his advantage. He wasn't wearing heavy armour either which meant he could dodge pretty much every blow with relatively little effort.

In the blink of an eye, he sliced clean through one's torso and simultaneously beheaded the other.

The bodies of the shadowy skeletons seemed to flicker before dissolving into thin air.

He'd won!

"Wow..." you gasped. "I could tell you were good but I didn't know you were that good..."

He nodded and took a cursory glance around the area before letting himself relax again. He was breathing quite heavily after all that, but there was a small glimmer of relief in his pale eyelights when he looked back at you.

"thanks." He seemed to study you for a moment before approaching and holding out his hand. "do you think you can walk?"

"Yeah..." As he helped you to your feet, you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm and you were certain that you were blushing.

What was this day? You'd never seen any skeleton monsters before now and when one of them had showed this much concern for your well-being, you were reduced to nothing but a flustered mess, as if you were a grade schooler with a crush all of the sudden.

He held onto your hand for a few seconds longer than he probably should've but when he realized, he quickly dropped it like he'd been burned. Even though he looked away immediately afterwards, you thought you saw a soft purple glow flicker across his cheekbones.

In that moment, you were struck with the realization that he looked kinda cute. Unfortunately, he seemed a bit unsure of himself all of the sudden, despite how confident he'd been fighting moments prior. It was...rather endearing actually.

"Hey, um, thanks for stopping to help and...for just saving my life too."

He smiled and, while it was a small one, you could almost feel how genuinely glad he was. He let out a soft chuckle and fiddled with the wrapped handle of one of his daggers as that same purple glow coloured his zygomatic arch again.

"yeah...of course. i couldn't just ignore you, especially when you had no part in this," he muttered.

You introduced yourself before asking the one question that had been on your mind from the moment you had first seen him. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to answer when a bright light from the still ongoing battle grabbed your attention.

While his clothes had been slightly torn and dirtied, Dream stood tall with his bow drawn, ready to fire the notched golden arrow at his brother. He'd only been using blue energy arrows before, but this one seemed much more powerful, if the magic that was pouring from it like a hungry flame was any indication.

In contrast, Nightmare was in a combat ready position with his tentacles poised to strike. His clothing seemed relatively untouched, but the inky substance covering him had either served to protect him or at the very least hide any damage he'd incurred.

While both skeletons were breathing heavily, Nightmare definitely seemed like he was much more worn out than his brother. Which was probably why Dream had brought the others along in the first place now that you thought about it.

Time seemed to stand still as the golden skeleton let the arrow fly.

The world was instantly bathed in an explosion of light.

The nightmarish one let out an anguished scream and clutched his chest as he fell to his knees.

The edges of his form seemed to blur together and for a moment you wondered if he would disappear like the dark skeletons had earlier.

Then the ground suddenly erupted around the golden skeleton.

He was abruptly run through with several black tentacles.

Your hands flew to your mouth in shock as he collapsed as well.

The monochromatic skeleton next to you seemed frozen in shock but in the few seconds that he hesitated, the other two reached Dream first. They seem to briefly examine him before the one in blue gingerly picked up the injured skeleton.

The skeleton in brown swung his large paintbrush which summoned a swirling golden vortex in mid air.

"Cross! We have to go now!" the blue skeleton shouted.

That seemed to spur the skeleton by your side into action and he started to hurry towards them, but stopped himself and glanced back at you. He had a conflicted expression on his skull, as if he knew that he should go with his colleagues but he also looked like he didn't want to leave just yet.

"Cross? Is that your name?" you asked.

He nodded firmly, "yeah..."

"You should probably go with them. I'll be fine, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment longer before his skull took on a determined expression. "stay safe then," he said before sprinting across the valley to the others.

They disappeared into the portal and silence blanketed the forest once more and for the second time today, you shouldered your bag and rifle, neither of which seemed to have been damaged from the debris that had hit you.

Just before you climbed back up the hill, you glanced around the little valley. While a couple of trees had been knocked over, no lasting damage seemed to have been caused by the conflict. There wasn't even any bodies that you'd have to think about burying.

[...]

Time passed as it always did. Summer came and went without anything else out of the ordinary happening and you began preparing for Winter.

You couldn't stop thinking about the kind skeleton that had saved your life. His skills were impressive and you'd never met anyone who actually knew how to fight like he did since it really wasn't necessary nowadays. Oddly enough though, you began to realize that you also found him...handsome.

You'd never heard or met any other skeletons before him and you certainly hadn't since. Maybe they were very rare or maybe there just weren't any living in the area. Either way, it was probably because you'd never found actual skeletons scary. You never would've imagined actually being attracted to one though, monster or not.

You wished you could see him again.

But you didn't know where he was from or really anything else about him besides his name.

So you tried to it put out of your mind and focus on stockpiling food and fuel for Winter.

Today you were chopping up some firewood. You'd been doing a little at a time over the past few weeks so as to not overwork yourself and by now you'd managed to stockpile just about two month's worth. You estimated that you were probably almost halfway done but you wanted to be sure you had enough just in case.

Just as you cleaved yet another log in half, you heard someone approaching from the forest. With your trusty axe still in hand, you turned to see who or what was intruding on your little piece of rustic paradise.

To your shock, Cross was standing only a few paces away from you. He looked much the same as he did before, although his uniform had since been mended.

"uh, hey again," he said in a quiet tone of voice.

For a moment, you were tongue-tied but quickly tried to recover. "H-hey! Um, what...brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?"

A purple glow flickered across his cheekbones and he rubbed the back of his cerebral vertebrae. "i wanted...to come check on you..." he muttered. "i hope this doesn't sound weird, but i just had to see you again..."

You leaned your axe against the chopping block so as to not risk dropping it on your toes. Running a hand over your face, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"No, it's not weird. I was actually hoping we'd see each other again."

His eye sockets widened in surprise and his pale eyelights quickly scanned your face as if he didn't believe what he'd heard. After a few moments, he grinned, although his cheekbones were still flushed that beautiful purple which you thought was adorable.

"really? you don't mind that i just showed up? i mean, i would've called first but..." He glanced away from you as he trailed off.

"Well, I don't exactly get cell service out here so you couldn't have anyways," you responded with a chuckle.

Cross chuckled as well as he moved closer to you. "on another note, did you need any help here?" he asked as he motioned to the pile of wood.

"I think I'm done for now but if you don't mind, you could help me carry all this back to the cabin," you suggested and began to scoop up an armful.

He nodded and started to pick up what was left of the pile. You walked around to the front door and propped it open to make it easier to bring the firewood inside. By the time you'd unloaded your armful in the large stack you had been steadily building, Cross appeared in the doorway with a much larger armful of wood. He didn't seem to be struggling with the weight but he also didn't have a free hand to unload.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him and wondered how he'd even managed to pick up such a large amount in the first place. Still, you took pity on him and started taking off a couple of the pieces from the top of his armful.

"You didn't just bring all of the firewood in at once, did you?" you teased.

He smirked but shrugged his shoulders as his hands were still occupied. "well, it wouldn't make sense to go back and forth if we didn't have to, right?"

You shook your head and just continued helping him. He was right in a way. If he hadn't offered to help, you would've had to make probably a dozen trips, which would have been pretty tiring.

Your fingers brushed against his hand by accident and you quickly pulled back. Although, Cross didn't seem to notice your embarrassment and he finished stacking the remaining pieces of wood he had been holding.

Clearing your throat, you tried to distract yourself from what had just happened. "So, how are you doing?"

"i'm doing alright, i suppose," he hummed. "what about you? did your injuries heal properly?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I don't even think it left a scar but if it did, my hair covers everything anyways."

His expression turned into one of relief. "that's good, i'm really sorry that i had to leave abruptly like that."

"No, I completely understand!" You hesitated for a second before asking, "Was...Dream okay...?"

His eye sockets narrowed and he seemed to grow more serious for a moment. "yeah, he's fine."

"Oh, that's great to hear."

A bit of an awkward silence settled between both of you. Since he seemed like he wasn't going to expound on what had happened further, you decided to try to lighten the mood and motioned for him to sit down on the couch by the fireplace. He sat down gratefully but his posture seemed a bit stiff.

"Can I tell you something?"

He tilted his skull and gave you a curious look. "what's up?"

Rather than answer immediately, you reached over and placed your hand on his. He briefly glanced down but when he didn't pull away, you took that as a signal that he was okay with the contact for the time being.

"This sounds weird, but I haven't been able to get you out of my head for months."

One of his bonebrows twitched but his expression otherwise remained neutral.

You took a deep breath and continued. "Cross... I really like you."

He placed his other hand on top of yours and smiled. "well, that does sound weird...but i really like you too." His cheekbones flushed with purple as he spoke but he didn't look away from you this time.

You couldn't help but laugh. This conversation felt like it'd come straight from a fairytale and yet it was real. Your heart swelled with joy and while you were certain your cheeks had turned bright red, you couldn't care less right now.

Cross chuckled softly and, to your surprise, he reached over to wrap an arm around your shoulders. This brought you closer together but not uncomfortably so. Even like this, it seemed he was still being considerate of your feelings.

"does this mean i can come over again to see you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

You nodded vigorously, "For sure!"

[fantasybooktournament]

Book Reveals for Round 1 of Mystery Book Tournament

titles and descriptions under the cut

The One with The Obnoxious Legal System is A Conspiracy of Truths by Alexandra Rowland

The world's most obnoxious old man has been arrested for charges of witchcraft by the world's most obnoxious legal system. The story follows him utilizing every tool at his disposal to escape death including his fruity apprentice, his ever-tired lawyer, and most of all stories. Half of this book is the old man telling a story to someone he is either trying to sway, trick, or simply entertain.

The One with the Rightful Heir is Magyk by Angie Sage

A child soldier nearly freezes to death and so must join the escape of the rightful heir, a powerful wizard, and the rightful heir's bumbling dad, brother and dog.

The One with No Indoor Plumbing is In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Have you ever thought ‘hey going to a magical fantasy land might suck a little’? Our intrepid hero has been invited to a school for future heroes in a land of elves and trolls, harpies and mermaids…and there’s no indoor plumbing. Also they’re training children as warriors and have little to no respect for diplomacy.

The One with Vampires and Farms is The Queen of Darkness by Miguel Connor

In the far-flung future, the earth is irradiated and vampires rule the world. Humans are kept in farms, and our protagonist is sent to one to learn about an illness that is appearing in the humans which can infect and kill vampires. There he learns about the human cult, and gets told by them that vampires were once human.

The One with Possessed Nuns is Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson

A young nun in fantasy-France lets a powerful revenant take possession of her body in order to protect her monastery from possessed soldiers. No one believes she can possibly control the evil creature, but as she uncovers a sinister plot at the very heart of her country, she finds herself growing closer to the revenant by the day.

The One that Becomes Queernormative is A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows

Protagonist starts off in a queer phobic society and is bound to marry a girl from the neighboring kingdom against his wishes, being gay. When his sexuality is dramatically revealed after he's being assaulted, the political bets seem off, but the other kingdom is queernormative and instead offers to marry him to his bride's brother instead.

The One with Sisters and Unsuitable Men is An Earthly Knight by Janet McNaughto

The main character's older sister has run away with an unsuitable man so it's up to her to marry a suitable one. But as she worries for her sister and hopes to find her, she encounters a strange man, rumored to have been kidnapped by the fae.

The One with the Magic Italian Notebook is City of Masks by Mary Hoffman

The main character, a young boy, is seriously ill but his life is transformed when an old Italian notebook gives him the power to become a stravagante, a time traveler with access to 16th century Italy. He wakes up in another time and place during carnival time and meets a girl his own age who is disguised as a boy in the hope of being selected as one of the Duchessa's mandoliers. Political intrigue ensues.

