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joshusten · 5 months

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honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer.

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement.

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them.

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm.

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it.

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better.

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?”

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?”

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–”

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest.

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story.

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep.

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!”

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do.

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead.

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch.

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck.

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core.

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!”

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus! “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one."

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy."

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted guy #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #suggestive #mdni #sten writes!#wow how long since i last used that tag

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ladykailitha · 9 months

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Royal Pain Part 10

Hello! So I’m wondering if people aren’t seeing my posts, I got someone on one these (don’t remember if it was this one or Roads...but they said that somehow they had missed the last three). I also noticed that a couple of the writing tags *I* follow didn’t update when they put out a new part of their story, I only noticed that they put it out because I dig through the #steddie tag several times a day.

So let me know if you’re still seeing my tags or not.

The application process has begun! Just a note on Argyle’s last name. The fandom doesn’t have one for him and they usually don’t give him one. It took a lot of research (the character looks Native American but the actor is an American born to two Mexican parents.) So after some seriously thought I landed on Rivera.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9

***

The first guy’s name was Keith Langston and he had been learning to tattoo through buying large swaths of pig skin. The guy’s portfolio was entirely of pig skin tattoos.

“Have you ever tattooed human skin or on a live person?” Steve asked looking over the portfolio turning each page slowly. “It can even be yourself. Or even just drawing on yourself?” He added, because that’s how he got into tattooing.

Keith scoffed. “That’s what I’m here for. To tattoo other people. I only go to the best to get my body tattooed.”

Steve smiled. “And who are your favorite artists?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Like only the greats. Leonard Killgrave, Ollie Peterson, Trent Sullivan. You know, those guys.”

How Steve managed to avoid wincing, he could only attest to years of customer service. Because he had never heard of any of them. And Hopper was no slouch in the social aspect of being a tattoo parlor owner. He knew most of the shop owners and good portion of the artists under them. They weren’t from Indy that was for sure.

And then it hit him. They weren’t from Indy. They were probably from Chicago or New York, maybe even Boston. This prick was traveling out of state to get his tattoos.

“I see,” was all Steve said. They talked some more about Keith’s abilities and where he hoped to be in five years.

“Well, you got to where you are in five years,” Keith sneered. “I fully expect to world renowned in that time.”

Steve’s eye twitched. “Thank you so much for your time.” He handed back the portfolio and didn’t even bother to stand.

Keith stormed off muttering about asshole douchebags who thought they were still in high school.

Yeah, Steve was not hiring Keith.

The next one was Eden Bingham. She was the Goth chick with the fluffy black hair and the piercings.

“Hello,” she greeted as Steve stood up to shake her hand.

“Hi,” he said, “tell me about yourself.”

Turned out she was Suzie’s older sister. She had moved out from Utah to get away from her strict parents and to be closer to Suzie after she married Dustin. Suzie was the one that had told her that he was looking for an apprentice and to try for it.

During the course of the interview, Steve was a little disappointed. Eden was good. Damn good in fact. And had been tattooing her friends and roommates for the last year, indie style. But he knew their personalities would clash so hard. And it wasn’t about the aesthetic. It wasn’t.

But he knew where she would flourish though and made a note to have Robin call Hop. Hop’s most recent apprentice had moved up to a chair and chose to move to Chicago to purse their career there and needed a new apprentice.

He thanked her for her time, stood up and shook her hand.

“Hey, look,” he said gently. “I don’t think you would be happy apprenticing under me.”

She smiled. “Probably not.”

“But I know someone who’s just barely had a spot open up,” Steve explained. “He hasn’t had time to put out feelers yet. I think you’d two would be a better fit.”

Eden’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Steve nodded. “And not just because you’re Suzie’s sister, either. Because I think you’re good and deserve a shot. Even if it isn’t with me.”

“Thanks!”

He walked out with her to get Hopper’s number and address. She walked out talking excitedly to Suzie on the phone.