The One with the War Against Colonizers is Fire Logic by Laurie J Marks

The last living member of a border tribe, a deadly philosopher-soldier, a truth-seer, a gentle man, and a man who can see the future form a beautifully queer family around a drug-addicted blacksmith who holds the power of the land itself so that she can end the war against colonizers that has continued for 30 years

The One with the Healer's Quest is Dreamer's Pool by Juliet Marillier

The first in a mystery fantasy trilogy about a wrongfully imprisoned healer and her quiet but strong prison friend who get busted out of prison by an otherworld being. In exchange, for seven years she must endeavor to help anyone who asks for it. A gentle local prince has fallen for his fiance through their sweet and poetic correspondence but is shocked by her cruelty when she arrives, can the healer discovers what has happened and help solve his problem?

The One with Imaginary Friends is Hexwood by Diana Wynne Jones

A pre-teen girl who relies heavily on the advice of her four imaginary friends goes into the local patch of woodlands one day and discovers it's much bigger on the inside. There, she meets a depressed sorcerer/assassin who makes a child out of her blood and his to fight against his enemies on another planet. Meanwhile, someone on Earth has started up a machine that's said to be able to make dreams come true, and this is a big problem for the evil interstellar megacorp that's been dumping prisoners on Earth and stealing their flint.

The One with a Time-Traveling Dragon/Furnace is If That Breathes Fire, We're Toast! by Jennifer J. Stewart

A boy moves with his mom to a new place where he meets a girl and a time-traveling dragon/furnace who teaches him about himself.

The One with the Multiverse is Nine Princes in Amber by Roger Zelazny

An amnesiac man finds himself embroiled in deadly political scheming, thrust into a strange multiverse in the hope of trying to claim from out under his various rival siblings feet the throne to the city at the center of reality.

The One with Mage Trials is Spellslinger by Sebastian de Castell

In a magical society one must complete their mages trials by 16, or else become a slave to that society for the rest of their life. The main character is a 15-year-old boy who has one last chance to complete his trials. Only, his magic is gone. With his fate looming, he meets a mysterious traveling stranger who shows him a different path than the one that has been laid out for him by his people.

The One with the Loser Noble Scholar is Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

Loser noble scholar shacks up with the best swordsman of the city and makes him fight a bunch of duels mostly out of boredom but also a bit because of politics. Feels slice of life ish though there are stakes

The One with the Nonbinary Cleric is The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo

In this novella set in an imperial Chinese inspired fantasy world, a nonbinary cleric investigates the story of an empress and her ...controversial rise to the throne, as told by an elderly handmaiden who knew her.

The One with Geese is Thorn by Intisar Khanani

Between her cruel family and the contempt she faces at court, the Princess has always longed to escape the confines of her royal life. But when she’s betrothed to the powerful prince, the princess embarks on a journey to his land with little hope for a better future. When a mysterious and terrifying sorceress robs the princess of both her identity and her role as princess, the girl seizes the opportunity to start a new life for herself as a goose girl.

The One with the Teenage Witch Coven is The Scapegracers by H. A. Clarke

Lesbian teenage witch accidentally becomes adopted by popular girls. They form a coven and vow to get revenge on those who have been wronged. Chaos ensues.

The One with the Angel and the Demon is When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

A demon and an angel decide to go to de goldene medina to search for a girl they know who's disappeared on the way over.

The One with an Unsettling Future is Zel by Donna Jo Napoli

High in the mountains, a young girl lives with her mother, who insists they have all they need -- for they have each other. The girl's life is peaceful and protected -- until a chance encounter changes everything. When she meets a beautiful young prince at the market one day, she is profoundly moved by new emotions. But the girl's mother sees the future unfolding -- and she will do the unspeakable to prevent her daughter from leaving her...

The One with the Bioweapon is Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

It's post an apocalypse, that was started by a cult, that twists people into horrible body horror monsters. A trans boy raised in the cult is infected with a bioweapon by them and shortly after escapes. He joins a group of queer teens where he finds friends a community, and he bands together with them to take down the cult.

The One with Arabian Nights AND Hades & Persephone is Keturah and Lord Death by Martine Leavitt

Arabian Nights + Hades and Persephone! A mysterious danger plagues an unexpected kingly visit, and a young woman embarks on a quest to find her one true love before all is lost...

The One with the Lion is Sarah's Lion by Margaret Greaves

A princess longs to travel so is locked in her room. A lion comes to her. Eventually, she has to choose whether she will stay or go.

The One with the War Veteran is The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold

War veteran with chronic pain contracted by a goddess to save her chosen queen

[azsazz]

Dioxazine

Modern!Rhys x Reader

Summary: While at the art shop looking for the necessary supplies for your first semester of art school, you get a bit distracted by the cocky cashiers intriguing eye color.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,254

Notes: It’s 1am and now it’s Sunday so I’m posting rn so @writingsbychlo can see this when she wakes up. This one’s for you babes! I hope you love it.

P.S. Gosh I just love young, cocky Rhys so much. 😭

_________________________________________

You really should’ve grabbed a basket.

Your arms are stuffed with supplies: sketchbooks, pencils, oil paints, a roll of canvas, anything and everything you could need for the start of your classes in a few days. 

They’d given you a list of all of the tools needed for your first semester at art school and yeah, you could’ve ventured to the nearest chain store, but you thought it’d be better to support the local art supply in town.

That is, until you meet the cashier.

He looks anything but friendly, leant over the expanse of the counter, flipping through a magazine ever so lazily. The boy doesn’t even look up when you drop your supplies down, spilling across the surface with purpose.

“Hello?” you crow when you’ve been standing there for a solid minute while he reads whatever article is next to the full page perfume ad with a half naked model on it. You catch sight of his long fingers rubbing the corner of the pages, separating them from each other so that he can turn to the next.

“Hi,” he responds blankly, like you’ve just run into him and he doesn’t know why you’re speaking to him. Your brows knit together as you stare at him, wondering if he always acts so careless about his job or you’ve just caught him at a bad time.

“I, um…” you trail off, frustrated because all you want to do is purchase your supplies and you’ll be out of his inky black hair. “Can you look at me?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw in annoyance, which is fine because his rudeness is irritating you as well, so at least you have that in common.

Finally, he snaps shut the magazine and looks up at you. His glaring eyes are startling, not because he looks menacing, but you’ve never quite seen a color like that before, bright violet with flecks of a dark hue that reminds you of the stars in the night sky. 

They make you itch to test out your new paints.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he stands to his full height, and holy Gods, he towers over you by at least a whole foot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

You clear your throat, “Yes, actually. If you’re not too busy, that is.” You glance at the magazine, now facedown on the counter.

The side of his mouth quirks in a wicked smirk, “You’ve caught me at a good stopping point.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath that only makes him smile wider.

“I’m looking for the umber oil paint but I didn’t see any on the rack.”

“Freshman then?” his teeth are bright in his grin. He rounds the corner of the counter, leading you back the way you came. There aren’t many students milling about the small shop, and as you pass the pen section you have to talk yourself into not purchasing another just for the sake of how pretty it looks.

You make a face at his insinuation. “You can tell that just from my paint selection?”

“Yes and no. No, because umber is a staple color for most painters,” he glances at you over his shoulder as he slows to a stop before the rack of organized paints. He takes his time, giving you a once over that makes you flush and hug your arms across your chest. His smile only grows and you scowl in response. “And yes, because If you weren't a freshman you would’ve asked for a specific one. There’s burnt umber and raw umber.”

He plucks both tubes of paint from the shelf and holds them out to you, “Very different colors.”

“They look the same to me,” you mumble, studying the swatches on the tubes. They’re a few shades off from each other, surely that can’t make that much of a difference.

You definitely don’t take into account how small the tubes look in his large hands, and you’re absolutely not thinking about taking one just to compare the size difference between your hands.

“Trying to decide which one to get?” His question is innocent but the look on his face is anything but.

You flush and the collar of your shirt seems to tighten out of nowhere. “Yes.”

He stares down at you for a moment, making sure that you know he’d given you an out.

“You’re going to need both.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, since you seem to know so much about art.”

“That’s why I work at the art store,” he replies bluntly, letting you lead the way back to the register, “Because I know my shit.”

“Well it’s definitely not because of your less than charming personality,” you retort, shocking yourself. You’re usually not so rude to people but there’s just something about this guy that’s getting under your skin. 

All you want to do is go back to your dorm.

“You think I’m charming?”

You scoff, “Absolutely not,” You catch yourself peeking at how well fitting his pants are against the round of his ass as he makes his way back to the register side of the counter. You shake your head, scolding yourself. “Now are you going to ring up my stuff?”

“No, but I will check you out.”

You groan, “That was terrible.”

“Terrible or cute?”

You give him a pointed look, face straight. “Terrible.”

“I can try another,” he says as he finally starts ringing up your art supplies.

“No thank you, just the supplies for me today, thanks,” you try, silently praying that he hurries. You can’t stand the thought of being around him for much longer if he spouts another cheesy line that you know he’s probably used on plenty of girls before. You don’t care how cute he is.

“You know what else these are good for?” He holds up the tube of Dioxazine purple paint, the one that looks like a bottled color of his eyes.

“I really didn’t ask.”

“Finger Painting.”

The retort rolls quickly off your tongue and just as swift to wipe that smile off of his gorgeous face. “Should’ve known that’s what you’re into, since you act like a three year old.”

His eyes glow, taking the card you’re holding out for the transaction. You don’t even care how much the total is, you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Feisty.”

“Just give me the damn receipt,” you’re pretty sure your cheeks look like they’ve been brushed with the cadmium red paint in your bag as you hold out your hand for your card and the thin sheet of paper.

“Yes, ma'am,” he obeys, passing both over to you, sliding your bag of supplies across the counter.

“And don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you? Darling? Or your name, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Any other requests?” he asks cheekily, planting his hands on the counter so he can lean toward it, towering over you.

You take the bag, fully planning on ignoring him in favor of taking a brisk walk towards the door but he’s shuffling around under the counter and trailing after you.

“Yeah, you can stop following me,” you remark, catching sight of the bunched up sweatshirt in his hands. It’s nowhere near cold yet so you don’t understand why he has that on him. Maybe it got cold in the store while he was sitting on his ass doing nothing.

“My shift just ended, Darling.” 

You halt as you step onto the sidewalk. He takes a few steps further, swinging around to face you when he realizes you’ve stopped.

Narrowing your eyes up at him, you say, “Didn’t I just tell you not to call me that?”

“You didn’t tell me your name, so I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you pet names, Darling.”

“(Y/N),” you nearly growl, “My name is (Y/N).”

He repeats your name and you clutch your bag tighter in your hands because you’d never heard it sound quite that lovely coming out of someone's mouth. It gives you goosebumps.

“I’m Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys.”

“I’m honored,” you respond sourly, hating that he’s smiling at your annoyance. “Can I go now?”

You try to step around him but he slides into your path again, blocking your way back to campus.

“You know my friends and I are throwing a party at my place tonight,” he starts, glancing up at the street over your head before returning those piercing eyes on yours. He shrugs.  “You know, before class starts up and all that.”

“Cool.”

He barks out a laugh that licks up your spine in the best way. “That was me inviting you, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It wasn’t,” you say, even though it was.

He cocks his head, grinning crookedly at you, “Don’t be like that.”

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at this cocky boy. You blurt the next question that comes to mind instead of giving him an answer. “Why are you even working here?”

“So I can meet pretty girls like you,” he responds innocently, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks in an exaggerated manner.

You can’t help but to laugh, shifting your bag to the other arm, “Try again.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a wicked curve and your heart definitely doesn’t stutter and you certainly aren’t thinking about breaking out the oil paints you’ve just bought.

“I might work at the art supply store to get a discount on my own supplies,” he starts, “Or I might work at the art supply store so that my father thinks that I can be independent and make a living off becoming an artist instead of taking over the family business.”

And well, you weren’t expecting him to be so open about it. 

Unsure of what to say, you focus on the fact that he said he was also taking classes for art. 

“You’re in art school?”

“I know, the patchwork tattoos make me seem like something much more scholarly,” he grins and you had taken notice of the array of…interesting patchwork tattoos littering the tanned skin of his arms.