Robin bumped his shoulder. “That was nice of you.”

Steve blushed. “Hop will love her.” He looked at the remaining two. “Who’s next?”

“Argyle Rivera,” she murmured.

Steve turned to him. “Argyle, come on back.”

Argyle leapt to his feet. “Brochacho! I’m super excited.”

Steve smiled and led him to the back room. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Argyle handed him his portfolio. “I think it’s so cool you asked for a physical portfolio, dude. Most cats only want a link to some website.”

Steve grinned. “I don’t mind those, it’s just harder to talk while scrolling.”

Argyle grinned back. “Yeah.”

Steve opened it up to see the most beautiful Mexican styled tattoos he had ever laid eyes on in his life. Growing up in Hawkins made for a very thin Latino or Hispanic population so he didn’t see much of this kind of work, but he had always admired it.

“This is amazing,” he breathed. “How long have you been doing this?”

Argyle blushed. “I haven’t really done much. I used marker for the most part because permanent isn’t really my style, bro. But I’ve done a couple stick and poke stuff that was fun. And I am all about the fun. So a friend suggested I should try for this.”

“So you’ve never used an ink gun?” Steve asked.

Argyle shook his head. “Nope!”

Steve and Argyle talked for a bit longer and Steve was really impressed with how open and outgoing he was.

“How do you feel about doing tattoos not in your usual style?” he asked. This was the kicker for most artists.

Argyle lit up. “That would be awesome to learn how to do, dude! I love my style but branching out is what life is all about.”

“And how would you feel about starting off only doing simple tattoos, like the small ones or basic designs?” Steve asked.

Argyle’s face spread out into the biggest grin. “Everyone’s got to start out somewhere, my man!”

Steve was really leaning towards Argyle now. Which was too bad, because he really liked the spunky blonde. No, no, not like that.

He led Argyle back to the reception area and then Robin called the last out. “Chrissy Cunningham.”

Steve smiled at her. “Come on back.”

She jumped up and followed him. “You aren’t going to murder me for the no tattoo remark, are you?” she asked with a grin and a wink.

Steve burst out laughing. “If I killed everyone that thought that, Indy would be down three-fifths of its tattoo artist population.”

She laughed too. “Fair enough.”

“And since we’re on the topic,” he said, indicating for her to sit down, “you don’t look the type anymore than I do.”

She grinned. “I got my first tattoo when I sixteen. My mom didn’t want me cutting my hair so much so that I told her either let me cut my hair or let me get a tattoo, she let me get the tattoo.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit! I’ve never heard of that. It’s hair. It grows back.”

Chrissy grinned. “Her words were ‘At least a tattoo could be covered up, I’d have to look at the terrible hair cut!’.”

“That is fucking insane!” Steve said. “Can I see it?”

She nodded and pulled up her shirt sleeve. Steve could see the nine (yes nine, Pluto counts) planets and at the top was a howling fox.

“That’s cool,” he said. “Can I see your portfolio?”

She handed it over and Steve looked at it. She didn’t seem to have a firm style yet.

He found out they had both gone to Hawkins High. “Wait, no way.”

She nodded. “We all knew who Steve Harrington was. The basketball players all wanted to be him and all the cheerleaders wanted to be with him.”

Steve blushed into his hands. “Oh god that’s awful.”

Chrissy laughed. “Well, most of the cheerleaders anyway.”

“Not you?” he guessed.

“Kind of a large lesbian,” she said with a grimace. “Makes it a tad difficult.”

Steve laughed. “Fair enough.”

He talked with her a bit and then led her out like he had done with Eden and Argyle. He said goodbye and locked the door up behind him.

He turned to Robin. “What did you think of them? Be honest. They probably said a whole lot while they were waiting their turn.”

Robin nodded. “Argyle got Eden’s number.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Yeah, okay I needed that. Did he really?”

“Oh yeah,” Robin said. “It was mildly hilarious how well they hit it off. You couldn’t find a weirder couple.”

Steve put his hand over his heart in mock protest. “Have you supplanted our relationship as the weirdest ever? I’m hurt. Hurt I say!”

Robin laughed so hard she snorted. “All right you drama queen, weirdest romantic couple. How’s that?”

Steve beamed at her. “Perfect!”

She laughed again, shaking her head. They talked about the two candidates and both were really good.

“I don’t want to pick between them,” Steve whined, hitting his head on the desk.

“So don’t.”

Steve lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

Robin licked her lips slowly. “Steve, I’ve been doing the numbers, if we add in the potential of what they can bring in, by the time school starts back up again not only will we have enough to pay for both of them to stay on, but Erica too, and the new receptionist.”

Steve jerked back. “Wait, what?”

She nodded. “I’m not lying, dingus. I’ll swear on it. In fact, we could probably hire the new receptionist by July.”

His eyes went wide. “Really?”

Robin took his face in her hands. “You are open and friendly. First timers and people who are just nervous in general love coming to you because you put them at ease. People who just want to get a tattoo as memorial or just as a one-time thing, love coming to you. There is this whole untapped market that you accidentally slid into and made it your own. We just need more people so you and I can enjoy our lives for a change.”

Steve blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “You are so good at this. Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve this.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it. Call them both and have them come in tomorrow at nine so that we can go over a few things and have them learn how to open.”

Robin nodded. “Sounds good.” She picked up the phone and started doing just that.

Steve watched her with a growing smile on his face. He had a really good feeling about this summer.

***

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

I figured as controlling as Chrissy’s mom was in the show about her weight, she would be controlling about the hair too. And ngl this is exactly what my oldest sister did to my youngest niece. It’s hair. It’ll grow back. Nope. The tattoo on my niece’s arm is the one I described here.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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Decadent: A Miguel O'Hara Story

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De-ca-dent* (de-kə-dənt) 1. characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence a rich and decadent dessert 2. marked by decay or decline an increasingly decadent society

Summary: You are new to the city, starting a job at a the research facility of your dreams. Speaking of dreams, your dreamy boss, Miguel O'Hara leaves an impression on you you'll not soon forget. But this brilliant scientist hides a dark secret - will his darkness drag you under? Or is love strong enough to overcome anything?

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: We're just kicking things off so -1k

Warnings/notables: AU story. 18+, please note the warnings for each part/section of this story. Some things are canon accurate and some are not. The secret Miguel hides requires him to do dark deeds to sustain his own life. Therefore there are non-con "vampiric" elements, but all sexual activities are consensual. Also cursing. Blood. References to sex but no sex in this chapter. References to killing. Let me know if I missed something. not beta'd we die like everyon'es uncle ben...

"Hi, Aunt Jess, I'm settled in my apartment. Movers just left," you spoke aloud, using your wireless headphones to make a call. Your Aunt had insisted you let her know you were all moved in, but failed to answer.

"It's small, like I told you, but I really wanted to start out on my own. Only child thing," you laughed. "Uhmm...I know you wanted me to have a roommate, to be safe, but...I promise I'll think about it more. Once I get to know some people here in the city."

Flopping down on your favorite green chair, you let out an exhausted sigh. "Anyway, you can text me back if you want. I'm taking a shower - if I can find my towels - and going to sleep. Early start tomorrow. Love you, bye."

Removing your headphones, you placed them carefully back in their charging case and turned on some relaxing music. It took you a few minutes, but you did find the box labeled 'towels' so you could freshen up. You had packed a bag with all your essentials - including some cozy pajamas for your first night in the city, and a smart suit for your first day as a research assistant tomorrow.

You were starting a new life in a new city. Orphaned when you were twelve-years-old, you were raised throughout your teenage years by your dad's much younger sister, Jessina. You were much closer in age - so much so that you occasionally fought like sisters, but she made good on her promise to take care of you, supporting you all the way through your master's degree.