“Yeah,” you huff a laugh, “The Mickey Mouse one really screams finance major.”

Rhys’ smile falls, an offended scowl taking over his perfect face. “It’s not just a tattoo of Mickey Mouse,” he protests, turning his arm so the both of you can see the silly tattoo better. “He’s…on drugs, so it’s cool, ya know? An aesthetic if you will.”

You stare at it, then at him, an eyebrow raised. 

He gives in. “Okay…so it was a dare but there’s a good story behind it, I swear! I can tell you more about it on our date.”

“Date? I thought it was a party?”

“So you’re coming?”

You purse your lips, unimpressed. “I didn’t say all that.”

The blaring sounds of a horn cuts off his response, drawing both of your attention to the street. There’s two boys in the front seats of the gorgeous vintage Bronco, painted your favorite color. Your mouth nearly drops at the pristine condition of the car, and then again once you catch sight of the handsome passengers.

The boy driving the car leans over the one in the passenger, “C’mon Rhys, hurry up and get her number or we’re going to do this thing without you!”

The boy in the passenger seat glares at the driver, your cheeks heating up under their stares.

“You heard him,” Rhys says, smiling so wide you’re afraid his cheeks might split open. “Can’t have them thinking I didn’t get your number, right?”

“You didn’t.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, yielding only a small step when you take one forward. When you don’t say anything he continues, “At least come to the party.”

“No, thanks.”

“Please?”

You exhale an exasperated breath. He just won’t give up. “If I say yes will you get out of my way?”

“Definitely,” he nods his head eagerly.

“Then yes,” you finally relent and he beams, “I will see you there.”

“Sick,” he mutters proudly to himself. He shoves his hand into your bag and you fumble for a second, yelping and straightening the paper sack as he rifles around for something.

Rhys pulls a sharpie out and grabs your arm. You’re so caught off guard that you just watch as he writes his number on your forearm in thick black letters. Your mouth drops open in shock. You’ll have to scrub your skin raw to try and get it off.

He steps back, admiring his work. He caps the marker and tosses it back into your bag, “My number looks good on you, you should consider getting that inked. I have a friend, if you want.”

“Let me guess, he’ll be at the party.”

His grin is shit eating.

Rhys winks, pulling out a can of spray paint from beneath the bunched up fabric of his sweatshirt as he retreats towards the car, and it’s then that you realize he's only brought the jacket so he could take the paint, hiding it in the fabric so no one would see.

He shakes the can in the air for emphasis, swinging a leg up into the backseat of the convertible. The grin on his face is something you'll be thinking about for the rest of the day.

“I'll paint something pretty for ya, (Y/N). See you tonight.”

[adrianasunderworld]

Yet another round of Papa Crewel

If Yuu didn’t know how to sew already, they are going to learn now. Crewel cares a lot about clothes, how they're cared for and tailored. Man has known how to make clothes as long as he can remember. He insists that Yuu at least learn the basics as a valuable life skill. You never know when something needs to be fixed or tailored. If Yuu already knows, and even enjoys it, this is a great way to bond. A hobby they can share. Yuu has full access to Crewels sewing room. If there are two people messing around in there, it may finally widdle down his fabric stash. Maybe.

Another of Crewels interests is cars. his vintage red convertible is his pride and joy. He’s currently in the process of restoring another car. Whenever Yuu is over for the weekend, he’ll make them hold the flashlight for him while working on the car. And yes, Grim is not excused from this either. He’s small, he can bring the light under the car.

Crewel often has Yuu act as his assistant in class. Potion brewing and alchemy are more science than magic, but even so, sometimes there are things that do require it, and thus Yuu is unable to participate. So Crewel offered to have them help him as an assistant for class credits. Even before they got close. 

Even so, spending all this time with Crewel, Yuu has found they've picked up all this information with ease. Labeling, collecting, and generally working with all the supplies made them commit it muscle memory without trying. Plus actually studying, it shouldn’t be surprising when Yuu broke the top 20 in the exam scores. Crewel was so proud of his pup.

Crewel would find it amusing if Yuu commented on a classmate. Puppy love was an adorable thing, even if Yuu tried to hide their small crushes from their father figure. But if one of the boys like Yuu instead? That is a different ballgame. These mutts think they're good enough for his pup? The audacity. Since taking in Yuu, Crewel has found he very much is the protective sort. 

Crewels mother found out he had taken in a child, and immediately came to visit. Picture the most fabulous older woman you can, with furs even more luxurious than her sons, still smokes those fancy long cigarettes, and has divorced a few rich men. That’s Crewels mom. And she is fantastic. Finally, someone new for her to spoil!

Ms.Crewel is nothing if not doting. She loves to shop, and uses Yuu as an excuse to take them out. Presses them for all the gossip. Gives advice on crushes that mostly amounts to “Go for the rich ones”. She even includes Grim and gets him fresh tuna and sparkly collars. She’s going to insist on family travel next time winter break rolls around.

Crewel is usually who Yuu calls when something at Ramshackle needs to be fixed, and they don't have the ability or tools to fix it themselves. “I can’t figure out what's wrong with my dryer.” “I’ll take a look after class. If I can’t figure it out you can do laundry at the house.”

As much as Crewel has become Yuus family in this world, sometimes they'll remember the old one they left behind. Any family, friends, pets, places they liked to go. Sometimes the feeling of missing gets too much and Yuu gets emotional. Or sometimes they’ll have a nightmare about what they've experienced. Sometimes they'll dream of waking up in a coffin that never opens. Or facing an overblot all alone. Either way, usually they deal with it alone, or Grim is there to comfort if he’s awake.. But this time the little monster is dead to the world. The nightmare still fresh in their mind, Yuu wanted very badly to be comforted and not alone. They decided to try their luck, and with a blanket wrapped around them, went to Crewels room. Luckily he was still up, laying in bed reading.

“Pup, what's wrong?”

“I..I had a nightmare. Can I hang out in here?”

Crewel patted the empty side of his bed and Yuu laid down and got comfy. It reminded Crewel of when he was a child and would crawl into his mothers bed after a bad dream. Like she used to, he gently stroked Yuus head, and soon enough they were back to sleep. Eventually Crewel closed his book and turned off the light. Yuu unconsciously curling up into their new fathers side. 

[mysticmunson]

lone star: chapter one

summary: eddie had packed up his things and moved to the big city, indianapolis, but when he enters the fast-growing world of the adult entertainment industry, it gets lonely.

rating: R

warnings: smut, filmed sexual acts, drinking, smoking, mentions of BDSM/BDSM related tools. let me know if i've missed any.

authors note at the end :)

word count: 8.8K

The cool air of Indiana nipped at Eddie Munson’s cheek, the slight burn of his aftershave still leaving him grimacing in the presence of the blue building. As his cigarette came to just ashes and smoke, he stomped it out before walking inside the brightly lit studio, pushing his sunglasses to his hairline. 

Hawkins left little to be desired after he graduated from high school, already feeling the unemployment office calling his name as the boys of corroded coffin went off to college. With his last check from The Hideout and necessities in his bag, he headed for Indianapolis. He would have gone further, but part of him couldn’t be too far from Wayne, ringing him every other day to recall the cheap french toast he ordered that made him experience euphoria or to ask Wayne about his j0b.

The latter always being responded with, “Same ole, same ole kid.” 

He found a job at a local pub, not the kind he would perform at, but one that at least didn’t play Madonna every night. The walls were splattered with neon paint, posters of celebrities he had never heard of across them, and large, wooden bar counters with obscure stains. 

He was, somehow, able to convince them to give him a chance bartending. He didn’t know if he’d be good, but he knew the paychecks far surpassed that of a busboy. Thankfully the people of the big city were much more accepting of long hair and loud personality, partially thanks to the liquor, but companys, company.

After a few months, he was operating by himself on weekdays, typically being greeted by the same older men who recalled stories of being in war or middle aged women sucking his red wine supply. 

“Bourbon.” A middle aged man gruffed, slightly disheveled as a few buttons on his shirt were undone and his hair tousled. Eddie nodded, knowing better than to piss off the hand that feeds you, even when there was no hello or please. 

“Sure thing.” Scrunching his sleeves to his elbows, the chilling air of November not reaching all the way to the back of the building. Pouring the copper drink into the logo-adorned glass, he placed it in front of the stressed man wordlessly. 

“Thanks.” he responded shortly, downing it in one swing, signaling another round. Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, but nodded, grabbing the cup again and refilling it. He felt the strangers eyes bore onto his back, trying to remember if he wore any offensive clothing or forgot to wash out a stain. 

Spinning back around, he set the cup down again, but the man's gaze didn’t falter. His thick rimmed glasses fell down the slope of his nose before he adjusted them, “What’s your name, kid?”

The air became warmer as Eddie analyzed him, trying to remember if he was a cop he pissed off in adolescence. He did have a cop-esq haircut, brown with shades of gray that was thinning the closer it got to his forehead. 

“Eddie.” He quipped, grabbing a rag from under the counter to wipe up the reminisce condensation rings. The guy said nothing, still fixated on him as he straightened up the napkin stack. He wasn’t one to hold his tongue, something he had gotten better at since joining customer service, but this was testing his strength. 

“Listen man, I’m not gay or anything, it’s cool if you are but could you stop checking me out.” Eddie blurted, watching the opposing face distorted to a loud laugh, coughing at the seeming absurdity of the statement. 

His chortle faded into a quiet one as he sipped his drink, face clenching briefly before signaling another one with Eddie snatching it to restock. The glug noise was unprofessional, but he debated on just throwing it in his face alternatively, so subtle rebellion was going to be his best friend for the next few minutes. 

Slamming the glass down, the drink swooshed and let some drip down the sides. He walked to the other end of the bar, checking the beer taps as he realized they closed in about a half hour. Relief rushed over him as he heard the stool squeak, but the annoyance quickly returned as he realized the blue collared man just moved closer. 

“Eddie, I’m not gay, I’m a director. My name's Bill, I need an actor for a film and I think you’d be a good fit.” He clarified, clasping his hands in front of him, giving Eddie his time to cackle. His chest burned at how hard  it came forth, expecting attempted murder before a scouting agent. Wiping his finger at the corner of his brown eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh really? What kind of role? Will I have the honor of being freak number five in a John Hughes picture?” He joked, turning his back to try and make all the labels face towards the front, something that stephanie, the opening manager, relentlessly busted his balls over. 

Returning to his time to laugh, Bill released a far airier one than before, leaning in closer, “You ever seen a dirty movie?”

Within two weeks, Eddie had quit his job and was earning almost double what he made a month in half the time. He never thought porn would be his profession, especially being considered a late bloomer and losing his virginity at 20 to a random girl from The Hideout. His look made him distinct, which he knew, but this was in a positive way. 

His edgy persona and taste was combated by his warmness, making him appealing to the ever growing female centric demographic, he could be rough as long as it showed he cared. He was also endearing to the queer crowd, finding his outlandishness and comfortability relatable and easier to ease into than most mainstream content. 

“Hey kiddo!” Bill waved, coffee steaming from his mug, sipping it loudly before refreshingly sighing, “How’s my favorite rockstar?”

Despite their weird meeting, Bill became a mentor for Eddie over the past few months as his films gained popularity. He learned the ins and outs of the industry, who was worthy of working with and who you should avoid like the plague. 

“Just peachy, Captain.” Eddie saluted, going for his dressing room in the front hallway that connected to the various rooms used for filming. The room was painted a soft green and had become personalized as Eddie stayed longer. Black Sabbath, W.A.S.P. and old Corroded Coffin posters, Sweetheart the guitar on the dedicated stand, and a mug on his vanity that was filled with pens and miscellaneous things he always forgot to remove. 

Turning on his boombox, he removed his black sweatpants and tank top, leaving him in tight boxers that left little to the imagination. Shrugging on the fanciest thing he owned, he absorbed the warmth of the freshly dried robe that had his name embroidered in golden thread on the breast. 

The guitar riffs of Tony Iommi flooded his ears, practicing the notes with an invisible guitar despite the real one in arms reach. A steady knock interrupted his train of thought as he huffed, pausing the song with a click and marching to his door to swing it open.

“Oh hey, I just figured I'd say hi.” A girl said, standing with your feet turned in and hands at the strap of the messenger bag slung over your shoulder. A floral, knee length dress covered you modestly and the flat white sneakers on your feet showed stark contrast in your heights. 

“Sup, Eddie.” He pursed his lips together and shut the door, hitting the play button once more. This wasn’t the first time a friend of a star came on set, tried to flirt and then had a fit. He just didn’t have the energy to care at this point, deciding to resume his attention to the scathing voice of Ozzy himself.

As the track concluded, he heard the call to set, a signal that still brought chills down his spine. Despite being a seasoned professional, it was still relatively awkward to get naked and orgasm in front of people. Thankfully he often worked with a consistent background crew and only had to gamble on which star he would be paired with, unless it was a solo scene which was a whole other set of nerves. 

Shaking his shoulders, he took a deep breath and bounced on his toes. He grabbed the old bottle of perfume he had claimed as his own once an actor left it, spraying it over his chest as it cooled his skin. Fluffing his hair in the mirror, he meticulously fiddled with it as if someone's hands wouldn’t run through it in mere minutes. 

With his game face on, he sauntered to the backroom that was painted black with a soundstage built inside it. The scene was set in a bedroom with beige walls and a floral comforter. Most of his scenes were moderate in nature, not entirely vanilla with some angsty elements. The more extreme ones weren’t very common and were, typically, with stars he had worked with before, which gave him a clue that this wasn’t one he had worked with before. 

“Alright! now, meet my main man, Eddie!” Bill announced from behind, declaring your name, as Eddie’s hair whipped quickly, his eyes setting on the same girl from before, now in just a robe. His eyes enlarged briefly before returning to normal size, looking you up and down. Bill ushered you further onto set, giving you a tour of the studio as Eddie walked to the prop bed. Plopping down, he heard the spring squeak as he sat, his leg instantly beginning to shake impatiently. 

He typically knew who his co-stars were, either from peers in the industry or having seen one of their films himself. But he had no idea who this was. He rubbed the corner of his lips, feeling a bit of toothpaste that accidentally traveled with him and wiped it off. 

Frantic Bill was not the most enjoyable one, but it was the one the staff always received the morning of shooting. With four cups of coffee and counting, mixed with employees asking questions that could wait till after they were wrapped or mistakes that could be easily avoided, Bill was borderline manic. 

“Alright Eddie, you don’t make me nervous, I know that you know what to do. But our new starlet is fresh, she’s only done solo flicks, so if somethings off, just say the word and we’ll adjust.” Bill rambled, hand twitching against his blue jeans that had patches of faded denim scattered across them from continuous wear. 

Eddie nodded, “Okay cool, just wondering though, why am I working with a newcomer?” The question was warranted, he was quickly becoming one of the most sought after male actors and it was almost unheard of to have someone of his level with someone so inexperienced. VHS tapes were flying off shelves that had his name scribbled across them and he didn’t want one bad tape to ruin the rest of them.

The older man chuckled, placing a firm hand on Eddie's shoulder and jolting it playfully. “She’s a natural, her solos were so popular, people were writing to the fucking distributers about when her first paired scene would happen!” 

Before Eddie could question anymore, Bill walked away with the beckon of his name, but you strolled over shortly after. While Eddie didn’t want to deal with the awkward situation he had dug himself into, it was better than ruminating in his own thoughts, so he turned when he felt the edge of the bed sink beside him.

He recalled your name mentioned earlier, but pushed it back as it was unprofessional to use a partner's name while filming.The name usually stitched on the robe typically matched their stage name, so that was the only one that needed familiarity. 

“Eos?” Eddie snorted, making your head snap in his direction as he read the name on you. Your eyebrows furrowed, tilting your head to get a better look at his. his eyes were downcasted, focusing on the bracelets on his wrists. 

“Yes?” You replied, bringing one leg to bend on the bed, facing his side profile “I didn’t mean to interrupt you earlier, I just wanted to introduce myself-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, just another scene, yeah?” He interjected, but only made you more confused than before. Of course you knew his name already and practically made yourself sick from nerves on the taxi over, but now you subtly wished you had been assigned with someone else. 

The atmosphere was thick as the bustling crew assembled the equipment, clattering metal against the firm floor. You focused on the blush fake carpet beneath your feet, looking at the roots of the fabric and counting how many knots there were. It helped calm your already present nerves that only increased due to your partner’s reserved mood. 

“Hey!” A voice called, snapping both of your attentions to the cameraman who diverted his attention to you, peering through the lens, “I’m Rich, let’s get some angle ideas while we wait, I already know Eddie's. If you’re comfortable we could try it without the robe”

You nodded as Eddie placed his hands on his knees, standing up with a groan. Stretching his back, it popped loud enough to make you flinch as you stood. You slid off your garment to reveal a simple pink bra with light lace with a matching set of panties that fit you perfectly. Returning to the sheets, you sat in the previous position and adjusted your hair.

“Let's try one against the pillows, legs bent and spread. Again, feel free to veto any placement or cover yourself.” He affirmed, but you nodded, scooting back until you hit the plush pillows. settling against them, your legs slowly dragged open, holding onto the back of your knees to steady yourself.

Eddie made the mistake of looking up as Rich commanded you into compromising positions, having you on your elbows and knees, skin shining beneath the bright lights. Taking a hard swallow, he went to fetch some water, hoping everything would be sorted out by the time he returned. To his luck, he was now late.

“Munson! Showtime!” Rich hollered from the main room just as the bottle hit his lips, chugging the whole thing as he walked, using the back of his wrist to wipe at the corner of his mouth. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, hands in lap and ankles daintily crossed. 

Tossing the empty bottle in a trash can, he reached the blinding lights as a stylist came up to him to fix his hair. This was clearly not a scene that needed much excess, as there was no script prewritten or plot, this was pure sex. Your face had light makeup on, contrast to some of his other scenes where his partners wore charcoal black or vibrant reds, which was good as well.

Shrugging down his layers, he stood in his underwear, hands resting on his hips with a tilt as each stylist made their finishing touches on both of you.

Eddie watched as you gnawed on the inside of your lip, the foot balancing on the other, shaking sporadically with nerves. He remembers his first scene, not having done solo till later, where the woman was almost twice his age with a sultry voice. Before this gig, girls wouldn’t give him the time of day and he figured it had something to do with him. When in reality, he just had to get the fuck out of Hawkins.

The woman's long acrylics dragged across his pale skin as she rode him, praising his dick and how good he was making her feel by just existing. Thankfully the analytical aspects of the industry, like stopping mid-thrust to put more mascara on or to adjust a curtain, helped keep him emotionally removed from his co-workers. 

“Give ‘em hell, kid.” Bill winked, punching your shoulder gently before retreating behind the camera. It helped to have people like Bill on set, someone who wouldn’t sexualize his stars despite the context of the work, to him you were people. It wasn’t common to receive this kind of treatment, especially as a woman.

You nodded curtly, positioning to stand near the side of the bed, facing where Eddie stood. His attention was diverted towards the crew, face blank as he listened to a conversation he wasn’t involved in. You observed the varying tripods being set up at different locations, counting at least four cameras that would be utilized during this.

“Quiet on set!” Bill yelled, the whole room falling into automatic silence, “Now, since this is ‘Eos’ first partner scene and Eddie is fairly seasoned, we’re gonna start with just improv. Do what feels right, just have sex at some point.” 

Eddie's lip tilted to a faint smirk as he gave a thumbs up while you stuck to nodding, you’d probably pull a neck muscle by the end of this. The crew gave their calls to begin, another man standing fairly close with a boom microphone above your heads, but carefully out of frame. While everything felt so robotic, you put your head in the zone, the man who won’t even bother to look your way is the love of your life for the next hour. 

“Action!” Bill's voice boomed, Eddie's eyes finally flickering towards yours. They were a soft brown, twinkling with underlying mischief, as he sauntered towards you. Looking up at him, you glanced at his lips, still decorating a subtle grin, before shutting your eyes. 

His lips pressed against yours, soft and damp from the water he had downed. There was a hint of tobacco lingering from his mouth as he opened it more, sliding his tongue against yours. You barely registered how one of his hands cupped your cheek while the other found home at your waist. 

His touch was firm, calloused fingertips itching your skin and tucking hair behind your ear. You grasped his biceps, still weary of what kind of touch was acceptable. Walking backwards, you fell onto your bottom on the mattress. Eddie let out a soft laugh as your cheeks burned, but the film rolled on as you scooted further on the bed, your white heels on the comforter.

“You’re gonna have to change your sheets now, Sweetheart.” He remarked cockily, yanking your ankles in both hands to lift the shoes from the fabric as you laid down. His fingers danced against the buckle of the shoe, brushing past the veins on top of your feet. 

“Give me a better reason to wash them.” You smiled, looking at him through your lashes and fluttering them for extra effect. An eyebrow of his shot up as he lowered his attention to the lace covering you, pulling the lower half down your legs.

Tossing the flimsy piece to the ground, he lowered himself to hover above you, meeting your lips again as his clothed cock rubbed against your bare pussy. His nose pressed against yours, a bit cold against your burning skin, with his teeth catching your lower lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, the heels pressing lightly into his thighs

“Good, wanted to fuck you in these all night anyways.” He remarked, slinking back to put your legs against his chest, pressing a quick kiss to your inner ankle. Despite his vulgarity, the faint moments of affection were assuring. 

Eddie crouched down, resting between your legs and practically wearing your plush thighs. Nipping gently at the sensitive skin, his grip moved to your knees, pushing them to the sides as he inched closer to your throbbing sex.

His talent of cunnilingus should have been no surprise as he had given you no reason to doubt his mouth's abilities, he was just usually too busy being a bit of a smart ass for you to admire it thus far. But just as his lips moved against yours carefully, he repeated against your lower set. 

The silk skin danced too delicately against his coarse breath, your wetness giving him more accessibility to drag it up and down. You let out a shaky breath which fluctuated to a moan as he sucked your clit. Your head threw back as his digits ran through your slick until his middle one plunged into your cunt. 

“Oh fuck.” You muttered, hands resting upon your own breasts, trailing over your nipples as they perked up. You shuttered as Eddie found your deepest point, retreating to add another finger and finding it again swiftly. 

A moan left his mouth, giving extra vibrations to coarse through your veins and a hint of pride. His hips jutted against the bed as he indulged between your legs, he wanted to make a joke about how you were definitely eating pineapple, but opted not to as you moaned again. 

“Want you in my mouth, please.” You breathed, propping up on your elbows as his brown iris flashed to yours. He made a show of your dripping ecstasy on his fingers while you sat up, flattening your tongue against them before sucking them clean. 

He tried his best to hide his shock, focusing on freeing himself of his last bit of clothing, hissing as it sprang free and fell to the floor next to yours. He stepped back to give you room to kneel before him, racking a hand through his mane as you unclasped your bra. It joined the haphazard pile beside you as you inched closer until your tongue slid against the underside of his length.

“Hope it’ll all fit in my mouth, want to taste all of it.” You remarked, letting your lips graze his balls, showing how large his cock was compared to your face. A money shot.

While Eddie hadn’t paid much attention to you beforehand, he definitely was now. Especially as he watched you jerk him and took turns sucking on his balls. He let a string of curses slip past his lips, shutting his eyes with his head tilted back. He felt your attention diverted as gentle kisses pressed against his thigh and then his cock.

“Hmp, aren’t you sweet?” he mused, looking down and putting hands in your hair as you sucked on his tip, “Giving me kisses, you spoil me, beautiful.” He watched as you took more of him, cheeks hollowing and spit accumulating around him. 