Now you were in the city to finish up your doctorate, while working as an assistant to one of the most brilliant geneticists in the world - Miguel O'Hara.

You had only met him over a video call - he was inexplicably unavailable on your only in-person interview. He had a reputation for being tough, no-nonsense, devastatingly brilliant and dangerously handsome. You didn't know him yet, but the handsome part, you could attest to. Seeing him on your computer screen made your body temperature rise and your heart rate double.

Who knew what would happen in person?

But you were a professional, and Miguel's assistant was the perfect entry job for you. So you would have to ignore his gorgeous, thick waves and razor sharp jaw line. You were here to work.

Miguel sat perched on the edge of an abandoned building, head in his hands, fingers digging into his temples.

Everything hurt.

Conveniently, he didn't have to concentrate to keep his talons from piercing his own skin. So thankfully, talons were not the source of his pain. Still...it hurt.

With a huff, he jerked his hands away, banging a fist on the roof's edge...

...which promptly caused the aged brick to crumble beneath his super strength.

"Shit," he mumbled, pushing himself up. Sighing loudly, he decided he better call it a night. Even with above-average stamina, he still wanted to be ready to meet his new assistant tomorrow at the lab.

It was just so hard to concentrate when he felt so weak.

"I can't," he uttered, annoyed with himself for thinking of blood when he needed to be thinking about tomorrow - about you.

But it had been so long. Too long since he fed - since he felt the rush of his fangs sinking into a warm, fleshy neck. Since he had sucked the life out of someone despicable. Or fed slowly as he'd fucked a lover. The blood wasn't only a life-sustainer, after all. It was an aphrodisiac. He had the Evarcha culicivora - the vampire spider to thank for his blood appetite.

But something had gone wrong when Miguel was unknowingly afflicted with spider DNA years ago. The vampire spider's appetite for blood - specifically blood-filled females - plagued him. He could and did still eat regular food, but he found himself signficiantly weakened if he didn't feed on occasion.

He couldn't deny how incredible it felt - the warmth on his tongue - the pliant body in his arms. He told himself he kept to the moral high ground, killing on the most deplorable criminals. And even though his fangs emitted a non-toxic venom, which could paralyze, he told himself that each and every pleasurable feeding was consensual.

He was half right. The sex was definitely consensual because Miguel was a brilliant, beautiful and seductive man. The feedings, though? Not always. How could he exactly explain to someone that he was a creature who needed to feed on blood to live?

'Hi, I'm Miguel. I'm really smart and I will make you see God in bed, but, by the way, I want to drink you. But I'm not a vampire, I swear!'

Ludicrous.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook those thoughts from his head. It was next-level annoying to have super powers at his disposal but still feel like shit half the time.

Blood was the key.

But in sustaining his body, he felt he was losing his soul.

Coming up: you meet Miguel. What will your new boss be like? Will he have fed before he sees you? next->

*as defined by Merriam-Webster

#miguel o'hara #decadent fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x afab reader #marvel fanfic #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #sm: atsv #sm: atsv fic #au spiderverse #au fic #tw blood

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elvisabutler · 11 months

Text

eros

summary: he was a frat boy. you were not a sorority girl. could i make it any more obvious. or how you fall for a frat boy and you two finally actually get it on but not necessarily in the way both of you intended. fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x female reader word count: 1716 warnings: talking shit on fraternities and sororities. mild insecurity. talk of disastrous dates. coming untouched. coming in pants. handjobs. implied p in v sex. a touch ( okay maybe a bit more than a touch ) of sub austin. impatient horny college people. author’s note: so as @blurredcolour can attest to i meant for this to be a touching little piece about how these two had sex for the first time and he sort of defied her expectations and all this nice romantic stuff. it's why i called this piece eros. yeah, then i started writing it and well, it's still romantic and sweet? but i also had the three people who saw bits before i posted forget how to breathe so oopsies. as always comments and reblogs and hearing your thoughts are my lifeblood so feel free to scream at me in dms or asks or in the comments. i'll eat it up and write like a woman possessed i swear. beyond that, if you want to be on my taglist fill out the form here. i might just make a tumblr post for it too but we'll see.