Things were running much smoother than Eddie initially predicted. He didn’t expect much, which was a good start. During his first few videos, he thought he would fall in love with everyone, but always ended up annoyed. 

There was a seamless transition as he helped you back onto the bed, kissing you despite both of your juices on opposing lips. His forearm helped him balance as you cupped his face, deepening the embrace as he slid himself through your fold. As his tip intruded, you whimpered into the kiss, making him stop half way.

“You okay?” He whispered, head lifting a tad, seeing a small hint of glaze across them. You nodded, kissing him again feverishly as he pushed in. He thrusted shallowly, taking time to get you adjusted to his size rather than immediately going for it, which you appreciated. 

The sounds you produced were salacious, but flowed so effortlessly as the tempo accelerated. He watched as you bounced, breasts matching his pace in harmony. His mouth danced across your neck, sucking at any spot that elicited a favorable noise, making his way down to your chest.

As his lips wrapped around the bud, you cried out, hands going for his hair and heels pressing to his ass. Growling, he popped off, fondling the other breast to showcase a similar response. You were so responsive and it never seemed inauthentic, it just happened. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me'' Eddie began, resting his forehead against yours, “Come for me, do it.” He gritted as you whimpered, nails trailing down his back as your body relaxed further into his touches. 

“You feel so good, I'm gonna come.” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he rubbed your bundle of nerves. You withered against his chest until succumbing to his witchcraft, riding it out until Eddie had to pull out. His cock was a bright red as he pumped it, aiming for your stomach as he chased his conclusion. 

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s my girl.” He chanted as white ropes decorated your lower tummy, a blissful smile coming to his face as you regain your composure. You swiped your fingers through his masterpiece, humming as you tasted it.

“This is definitely worth a trip to the laundromat.” You bit your lip, suppressing the cheeky smile until you heard them call cut. 

Both of you jumped at the sudden noise, seemingly in a daze for the past 30 minutes. His body felt electric as he came down from his orgasm, sitting beside you on the bed as an assistant gave you towels and your robes.

Eddie watched as the black towel absorbed the remaining mess on your stomach, dipping in your belly button to be sure it was all clean. He stood and threw on his robe, warm as someone returned it to the dryer. He heard you sigh as you put yours on, embracing the warmth on your nude body.

“Oh, you are gonna be huge!” Bill exclaimed, hands clapping together, “You were a fucking natural!” Your cheeks warmed furiously at his remarks, crossing your arms against your waist. 

“And you, my boy, killer per usual!” Bill concluded, pushing his large glasses on his nose before racing to the crew to start cleaning up. While he had just spent the past half an hour inside you, Eddie was at a loss for words. 

He debated on saying how you really were picking it up naturally, that it was a fun scene to film, but that was too much. Too much for his post-finish mind and the fact he didn’t usually mingle with people he only worked with once. 

“‘Kay, see ya ‘round.” He interrupted the silence, walking off to his dressing room without even looking in your direction. You stood in slight shock, but went to your respective room, just yours was a guest suite. 

It was naive to believe one scene would lead to friendship, but a basic conversation would’ve been appreciated. you had to just keep reminding yourself why you’re here and that is for yourself. To pay your bills, to abide by your schedule, and to make you happy. Eddie munson wasn’t going to ruin that for you. 

—--

“Can you please not smoke that in my car!” Steve huffed while making a left turn, focusing on the road as an exhausted Eddie sat next to him, cigarette between his lips. The sun was on the cusp of rising as they made their way to the studio, one of the only cars on the road and surrounded by neon signs that informed of free rooms or late night specials. 

“Sorry.” Eddie grumbled, flicking the tobacco out the window and onto the cement. The soft hint of smoke was visible in the rear view until a truck drove over it, but he closed his eyes shortly after.

While he had left many people back in Hawkins, he didn’t expect two people to follow him; Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. They had gotten close a few months prior, an interesting dynamic of personalities that were all eccentric, but worked surprisingly well under one roof. The pair was looking for an out, equally tired of the dreary atmosphere of the small town they grew up in.

The circumstances of Eddie’s new career were not discovered until Steve and Robin worked at a Family Video in the big city, sorting through the new content to see their best friend and roommate kissing the neck of a busty woman. After staring at the plastic case, they shoved it in her bag under the counter and continued with their day. 

“Dude!” Robin exclaimed, slamming the front door to their apartment, Steve barely squeezing in. Eddie jumped in the recliner, clutching his chest, whipping his head around to see them rushing forward. She flung the tape into his lap, still astounded at the obscure situation they were now in. Just a few months prior, Eddie couldn’t even get laid, now he was doing it for his career.

Boisterously laughing, he held it up next to his face, “They went with this picture?” 

Hours of stories ensued over what his newfound career consisted of, such as who he worked with or discovering that cherry lube makes him break out in hives. The three laughed without an ounce of awkwardness, but he found something in Steve’s eyes, curiosity. 

Steve’s first scene would be later that week and he quickly became a fellow golden boy of the studio, soft features that enchanted audiences, but had dominance if needed. He ended up enjoying it more than he thought he would, treating it seriously and not just an excuse to have sex. Eddie caught him making a data sheet for work and bullied him for two weeks about it.

“It’s alright, man, I know it’s early.” Steve calmed his tone, pulling into the parking lot with sparse cars. Early morning shoots weren’t Eddie's forte, but Steve did them frequently, so he tagged along since he had a scene right after. 

The sound of combat boots and sneakers hit the hard floor as the duo walked in to find the snack table littered with donuts, fruit, and coffee. Rummaging through to find the perfect ensemble of breakfast options, Steve cringed as Eddie put four bags of sugar and two creams into his small coffee.

“Fuck off man, I can’t smoke my cigs or drink coffee in peace?” Eddie jested, bumping his shoulder with his own as he walked to Steve’s dressing room. He gave a quick wave to the production assistants that were setting up, observing the room they created in the few hours since Eddie had been here last night for his own scene with you. 

Rolling his eyes, Steve ate quickly before undressing and putting on his own robe while his friend sat and flipped through the random magazines on the table. He began reading about the latest Mustang model and the new advantages, not even registering Steve leaving.

Eddie still had his van, the same one he got for his 17th birthday after Uncle Wayne met him halfway with funds. With consistent income, he could afford a better car with some extra detailing, but he didn’t see the need. His van did what it needed; It drove, it had air conditioning, and it could play loud music.

Interrupting his reading was the sound of his stomach rumbling, making him rise to head to the snack table, toeing off his boots to avoid making extra noise. The sound of mumbling was heard through the walkway, the room for snacks and costumes connected to the filming room. Flinching as Rich yelled for the set to be quiet, he munched on his chocolate donut that covered his fingertips. 

“Good morning.” He heard Steve mumble, a husky morning voice that wasn’t too much of a stretch from his real one, but it made Eddie want to laugh nonetheless. Sticking his finger in his mouth and popping it off, he turned to make his way to reclusion.

“Morning handsome.” You replied pleasantly, making Eddie freeze. He didn’t even consider the fact you would be here today, yesterday was your first duet anyways, but now curiosity was getting the best of him as he walked to the brim of the room. 

The decor was cozy, plain colors with an abstract outline painting or two on the faux walls. You laid beside Steve, comforter pooled around both your waists as his hand relaxed at the edge, rubbing soothing circles. Stretching your back, you squeaked pleasantly at pop, your lingerie dress frame pushing closer to his chest.

Your noses rubbed against each other briefly as you inched closer, his lips trailing down to your neck, sloppy pecks slowly decorating your skin.

“What are you up to?” You giggled, pushing away playfully and laying your back against the white sheets. 

He gave a fake gasp, “What? Am I not allowed to love my girlfriend?” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” He clarified, brushing some of your hair away from your face, “I just like to do it this way.” He met your mouth in a sweet kiss, his hand cupping your jaw as he shifted on top of you.

Eddie watched captivated, he usually found watching his friends scenes more boring than anything, he had seen Steve’s penis more times than he would've liked. Your skin glistening under the gentle glow of the rising sun that was shining through the window, it seemed almost angelic. 

Steve pulled off your dress revealing no underwear, making him laugh earnestly as you covered your face. He grabbed your wrist and pulled them away, pecking your cheeks and nose.

“Oh, but I'm the vulgar one?” He teased, pushing his own boxers down until you were both nude. Fitting almost like a puzzle piece, his body leaned against yours as he slid a finger through your wet folds. The boom mic picked up the lewd sound, hearing it through the operator's headphones only a few feet in front of Eddie. 

He blushed at the noise even though a day before he had his face between your thighs. He watched as Steve thrusted inside you, finding a pace quickly as if he had made love to you for years prior. 

The growing intimacy of the scene made Eddie feel like a voyeur, observing as an attentive boyfriend pleasing his sweet girlfriend without an ounce of masochism. He wishes you had received a script yesterday and that he got more opportunities to do scenes like this, where he could play a passionate devotee.

While he only did hardcore scenes every other week, he still boardered the line more often than someone like Steve. Eddie’s looks were a blessing and a curse, finding himself in more obscure settings than just ones of a lover. He wasn’t boyfriend material in the industry or in general, seemingly. 

His own strife was interrupted to the sound of skin slapping, finding you bouncing on top of Steve with your hands planted on his chest. Your knees were secured at his sides, running a hand through your hair as it leaned back, moaning as Steve went further inside you. 

Hips swiveling in a calculated motion that seemed effortless, he groaned as his feet pushed against the blanket. Hugging you to his front and propping up his feet, he began thrusting into you as you cried out.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck-” He moaned, “I love you.” 

“I love you so much, don’t stop, please!”

With no doubt it was 100% acting, Eddie still felt a foreign clench in his chest as he watched Steve ‘make love’ to you. He wishes he hadn’t been so skittish yesterday as he thought of how his actions may have been perceived, palming his face subconsciously as he went to his own dressing room now.

It was a half hour before his own scene, but he grabbed his outfit on the way, observing the dark latex. It was an intense scene, recalling Bill mentioning a BDSM shoot this week as he looked at the calendar hanging behind his door. While he tried his damn hardest to not bring his own issues into his work, part of him felt frustrated and he was unsure if it was due to sexual needs or emotionally.

Taking off his day clothes, he was only in a set of latex pants that clung to him so closely, he was worried he would rip them before he even started. It still felt foreign to be the subject of attraction, more similar to a facade rather than true confidence. While the films brought him a better sense of self, sometimes as he looked in the mirror into his own eyes, he saw himself in high school, washing off the food someone threw at him.

Shaking his thoughts, he grabbed a cigarette from his discarded jacket and cracked open the window. Cupping the tip, he lit the end to inhale the tobacco, sighing as it infiltrated and evacuated his lungs. The wind blew at his bangs, reminding him to get a trim at some point before his vision was impaired.

As the stick faded into smoke, Eddie watched the cars driving past quickly, loud music and honking slotting between the breeze. The warmth nipped at his fingertips with a hiss, smashing it against the window sill and sweeping the ash. Flicking it into the bin and slumping on the couch, he was interrupted by a faint knock.

“Hey killer.” The voice called, waiting a moment before appearing with a cheeky smile. Leaning against the wooden door was Angie, a woman Eddie and Steve had both worked with numerous times, dressed in black lingerie under her slightly opened robe with hair and makeup done with precision. She was a veteran, starting in the late 70s when tapes were slowly becoming more accepted, and now in her early 30s.

“Hey, Ang!” Eddie smiled, “You my partner today?” She nodded, stepping further in as the door shut. She was one of the nicer women he worked with, not that most were vile, but she was warm. She never let you feel her stress or inhibitions, doing a scene with her meant you could relax into it, no matter how intense.

“Nice pants.” She snickered as Eddie's legs swung clumsily, rising with an eye roll. Following her out, he slipped on his own robe as they walked towards the other studio room. 

“Hey Ang?” Eddie began hesitantly, “Is it okay if we’re a little rougher today? If not, totally cool.” He felt weird asking for what he wanted in scenes, but if it was going to be a dominant and submissive one, it seemed like a good time to ask.

Nodding with a hum, she adjusted the strap on her shoe and held his shoulder prohibiting his walk. Giving him a pat, she walked again, fluffing her hair as they entered the stage. The black room was filled with various devices, from vibrators, paddles, ropes and any other thing you could think of.

The shoot wasn’t a long one, all of these devices wouldn’t be used, but his curiosity peaked when she ran her nail against the objects, deciding which ones she felt comfortable using. He, or the director, would be allowed to veto if they didn’t see fit, but it had to be something she was comfortable with in the first place. 

The manicured hand gathered her weapons, laying them on the bed in a jumbled manor. A vibrator, paddle, rope, and lube. These mixed with his own hands kick started his adrenaline as they spoke through the guidelines, some of her own rules and his. No spitting (her), no hickeys (both, makes filming other scenes difficult), and others. With her back against the black leather, his thighs squeaking beneath the latex, he took a deep breath as the red light flashed over the camera.

—

“Hey dude, have you seen the TV remote?” Robin called out to Eddie as he stepped inside their apartment, her head pressed to the floor as she looked under the sofa. Lifting his shoe, he began to pull at the laces and toss them to the cubby in the entrance hallway between Steve’s trainers and Robin’s sneakers.

He shrugged making his way in the kitchen, opening the cupboard to mostly half empty bags of chips or cereal. Digging through, he found no luck on food, but helped his friend solve her problem.

“Why the fuck is the remote in the pantry?” Eddie laughed, turning around and throwing it her way, dropping it almost instantly. Rolling her eyes with a grunt, the TV clicked on and was placed on the side table. 

Eventually settling on Lucky Charms, he grabbed an obnoxiously large bowl and filled it, finding a medium sized spoon to eat it with. He hated using large spoons and would rather eat it with a knife than a spoon that had way too many pieces on it. Flopping onto the old sofa, sock clad feet crossing over the ottoman, the pair watched a rerun of Match Game.

“How was work?” Robin broke the silence, seeing Eddie’s mouth filled with milk seeping out, his hand coming up to wipe it as he chewed.

While the nature of the men’s work seemed scandalous, there was no one who took it as comedically as Robin. Initially astounded that she not only befriended, but roomed with porn stars was soon turned to amusement at the true antics behind the theatrics. She’s seen Eddie scream after having to wax his ass, gone to pick Steve up from the studio after he fell mid scene and twisted his ankle, and both of them getting pink eye from fluid in their eyes.

The uncountable amount of stories she could recollect would make a killer coffee table book and she was always up to hearing more. While she could make an impulsive face, the last thing she’d do would genuinely judge them, all three of them could be themselves. 

When they all moved in together, Robin had to come out to Eddie, feeling the same pit in her stomach as when she told Steve. The speech she mentally prepared of, “Oh it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable living with me, I’ll find somewhere else.” Was quickly dissolved when Eddie nonchalantly responded with, “Shit, I love pussy too, much better than a dude’s ass. Trust me.”

She didn’t ask further about that one initially, though. 

“It was fine, worked with Angie on this BDSM scene.” He replied, taking another bite as the laugh track rolled in the back. She nodded, fingers fiddling with the cuff on her blue jeans, eyebrows raising in curiosity.

“Really? I feel like you haven’t mentioned one of those in a while.” She added, looking at him again, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. He wasn’t a prude, in any sense of the word, but the scene today was enough to make warmth rise.

“Nah, it’s been a week,” He chuckled, “It was pretty intense. Choking, spanking, orgasm denial, vibrators- I mean at one point she started crying. She was okay though, didn’t safeword or anything, but it was one of those scenes that makes both of you fucking exhausted.”

Their attention was pulled to the switch of programming, seeing a rerun of The Golden Girls come on, bobbing their head to the catchy tune. Unsure as to why, but they typically ended up watching it at least once a week, joking that Robin was Rose, Steve was Blanche, and Eddie was Dorthy. 

“Ah gotcha. Steve came back for like 5 minutes then went to lunch with his scene partner.” She divulged, taking a sip from her water, “She was nice.”

“Yeah, I had a scene with her yesterday, but I think I came off like a dick. I was kind of.” Eddie admitted, setting the empty bowl down and pulling at the hair on his brow. The constant scolding from not only Wayne, but his management team didn’t defer him from the anxious habit. He once had to wear eyebrow makeup during a particularly stressful week, a hole forming that Bill insisted be covered.

He thought back to the glimpse of their scene, wrapped arms around each other in genuine pleasure. The sunlight hitting skin just right with breathy moans infiltrating his subconscious. 

Robin nodded, if anyone would understand coming off wrong, it would be her. They had both been guilty of a loose mouth, babbling unintentionally or making an offhand comment. It was never done in malice. Social cues, anxiety, or insecurity always seemed to smack them right in the face.

“Don’t get in your head about it, Eds.” She assured, hand draping over the back of the couch, “It was one scene, from the sound of it, she’ll be around more. Just try to extend an olive branch. Steve is just a charismatic doofus, especially with the ladies which I’ll never understand why.”

Steve’s innate ability to captivate women, and men, was a God-given talent. It was hard for anyone to really dislike Steve, it explains how his polar opposites became his best friends, even though as they grew closer they discovered more similarities. Truthfully, it was something Eddie envied, how he could walk in a room and people would gravitate. Eddie had to fight for his relationships or they started over a common interest, like Hellfire or Corroded Coffin. 

As Eddie opened his mouth to reply, the sound of the key turning had their heads turning to watch as you and Steve walked in. Both much more awake than they were hours before, smiling as their conversation from outside fizzled out. 

“Hey Robin, Eddie.” You chirped, voice light as you threw an awkward wave, falling at your side with a reticent laugh. Steve pushed his yellow sweater to his elbows as the door shut behind them, walking fully into the living room as Steve called your name.

“Eddie, I didn’t know you guys filmed together yesterday!” Steve quipped, hand leaning against the opposing couch as you stood beside him. You looked notably relaxed at the moment, despite your cool composure at work, Eddie liked seeing his coworkers outside to see how much of a persona they exuded.

“Yeah.” He coughed, sitting forward to lean on his knees, “It was a good scene, you were great.” He cursed himself for his voice dropping half an octave as his nerves ate at him, he wanted to be your friend, but with no figurines or records to bond over, he was struggling to find new resources.

You nodded, tucking hair behind your ear and thanking him. It felt nice to have reassurance after what had occurred the day before. He seemed reserved as he did yesterday, but there was a hint of a smile, leaving the smirk behind in front of lights.

Steve bid you farewell as you left their place, the room silent until he reentered, slightly baffled. Throwing his hands up in confusion, staring directly at the mop-headed boy on the couch who was  trying to pretend The Golden Girls was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

“What was that? She said you were kind of a douche yesterday, my words not hers, she was more polite.” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms, “She’s super nice and our age!”

“Listen, I didn’t mean to come off as a dick, okay? I guess I just get awkward with new people.” Eddie huffed, rubbing his hands over his face laced with tension. Shit, he needed a cigarette.

“What are you even saying, you hit it off with all of them at work? You will talk anyones ear off about DND or one of the bands you like!” Steve exasperated, not believing Eddie’s comment in the slightest. He had befriended most on set, but he can admit he had become slightly more reserved in comparison to his high school tyraids. 

Eddie scoffed, grabbing his bowl, walking past Robin who sat in atypical silence. As the boys relocated to the kitchen, she rushed to her bedroom, leaving the door open to hear any juicy details for her future memoir.

“I don’t know, man. I’m gonna try to be more open, some things have just been off lately.” Eddie revealed, hands on the kitchen sink rim, “I can’t take it out on her or anybody. Hopefully we’ll work together again so I can strike a conversation.”

Steve nodded slowly, Eddie never talked about his feelings, even vaguely. The revelation must have been a significant act of exposure, so he quit the banter, patting his shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s not permanent, I’m sure she’s cool. Hey! Let’s go to Dinos together, maybe this weekend?” Steve suggested, recalling their local bar, that would be good for getting to know each other better, while hearing Robin’s door open quickly as she hurried in.

“Oo that sounds fun! Let’s go to Dinos!” Robin proclaimed, elbowing Steve jokingly, while Eddie shrugged and agreed. The two others walked away, leaving him to clean his cereal bowl in silence. The pack in his pocket practically etched into his skin as he finished up, going to their porch and shutting the sliding glass behind him.

The sun was down, but the sky was still light, bright colored stars decorating the galaxy in abstract shapes. The crescent moon was behind some faint clouds, making it appear murky in comparison. Grabbing his lighter, he lit the stick swiftly and inhaled the tobacco.

Sitting on the cheap lawn chair, his feet propped up against the rickety railing, the sound of rust colliding with his socks. The faint buzz of street lights beneath him hummed in his ear as he tapped his fingers, closing his eyes as he took a drag.

Eddie tried his best not to be philosophical or ponder too much on his past, always finding himself more frustrated than rehabilitated. But as he got older, he found it harder to ignore his own conscience. Sometimes his brain drifted off in a direction it typically didn’t, a road that included no killer guitar solos or the voices of those around him. 

He kept having a recurring dream about this road. He stood in the middle, surrounded by struggling crops, entering a season foreign to them. Sometimes he would be in younger, shaved head and baggy jeans, a teenager in a gym uniform, or now with a costume on from work like a pizza delivery outfit. Initially struggling to pinpoint if he had encountered this place before, he soon found solace in it, even if it just existed for him. 

Part of him liked going to sleep, knowing he’d have a chance to find this place where the road was disintegrating haltingly, the paint chipping in chunks. As his hand ran against the chair he sat in, he could picture himself there, skimming past the rotting produce. 

The cigarette between his lips neared its end, the fire fizzling into smoke as he stumped it out. He heard the phone ring beside him, the cord connected inside, the one that was placed out here when Robin heard too much of a phone call between Steve and a one night stand. Privacy is sacred nowadays. Especially for Robin, apparently.

“Hello?” Eddie gruffed, coughing with a bit of rustiness, sniffling at the chilly air. 

“Eddie! My boy!” Bill cheered, practically seeing the cigar between his teeth. Eddie let out a puff of air, smiling and running fingers against his brows.

“What’s up, Bill?” Eddie inquired, calls later in the day were fairly uncommon due to how often Eddie and Steve were at the studio. He wasn’t even supposed to work tomorrow.

“I got news, kiddo. Management thinks Eos will be our next big thing, but they’re debating on releasing her video with Steve before the one with you.” Bill explained as Eddie placed the phone between his cheek and shoulder. 

He should’ve seen this coming, kicking himself as his eyes shut tight. He shouldn’t be frustrated at Steve, his best friend who had been there for him more times than he could count and vice versa. But sometimes as he looked at him, he felt a burning in his chest, not of anger or jealousy or desire, it was more obscure. 

It felt like being in middle school, entering a new school after moving a city over to live with Wayne. His stature was smaller than those around him, not yet hitting a significant growth spurt or the latter part of puberty. The older boys surrounding him laughed with deep voices, clothes that weren’t too baggy or too tight, and with friends who seemingly didn’t care about either of those things. Eddie cared about not having things that came natural to some boys, like charisma or stereotypical looks. Even as he had grown to like his appearance, sometimes twelve year old Eddie stands before him all alone, like he had been for years.

“I think yours should be first, but they need more convincing, think you can come in tomorrow at 9? We can discuss with both of you what the scene should be themed, then a few hours later we’ll shoot. Nothing crazy, just something simple and sweet.” Bill interjected the man's internal monologue, jolting him to stand straighter, hand on the phone. Simple and sweet rang through his ears more than it should.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Thanks.” He replied as he wished him a goodnight, leaving him alone once more with the sound of static. 

Simple and sweet.