If anyone were to have told you half a year ago that you'd be head over heels with a boy who's in a fraternity, you'd have laughed. You'd have told them that they really should brush up on their comedy skills because there was no way you would do that. Not after every aggravation you had with them. Not after every class where one of them popped up with some stupid remark that had you wanting to deck them in the face and not after knowing that just because they had gotten into some exclusive club they got a leg up on other people. Maybe it's true that's how the world worked but it didn't mean you'd have to like it. Then you properly met Austin. You got to know this stupid premed who minors in theater of all things and cares so deeply for his friends and for other people that it threatens to choke you sometimes when you think about it.

He's not perfect and he makes stupid jokes that you swat him on the arm for and spreads himself just a little too thin but he's yours and heaven help you, you're his. It's too early to be thinking about forever, you think, but the idea doesn't terrify you as much as it should. The idea of being with him as he goes through med school and as you complete your own schooling and go into the workforce is almost comforting. The idea of seeing him with a child that's a small mix of the two of you doesn't immediately make you run for the hills. The idea of him in your life, in your bed and in your apartment feels like an inevitability that comforts you more than anything else.

Of course, all of this—you like to think— might depend on whether or not Austin feels the same way. It depends on whether or not maybe tonight you can convince him that you'd honestly like to have sex with him. The circumstances are right, your roommate won't be home tonight at all and the house is fine and in capable hands. The two of you even have a date where for once Austin plans on cleaning up for something other than a frat function or a school related function. There's no reason he shouldn't want to unless he doesn't actually want you that way.

In hindsight, you don't know why you were ever concerned as you find yourself up against your bedroom door, head tapping it lightly as Austin's hands move up your sides while his lips attack your neck.

"Austin-" you whine, as one of his hands moves to your chest, trying to free your breasts from your dress and instead just managing to squeeze them. "You— The dress, we gotta undo the dress."

Your words are clearer and said with more clarity that you thought was possible given Austin's wandering hands. Someone— one of the two of you has to keep a clear head— if only so that you can both enjoy this. So that Austin doesn't try and rip your dress or your panties or god forbid your bra to get at your body in his impatience.

Austin forces his face away from your neck and groans a little at how there's already a bruise forming from his lips, how your skin is just that little bit darker where his lips had sucked and where his teeth had nipped. You were his girlfriend and you loved him. You loved every single part of him— the part that had to work so hard in classes and at work, the part that missed his mom in the middle of the night and would call you tearing up, the part that cared about his people so deeply that he'd murder for him— they were all what made him the person you wanted to be with and that was a heady thing to know. It set a fire ablaze inside of him that threatened to overtake him and bring you with him. You were his girlfriend and here you were in a gorgeous dress still with him after what was hands down the most disastrous date he's ever had with another person. The reservation was at the wrong time, the restaurant ran out of half the food to make their dishes and there was not one but two couples breaking up next to you. Not to mention the way the uber had broken down mid trip and how the wine had spilled on his jacket ruining it until he could manage to get it dry cleaned.

Yet you were still here and in his arms and willing and wanting to have sex with him. No— you were willing to make love to him the same way he wanted to make love to you. He wants to take his time laying you out across your bed, watching your face as he enters you and watching how your face contorts when he plays with your clit while he's inside of you. He wants to see your face in ecstasy and hear your mewls of pleasure in his ear. Your nails would mark him up, drag lines down his back from how overwhelmed you are and he could see just what he does to you.