Finally.

authors note: hi there! its been a minute since i posted but i put my ussy into this so i hope u enjoy. have an amazing day lovelies mwah

taglist: @steeldaisies @meaganjm @masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirlngirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangell @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyy @ktjmac @dovesnrosesnreblogs @fknemily @spn-obession  @imagine-all-the-imagines @fangirl-hoe @deementedforever @hellfire-in-hawkinskins @cutiecusp @azydrateanatomy @edsforehead @harrys-tittie

if you'd like to be tagged just let me know :)

[unofficialadamtaurus]

I am chronically unable to keep fics to myself so enjoy this thing that's been on my mind since I reread an old ask

Adam knows oblivion. He didn’t used to; for twenty-three years of life, it was a concept and nothing more.

By its very nature it is unknowable until he is, at once and without warning, exhumed from it. Sensation crashes through his spinning mind: the ground under his boots, the weight and feel of his clothes, the air rushing into his lungs when he pulls in a reflexive breath.

His remaining senses wash over him in the aftershock of abrupt existence: the oily scents of industry and garbage; the clash of steel and shouted cries; and his sight. White at first, it clears to permit him a view of the fight reaching his ears.

He’s in a warehouse. Some kind of shipping hub, judging by the towering shelves full of boxes and stacked pallets. On, around, and between those shelves are swarms of people dueling in the deep shadows. Faunus. White Fang, by their clothes. Brightly dressed figures occupy the centers of the chaos.

He’s been aware and taking all of this in for a mere second before he’s moving. It’s not his own will that guides him, not really. It’s an urge. A need. He has to protect the one behind him. He has to.

And so he watches in horror as his blade carves through every White Fang member in his path. The first few don’t even move. They’re staring at him as he’s staring at them, all of them struck dumb.

What he sees of himself explains their reactions as much as his violence does: his limbs and weapons are icy white and blue, trailing frost like smoke.

He tries to stop but his body is a machine that bucks his control. Corpses fall around him. The faunus are shouting now, screaming his name, except they’re not targeting him except to slow him down. They’re trying to get to the one behind him—

They cannot do that.

He moves faster. His face is carved into a snarl but it’s the visage of a beast with its leg in a trap. He can’t escape whatever has a hold on him. He can’t let them get to her. He wants to but he can’t.

He wants to close his eyes. Apologize. Order the ones who haven't already run to get away from him, from whatever puppets him. He wants to and he can’t. There’s a wall between his will and his flesh. He’s a tool. A weapon. Nothing more.

Blood stains his blade, his hands, his face. The few Fang remaining have thrown down their weapons. Held up their hands. Fallen to their knees.

Back away, he begs himself. He steps closer.

Sheath your sword, he pleads. He raises it.

“STOP!”

He freezes. The boy he’d nearly decapitated—a teenager, no older than sixteen—looks up at him in abject fear. There’s blood on his face too, the blood of all his friends Adam had just killed.

It’s silent, or nearly so. The woman who’d cried for him to stop is gasping. She sinks to her knees with an audible thunk of flesh on concrete.

“How?” someone he can’t see whispers. His skin crawls; he knows that voice.

“Weiss?” Another voice, less familiar.

“Who is that?” A third voice, younger than the other two.

All the speakers are behind him. All he sees are the four kids trembling at his feet. Not so long ago he would’ve relished their fear as a sign of his growing power. Now, it makes his stomach churn.

Blood still drips from his sword. He tries to lower it. He tries to sheath it. He tries to tell them to run. It all, again, fails. He digs ragged mental fingers into that wall.

The gasps behind him turn to disbelieving sobs. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—not him! I-I couldn’t—“

“Breathe,” the third speaker advises. “Just breathe.”

He endures another round of unsteady sobs briefly interrupted by attempts at steady breathing. The wall between him and his body cracks under his mental assault; his fingers twitch. The faunus flinch.

“I-I don’t know what happened. They’re always difficult to c-control at first but,” she hiccuped, “this was different. It—he—wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t even trying to summon him!”

The wall shakes. He gains control of his face.

“Run,” he mouths at the faunus. They stare. Glance at each other. And then scramble to their feet and away, leaving their weapons behind in their fear.

“What—“

“Hey!”

Adam spins and levels his sword at the red-cloaked girl trying to run after them. She goes still with wide silver eyes that fix on his.

“Weiss?” she asks.

“I can’t dispel him, Ruby. I’m trying!”

Dispel. Dispel him? He tightens his grip on this ghostly version of Wilt.

“Are your summons…sentient?”

“N-no. Not really. I mean, they’ve all been Grimm until—until now.”

When Ruby next speaks, the question is directed at him: “Who are you?”

His weapon dips. Past her, he sees the blonde whose arm he severed so long ago. He sees Blake. And he finally sees the one controlling him. White hair, white skin, white clothes. Revulsion rips through him, revulsion so deep it obliterates the wall’s remains and slams barefaced into the howling need to protect the Schnee.

[according2thelore]

ohhhhh man now you’ve got me brooding over es!sam. it never occurred to me before that among them, he would end up feeling always the square peg in a round hole. the pride and resilience and hope he carried like medals in the first seasons gave him a sense of value and esteem, and i can’t imagine how it feels to be thrown into this inevitability where none of himself remains and in fact the bits he tries to hold onto are an irritant to the quid pro quo in a way nobody will outright honestly explain to him. rather than saving himself and his brother and the world like he thought he would at the end of it all, everywhere he looks is just another form of loss. ls!boys would lap up his es brother, the eager (and adorably naive) hunter with ideas and brawn and something to prove, so much of the same flowing through the blood of all 3 of them, but imagine the grief es!sam feels walking through the cold echoing hallways of the bunker, everything just a nauseating maelstrom of weapons and lore books and charts, no john, no mary, no jess, no wives and no children, no living friends, no presence or interest in the world he always dreamed to blend into, and nobody at his side to truly understand or feel that grief with him. and on top of that the things he feels about dean, complex and ugly and heavy to hold, have somehow been tugged out of him into the open in the future and locked behind a door he has no key to and even touching the knob burns his hand - the derision/amusement of the ls!bros even if they don’t intend it as such, the constant knowing smiles like he isn’t THEM like they don’t know how it feels and how much it suffocates him ohhhh man look what you’ve done to my poor heart with these snippets

YES!!!! ANON!!! YOU GET IT!!!!

first off, your writing is gorgeous?? holy shit?? eating all of your words they are in my mouth now i am sorry

but YES

he would def feel like the odd man out (depending on the season ES!Sam is from) because the other three love the life. they find joy and purpose and meaning in the hunt in a way sam lost. the hunt is a tool. a means to an end.

i think it wouldn't take long for LS!Sam to see the bunker, with the dozens of empty rooms--the shell of a home, only echoes and blades and the collected sum total of knowledge of people long-dead--and ask the group, "is this fucking it?"

no one knows what he's talking about (ES!Dean is so excited because he gets a kickass bunker AND a garage AND an armory AND sammy forever??), but sam is shaking because there are shirts folded in some of the empty rooms' dressers. dead men who thought they'd come back, a physical reminder of every goddamn person they've lost in the endless quest for vengeance. everything sam left for.

"is this all i fucking get?" ES!Sam snaps. "an underground crypt? no wife. no kids. no job. no fucking friends? did the hunt really fucking bury us?"

and everyone goes deadly fucking silent. LS!Dean has to leave the room because it's everything he'd always feared LS!Sam thinks. sam has always needed others more than dean does (or at least, that's what dean thinks, we literally see contradictory evidence in the show but okay). LS!Dean's afraid that sam has always resented him for the way their lives ended up, for dragging sam down with him.

and ES!Dean is crushed because this is his dream. he gets to save lives. he gets to carry dad's legacy. he gets to keep sam, all the unnecessary fluff--a mission to keep them together, girls, obligations--removed. and sam is disgusted by it.

LS!Sam just stares at ES!Sam blankly. he's annoyed with him, before something smaller, something pitying, slips into the shape of his mouth. he gets up to follow LS!Dean, leaving ES!Sam to wallow in his own sick. in this moment, Sam can't even empathize with himself.

and ES!Sam is sitting in the blast radius of his own fury. no one will look him in the eye. LS!Dean looks sick before he leaves the table. no one will answer his questions. no one even tries.

LS!Sam keeps trying to say, "this is what i want, sam. i don't mind. i love what i do, and i love doing it with dean." and all sam can hear is i gave up. i couldn't get out. i'm coping. don't destroy this glass house with a hammer because it's the only home i have left.

and ES!Sam still aches. because ES!Dean is already choosing another sam. LS!Dean looks at him like he has the power to kill him. LS!Sam looks at him like he pities him, which is the deepest cut of all.

poor sam. poor sam who doesn't want to die for this. poor sam who doesn't get us, who isn't us.

LS!Dean, ironically enough, is the closest ES!Sam gets to compassion, but it always feels like blows directed at himself. yeah. it sucks, kid. it fucking blows. i wanted you to get a wife. to get out. i...i tried. i'm sorry. it's more self-recrimination than care.

but GOD! ES!Sam goes for a run and sprints until he throws up because he sees the packed strength of LS!Dean's arms, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. he sees the easy way LS!Sam&Dean laugh with each other, the way they talk with looks alone, the naked adoration. he sees ES!Dean and aches and aches and aches and aches and aches. he needs something he doesn't have the words for, something he's terrified to name, because does that mean that he's giving up? does that mean that he's the fucked up one--perverting this easy life that they all clearly adore?

and even the joy he finds--talking with LS!Dean in the kitchen, sparring with ES!Dean in the gym, enthusing with LS!Sam over texts--there are moments. small ones. where sam realizes that the person talking to him kind of stops, content. he's already part of this system, of this unit. sometimes the pauses feel patronizing. or excited. or so full of tension that sam is already hardening in his jeans. or sad. and it's confusing, but sam is walking down the empty hallways, passing rooms of dead men and seeking out his brother, always his brother, always.

GRAH!!! lonely ES!Sam. bitter ES!Sam. joyful ES!Sam. jealous ES!Sam. possessive ES!Sam. ES!Sam choking on the things he doesn't understand--the things he can't--that have made their lives the way they are.

thank you for this ask, anon! it was beautifully written! and now i am also thinking about this! perpetual motion machine of devouring ES!Sam whole!

-lizzy

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Twenty

( Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader )

UNIFORM / TITJOB / THIGHFUCKING

Summary: Francisco receives an early morning phone call.

Day Twenty of @absurdthirst's Kinktober

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, dry humping, thigh fucking, slightly Dom!Frankie but not for long, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please), no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.1k

You were pretty sure your little apartment was falling apart on you.

A tile came of the wall whilst you were having a meditative soak after a long day, a handle came clean off a kitchen draw without reason, then came the day when the internet went down and the electrics blew.

Being in a relationship with the boys and staying round theirs meant you had an excuse to escape whatever the hell was going on here.

Frankie had no fucking idea what time it was when you called him, he just knew it was goddamn early.

“Aaaah, Frankie, help me, there’s water all over my kitchen floor and I dunno what to do!”

You didn’t breath when you spoke, your tone too high pitched for being woken to.

He yawned, “Have you tried turning the water off?”

“What? Where do I even do that? Oh my god!”

He patiently guided you through what to do, listening as your feet splashed through the water and as you struggled to shut it off but you did it. Then he dragged his ass out of bed and got over to yours.

Your appearance was disheveled when you opened the door, sweatpants and a t-shirt thrown on, eyes still sleepy. He didn’t say anything about it, he simply walked in and delivered a warm embrace, kissing you on the crown of your head. Your muscles relaxed as you smiled against his chest.

“Let me take a look.”

The kitchen was obviously a mess.

After you spoke to him on the phone, you’d tried your best to mop up with what you had and that was mostly towels. You’d managed to get an answer from one of your neighbours who had a mop and bucket and ladened you with more towels but there was a surface water.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He hummed, “Not too bad.”

The pair of you stared at it a little longer.

“We’ll clean it as best we can then I’ll see what’s going on.”

You nod enthusiastically but it’s fleeting.