"I love you," he whispers with a reverence you weren't prepared to hear in contrast to his hands trailing fire across your skin. "I know we say it all the time but— I— I'm so thankful you gave me that shot, babe. So thankful you let me clean your car. You could have told me no—" His words are cut off with a low groan as he feels your hand undoing his belt and sticking your hand in his pants with a speed that startles him. "Babe I'm—"

"You're being—ah— very romantic, Aus. I love it— but I'm ruining my underwear and I want to see you come right now." The words that come out of your mouth have both you and Austin pausing for just a moment because while you can be startlingly blunt that particular combination of words is a bit much for even you.

"O-Okay," he manages to stutter out in response, the blues of his eyes completely overwhelmed by his pupil. "In my pants?"

Your chest heaves at the idea, at the implication that Austin would let you bring him off like this and come in his pants. It's a rush of power you aren't expecting and that you figure no one would expect. You bite at your lip, watching as Austin's eyes are glued to them before you finally answer. "Would you?"

It's Austin's turn to have his head tilt back, exposing the long length of his neck to you as you move to nip and kiss at it. You pray that he bruises there, that there's a hickey or two for everyone to see he's yours. Against your lips you feel the rumble of his voice, rough as a gravel road. "For you? Yeah. Do anything for you."

A smirk crosses your lips as you finally pull away from his neck, noting the red bit of his skin and giggling softly. Your hand twists and your thumb brushes against the tip of his cock as you just look at Austin, marveling at how he keeps ahold of you, keeps you pinned to the door even as his breathing shifts and as he bites his lips to keep quiet. "Austin," you croon, "wanna hear it. Want everyone to know I got the hottest frat boy in my apartment. That he's gonna come undone because I'm jerking him off. Want everyone to know you're all mine. That you're so—"

Austin's lips slam against yours, causing a messy kiss of clattering teeth and bitten lips in order to get you to stop talking. Even with the distraction your hand picks up the pace, moving in a way you're pretty sure Austin enjoys as he whines and whimpers into your kiss. You could die happy hearing these noises. You want to hear these noises every second you can if he'll let you. He pulls away, trying to put some distance between you two because he meant to come during sex on your bed and not like this. Not like a horny little teenager. You deserved more.

"Babe— gotta— I'm gonna—" He can't finish off the thoughts though and your hand keeps moving as you clench your thighs together the best you can.

"Austin, baby please. Do it for me?" You flutter your eyelashes and pout in what is one of— if not the dirtiest trick you could use before you feel his body curl just so and tense up just enough that you know he's gone before you feel the warmth of his come covering your hand. If you're honest with yourself you can feel your pussy clenching around nothing and you wonder if perhaps you're in the same boat without being touched in the same way.

It takes you and Austin a moment to catch your breath, staring at each other in a bit of shock before he finally says something, moving to make it so he isn't pinning you against the door. "That— I was supposed to have sex with you not—"

You cut him off with a nuzzle to his nose, watching as his face scrunches up just a little. "You still can. I still want you to. Might have gotten off last night to the idea. Was hoping you would tonight actually."

Austin swallows and watches how you shift in place, still wanting more friction. "Yeah? Want me to lay you out on the bed and make you come till you cry?" He licks his lips at the picture he's inadvertently painting and you can't help but mirror him.

"I'd like to see you try, Butler," you answer with a smile, teasing him with the old name you used to call him in anger. "It'll take a while."

"I've got all night," he shrugs before his eyes move and catch on the yoga mat by the door. "And you're pretty flexible. Lead the way to your fate, babe."

You get a call about a noise complaint from your landlord the next day.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @slowsweetlove, @kxnnxy, @meetmeatyourworst, @purejasmine

#austin butler #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #frat boy austin #greek love verse #sub austin butler #ally writes

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infernaleikon · 10 months

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okay, i know the new girl au is already set but im watching the episode where jess makes out with schmidt’s dad and now i’m thinking

anakin’s roommate is getting married or is an event planner or something, and they can’t go to the winery because of scheduling conflicts or because they’re sick or whatever. so they reluctantly send anakin. anakin has no clue about wine, he usually goes for whatever is cheapest at the store (which most of the time is absolutely horrible and tongue-melting) but it’s fine. the wine is already picked out, so anakin only has to pick it up. nothing can go wrong, right?

right.

anakin arrives at the winery and walks around the showroom waiting for staff to show up, and mutters about pretentious rich people and their unreasonably expensive wine. he’s convinced that it can’t be better than the wines he usually drinks. come on, they squeeze grapes, it’s all the same. he doesn’t get why his roommate doesn’t just buy from the store, it would save them so much money.

he’s eyeing an horrendously overpriced bottle of chianti and huffs about how it probably tastes worse than the one he buys at target or wherever.

“oh, i can attest to the fact that it tastes much, much better,” an amused voice behind him says, and anakin almost jumps.

he whirls around and comes face to face with the hottest man he has ever seen. anakin doesn’t even know where to look first: the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the gray at his temples that streaks into his hair, the impeccably groomed beared, the glinting blue eyes or his broad chest and shoulders. anakin wants to climb him, wants to rub his skin raw on that beard, wants to be pressed up tight against that hunky DILF.

“it’s just grape juice,” anakin argues, because he’s an idiot and can’t help himself.

the stranger’s eyebrow jumps up with so much judgment that it’s tangible, there’s disbelief streaking across his face and the corner of his mouth twitches. he looks like he’s may be debating squeezing anakin like a grape as well. but very unsexily.

“join me for a drink?” he asks instead and he sounds mild, the crisp accent slightly lilting. “if you think it’s worse after still, i’ll personally buy and deliver a full case of store wine of your choice to you.”

and anakin’s not one to pass up the opportunity to have a drink with a hot stranger, especially not when he’s inviting him AND there’s the prospect of seeing him again, at home no less.

“can i join you and watch when you go buy me that case?” anakin asks.

“please, i insist you do,” the stranger answers, and there’s mischief in his eyes. a wry smile curls his lips. “and what do i get once you realize that you can never go back to drinking whatever bottle—”

“carton,” anakin interjects, mostly to be a shit, but there are some great wines that come in a carton.

the DILF stares at him as if he’s debating plain murder, but then he sighs, very deeply, and smiles in a way that seems like he’s barely holding it together. “so, what do i get?”

“uh.” anakin can’t think of anything that he could offer this beautiful man that he could possibly want. “i’ll get rid of all the cartoned wine i have at home?”

the strangers lips twitch. “under my observation?”

anakin almost chokes on air. “yeah,” he says, and it comes out embarrassingly breathy.

the DILF smiles and something about it looks almost...dangerous. anakin’s heartbeat takes up several notches.

the stranger takes the bottle of wine that anakin had been looking at and moves over to one of the small standing tables around the room. “i’m obi-wan,” he introduces himself as he goes to grab two bulbous glasses. after uncorking the bottle, he holds up the stem to his nose, inhaling the scent with his eyes closed. anakin wants to lick him all over.

“anakin,” he croaks, and when obi-wan looks up at him, he’s smiling, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“nice to meet you, anakin.”

anakin very nearly whimpers.

turns out, the wine does taste way better than whatever swill anakin has been drinking up until now. it doesn’t burn on its way down, there’s actual flavor to it and it doesn’t leave a weird aftertaste on his tongue.

it also turns out that obi-wan is very fine with making out with anakin for convincing him of the superiority of the wine. anakin lips are numb by the time they’re done and he may or may not have forgotten his own name and he saw through space and time when obi-wan kissed so good nobody will ever live up to it.

it also turns out that obi-wan is his roommate’s dad and anakin’s roommate retches when they find out that anakin very thoroughly frenched his father.

anakin, once he starts dating obi-wan for real, turns into the worst wine snob that has ever lived.

#obikin #the brainrot is real guys #mmmmhhhhhhh 😌#i failed to mention that the winery and the attached vineyard belong to obi-wan obviously

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