The cleaning is a lengthly process. You traipse back and forth to the bathroom to ring out the water clad towels and bring them to the kitchen over and over again. Frankie tries to help by draining them into the bucket and throwing it into the tub for it to go down the drain, at least the bathroom doesn’t have the same piping problem.

It took an hour, maybe more.

“Do you want a coffee before you start that? I can pop out and get us one.”

He was already on his back underneath the sink, tool bag to one side, hips balanced on top of a cushion.

“I’m good.”

You’re crouched down, elbows resting on your knees to hold your head up, you lips skew.

“Is there anything I can do, babe?”

“No, querida.”

It was best for him if you stayed out of the way, he realised he probably sounded annoyed with you so he brings his chin to his chest.

You look at him doe eyed.

“You can go and relax,” his tone was softer, “this should be easy.”

You spent the next half hour sat on the sofa aimlessly watching morning programmes and scrolling through your phone.

It clearly wasn’t an easy job.

You’d set the television volume low just incase he needed you. All you could hear faintly underneath the pointless conversations was him. His grunts and huffs, his mumblings in his second language as well as how he smacked whatever tool he was using with the bottom of his palm.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t turning you on.

Should you be turned on by this?

You shook your head and tried your best to focus on the screen yet he was proving too distracting. Closing your eyes, you can see him so clearly, brows knotted as his curls start to cling to his head, the confining space hot. His tongue rolling into his plump bottom lip as he prays the next thing he does works, how he speaks through gritted teeth when it doesn’t. His broad hand on the tool, knuckles going white as he tightens his grip.

Your belly fills with desire.

Fluttering your eyes open, you bring your knees to your chest. It doesn’t help, only making you squirm as your juices dampen your folds, you need him. You pull of your sweatpants, keeping on your baggy t-shirt that you assume is from one of them and tiptoe towards the kitchen in your socked feet.

Not that he notices you anyway, to focused on what he’s doing.

You approach him, glancing down at his splayed legs, one bent at the knee and the other straight. Cocking your head to one side, he’s still working under the sink as you put one foot in the middle gap, your back facing towards him. You sink to your knees and push them closer to his thigh.

“What are you doing?”

He freezes momentarily.

“Nothing.”

He scoffs, “It doesn’t feel like nothing.”

You sit deeper, your wet pussy touching the roughness of his pants.

“Just entertaining myself.”

He went to look at you but was only greeted by your bare ass on his thigh, t-shirt bundle up so he could definitely see.

“Fine,” he carries on with what he was doing.

And you continue with what you were planning.

Brushing your hips up his leg, you felt the pull on your folds before pulling back. You sigh as the fabric catches your clit at a sluggish pace, the smallest of shivers going up your spine. Taking it slow, you stroke the same patch of his pants over and over. There’s a warmth building between your thighs grasp him tighter.

Frankie’s concentration was weaning before you entered the room.

He was certain he’d attacked this pipe at all angles, he’d taken it off and inspected it, everything looked fine. He’d twisted it in every direction yet each time he turned the water on, something was leaking. He should just admit defeat but then that was the other thing.

A stupid part of him was too proud to confess he couldn’t fix this.

You called him, you knew he was a dab hand at this shit and your immediate thought when you saw a leak was to phone him. His ego wanted him to be the hero, to save the day even though it wasn’t expected.

Now you were fucking his leg without a care in the world.

He could never remember your grunts and mewls sounded so sweet, so desperate as his pants became damp with your juices. You were boiling hot, constricting the muscle of his thigh like you do his face when he goes down on you. He peeked and watched as you thrusted forward, clenching your ass as you squeezed your cunt to stop your desire overtaking you.

His crotch grew tense.

You gave a choked cry as he notched his leg up.

“Frankie.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you quickened the pace, rutting your clit hard against the ridge of the bone. Your toes were beginning to curl, your pleasure escaping as staggered giggles as your legs began to vibrate. Tossing aside his tool, he leant forward and coiled his thumbs over the countertop.

His darkening eyes bored into the back of your head and you felt the hairs stand on end.

Your hips slip but his right hand comes to your ass.

“Keep going,” he says, lifting his leg a little higher.

The fabric catches your clit, the bundle of nerves protesting at the limb pressed against it.

“I can’t.”

“I’ll help you.”

He pushes your lower half and you drag up his leg, whimpering as the sensation ignites deep in your belly. Letting you go, he catches you as you slide down and repeats the motion until your moving on your own.

Your hands claw at his leg as your inner walls clench around nothing, the heat travelling up your spine. Your head falls back, mouth shaping into an o as your eyes screw shut.

“Oh, fuck.”

You thrust a final time, forcing your clit to his leg and holding as the tingling spread over your pelvic. Your upper body shuddered before you collapsed into his lap, cheek resting against his knee as you breath the air back into your lungs.

He lets you have a moment until he can’t wait any longer.

“Sit up.”

His voice was low, followed by the sound of his buckle undoing.

Still shaking from the aftershocks, you climb off him and turn onto your side, your ass meeting the cold tiles. He lifted himself onto his knees, he opened his button and zipper before pulling out his hardened cock, pumping it in his fist.

Taking your ankles, he dragged you closer, your skin chafing over the tiled floor. He spread your legs wide, hooking your feet over his hips as he lined himself up. He brought his lips heavily to yours, guiding your back to the ground, jutting his chin into yours so you allow his tongue to enter. It ran along the backs of your teeth before dancing with yours, the tip of his cock teasing at your folds.

Placing his hands on your hips, he thrusts into your slick opening, swallowing your moan in his mouth.

He rocks his hips gently for a few strokes before plunging into you hard and fast.

You rip your lips from him as you gasp for air, head falling to the side. His fingers and thumb come to your jaw, squeezing firmly as he brings his mouth to your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you squeak, his movements forcing your bones into the hard surface.

“You know you could have just asked.”

“You seemed a little preoccupied.”

He laughed, head dropping into the crook of your neck.

His breath danced hot over your chest, the lights of the kitchen so bright you find yourself closing your eyes. You didn’t have a comedown, you were still riding on sex fuelled ecstasy as Frankie propelled through your fluttering folds.

His shoes were slipping as they failed to grip onto the drying tiles, the wet patch of your juices sticking to his leg but you were overwhelming his senses. 

The noises from your chest as his length touched that soft spot, the smell of your perfume on the pulse points of your neck seeping into his nostrils. The handfuls of your flesh, your meat he was taking as he tried to keep your hips steady. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your back arching, body rippling as his motions run through you.

His thrusts were getting sloppy.

“Frankie,” you whined in his ear, your fingers entwining in his curls.

“I’m so close, querida, just a little longer.”

Your body was going rigid, your walls contracting around his cock.

At this rate, he really wasn’t going to last much longer, the pull against his length taking him over the edge. He took a couple more thrusts before he shattered, a hoarse groan muffled as he shoved his face into your neck, filling you with his seed.

The pair of you heaved, Frankie drawing out of you to rest against the cold floor.

There’s a minute or two where all you can hear is your breaths and then the world gradually came back to you, the mess of the kitchen you both lay in.

“I can’t fix whatever,” he waved a hand haplessly, “this is.”

You smile weakly, “That’s ok. I guess I’ll call a plumber.”

“I know a guy.”

Once you’d both caught your breath and got up from the tiles, he went and made a call whilst you staggered back to the living room, pulling your sweatpants back on for warmth. You make yourself comfortable but luckily for you, he wasn’t gone for long.

“He’s gonna be an hour or so.”

“Really?”

He nods, falling to the sofa next you, scooping up your legs to drape over his lap.

“Fancy that coffee now?”

You run your fingers through his hair and he leans into your touch.

“You’re going out after that?”

You scoff, “God no, I’ll get it delivered to the building entrance.”

Your fingers still played with his curls even though your attention was now on the screen, he trusted you’d order some food too. Then another thought slipped to his mind.

“Who’s week is it?”

“Will’s,” you say with a woeful expression on your face. “He had to go somewhere for work, he’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Frankie looked around your apartment, it felt cold and small and, well, lonely.

“How about you come to my place tonight?”

Sure, he may not think he’s a hero but right there, right then, he saved the day.

[benkeibear]

☰ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

⧫ Character: Shinichiro

⧫ Reader: genderneutral | AFAB

⧫ WARNINGS: switch!Reader, mentions of breeding and using Tools as toys

⧫ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! (This is a repost from my old blog)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

ꕤ He tries

ꕤ He holds you close until you both have calmed down and maybe asks of you want to eat/ drink something

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ꕤ He loves his hands because He can fix things, especially bikes, with them…and play with you ;)

ꕤ on you He likes your eyes and your tummy

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

ꕤ in you, on you, doesn't matter for Shin

ꕤ Has a slight preference to see you swallow it?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

ꕤ is it a secret? He wants to bend you over a bike in the shop and give you a good time

ꕤ maybe even see you get off from the bike aka ride the seat

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

ꕤ Shin, dear Baby. He's been rejected so many times He didn't even get a chance to get experience

ꕤ he's very eager to learn though so please teach him everything you know

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ꕤ Plain old Missionary

ꕤ Likes how close He is to you then, very intimate

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

ꕤ he's a bit goofy? Takes things lightly if something doesn't go as planned and cracks a joke over it

ꕤ but overall he's serious about it, wanting to pleasure you really well

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

ꕤ carpet definitely matches the drapes.

ꕤ small black bush, not too long but he's too lazy to shave / keep it short

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

ꕤ would never admit it on front of his friends but he likes to make love to you

ꕤ very intimate, very sweet, holding you close, lots of eye contact

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

ꕤ Well, one has to take care of themselves when you have no one to do it for you

ꕤ but since He has you he barely does it anymore, only when you're not in the mood but he needs to release badly

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

ꕤ marking! He wants people to see that you belong to him so he marks you up, please leave some hickeys too, it boosts his ego

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

ꕤ If you're up for it, everywhere!

ꕤ Favorite places are the bedroom and his shop

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

ꕤ Praises. Just praise him on something and he’s eager to be a good boy for you

ꕤ showing your cleavage or wearing short skirts

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

ꕤ Share you

ꕤ He loves his friends but after 20 rejections he's quite possessive over you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

ꕤ receiving! Oh you could suck him off all day and He would never once complain

ꕤ He also likes to give, you just have to ask

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

ꕤ mostly he's sensual, hitting all right spots with deep strokes

ꕤ but sometimes when he's jealous he’s fast and rough

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

ꕤ LOVES THEM

ꕤ you guys have quickies everywhere all the time

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

ꕤ Since he’s not very experienced He would like to try out things he’s seen in certain videos

ꕤ also public, but he's too scared to get caught

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

ꕤ poor Baby sometimes cums just from pushing himself in you, so sensitive

ꕤ but he makes up for it, he can go for quite some rounds, liking the feeling of being overstimulated

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

ꕤ He does own a fleshlight He used to get himself off with but he doesn’t use it anymore because why would He, if He can sink himself into your warmth instead

ꕤ would buy toys for you if you're into that

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

ꕤ He says He wants to tease you, edge you even but just give him puppy eyes and beg him once and He just has to give in

ꕤ He won’t stop you from teasing him though but don’t do it in public / in front of his friends please He doesn't like that at all

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

ꕤ holds back the cutest moans and groans but once He got comfortable He tries to talk dirty

ꕤ he's horrible at it but you don't have the heart to tell him

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

ꕤ He would like to use tools from his shop to please you (ofc He would clean them / make sure they're safe to use)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

ꕤ ughhh big, big, big!

ꕤ nice 8,5 inch, not coke can girthy but almost and the cutest raging pink tip

ꕤ He could kill you with it and you would thank him

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

ꕤ I hope you're prepared to take him daily

ꕤ He gets super moody if He didn’t get at least one orgasm a day? If you don't want to he takes care of himself (he’s v respectful)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

ꕤ when he cums his last time for the day he's out like a light

ꕤ would like to engage in aftercare but sometimes He just needs 5 seconds to catch a breath and He deadass falls asleep