#suz writes

[sansbanshees]

Six Sentence Sunday

Untitled hellcheer WIP

Not smutty exactly but under the read more for smut adjacent reasons

God, the noise he made—

She can’t stop thinking about it. Hearing it. Replaying it again and again.

Another shiver rolls down from the back of her neck.

She has to stop. She’s going to end up dragging him back to his van and then they’ll never get what they came here for.

She lets out a slow, shaky breath and turns to press her face into his shoulder. The ends of his hair tickle her cheek. He smells like smoke and worn leather. Like sweat, a remnant of the crowded club they’d been at not an hour ago. Still a little like the soap from their shared shower this morning.

“Can you show me?” Chrissy asks quietly, pulling away from the relative safety of his shoulder to look up. “The stuff you—what you’ve been here for before?”

He gives her an indulgent little grin, dimpled and affectionate. The one that never fails to make her heart beat a little faster. “Like the weird stuff or the regular stuff?”

“Um. Regular.” She squeezes her eyes shut, scrunches her nose with a shaky little laugh. “Just, um…let me adjust.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulder. “Come on.”

His hand comes up along the edge of her face to shield her peripheral view as they walk. It’s weirdly sweet, very him to do something like that in a sex shop, just another moment that brings about a rush of affection, gratitude that he knows her so well, that she’ll get there in her own time.

She wants to be here. Wants what they came for. It’s just—a lot to take in, all at once.

[bitch-ass-aliens]

WIP Amensty: Untitled Echo Alien Sex

[I’m never going to finish this but I do love what I’ve written so here you go]

“No, no.” 

Max freezes, though she could see how much the effort costs him by the way his muscles tighten. “Are you ok? Did I hurt–”

“No,” she assures him, “no, like this.” She pulls away from him with a groan, her body protesting even the brief loss of contact as she flips onto her stomach. But Max’s hands are already back on her, cupping her hips as she pushes up onto her hands and knees. “Like this,” she says again, and then he’s back in her with a deep thrust that fills her entirely. It’s good, it’s so good. She’s so full and also surrounding him, clenching heat. Max fully inside her–inside her body, inside her mind, inside her heart. 

He starts up a steady pace, and Liz fists the sheets, bracing herself against the power of them. He’s swelling, or she’s tightening, or both, impossible to separate out the sensations flowing from him to her. She closes her eyes and glimpses herself from behind, a smug thrill racing through her as she catches flashes of the way his big hands frame her hips, the way her ass looks as he thrusts in and out of her clenching body. Even without the psychic connection she knows he likes this position. 

She does too. He feels impossibly deep within her, every thrust jolting her body, his fingers biting into her, holding her still and steady. She moans, lost in the sensation. It’s a long moment before Liz remembers she had a goal, and looks down. 

She hadn’t been imagining it. In the shadows created by her body, she can clearly see a translucent glow from within, a muted match for the handprint on her chest, but moving beneath the skin, moving in time with Max’s thrusts. 

“Max.” She says, staring.  “Max. I can see you. Fuck, I can see you inside me.”

[alecisagayicon]

I should never have been given power over what nicknames Julian uses, but hey, here we are

[sansbanshees]

WIP Wednesday

I have like a hundred hellcheer WIPs, but uh here’s a lengthy snippet from an as yet untitled and unpublished meet cute at Starcourt. No Chrissy in this bit, just Eddie suffering in a Sam Goody before he runs into her.

————————

How does anyone find anything in here? The place is a goddamn labyrinth and it takes him forever to find the Sam Goody crammed in between a bookstore and some place that sells luggage.

In and out, he reminds himself, but the regret he feels walking into the store makes him want to walk right back out, album be damned.

There are Madonna posters everywhere. Fucking Falco is playing over the speakers, Jesus Christ, kill him now. The whole place is full of teased hair, leg warmers and polos, and it reeks of Aqua-Net. There’s a snicker off to his right as he browses, and he’s pretty sure it’s directed at him. It’s like the worst parts of high school rolled through the idea of a record store and ripped its soul out to leave a wad of bubblegum in its place. Unfortunately for him, though, the tip from his buddy was spot on.

There, tucked away in the rock section, are precisely four copies of exactly what he’s looking for. What he couldn’t find downtown.

Rock. Rock. As if it could be distilled down to the blandest description. As if this music has anything in common with fucking John Cougar Mellencamp, also categorized under rock.

This place is the goddamn worst.

He pulls one tape out from the stack because he didn’t come all this way to leave empty handed but then he grabs the other three and yanks them out too, because he can’t stand the thought of leaving them behind in this hell scape.

It’s fine. He’ll have one for home, one for the van. The other two—he’ll leave those on the counter at the record shop downtown, his treat, because he’s not an asshole that takes the last goddamn copy, unlike some people.

It doesn’t count if he takes the last one from here.

He swings them back and forth by the long plastic traps they’re contained in as he makes his way to the counter, plunks them down once he gets there and greets the cashier with a grin.

“Hi.”

The cashier arches a thin brow as she looks at what he’s put down in front of her.

“These are all the same,” she says, as if he is somehow unaware.

Eddie nods. “Yep.”

“You want four of the same album?”

“Well, yeah. This is a rescue mission. Leave no man behind in enemy territory.”

That earns him a snort of amusement. She’s older, hair going a little silvery, heavy-ish eyeliner. She seems cool, which he didn’t think he’d be able to say of anyone that works here. A little familiar, too. He’s pretty sure he knows her from somewhere. A quick glance down at her name tag tells him her name is Maggie, which is nice to know, but doesn’t really help him place her.

“They any good?” she asks.

“I dunno, Maggie,” he says, “but I’m gonna find out at least four times.”

She picks up one of the tapes once they’re free of the rigid plastic chastity belts. “Megadeth? Sounds like something my kid would like.”

“What, really?” He leans in, interest piqued. “Who’s your kid?”

The question seems to take her by surprise, and it wouldn’t surprise him to find that actual conversation isn’t really a thing here at Sam Goody.

“Kyle. Kyle Trahern. He’s a few years older than you, by the looks of you.”

“Must be…name doesn’t ring a bell. He has good taste, though.” Eddie grins. “Gets it from his mom, I’ll bet.”

She rolls her eyes. “God, no, I can’t stand it. Kyle moved out a few years back and I thought, Jesus, finally, peace and quiet. But no. Can’t even get away from this crap at The Hideout.”

Eddie staggers back, pressing a hand to his chest to staunch the blood flow. Point fucking blank, that shot.

“Ouch.”

He knew he’d seen her somewhere before, though. Should have guessed that was it. It was either that or she’s someone his uncle snuck in for a few hours, hoping Eddie wouldn’t notice—a rarity, to be sure, but it happens now and then.

She smirks. “You kids are alright when you play the good stuff.”

“Free Bird, right?” He pulls out his wallet when she finishes ringing him up, lays a few crumpled twenties on the counter. “Everyone loves Free Bird.”

“Free Bird,” she agrees, counting back his change and handing it over. “Bad Moon Rising. You know, real music, not that noise you just bought four copies of.”

“Maggie, those are fightin’ words.” He snatches his bag with an exaggerated huff. “Don’t make me get myself kicked out of the mall. What if they don’t let me come back?”

She snorts. “Kid, there’s four people behind you, waiting to pay. Don’t worry about security, I’m kicking you out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. One sec.” He digs into the bag, pulls out one of the tapes and slaps it down on the counter. “For Kyle.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it.” She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. The thanks is an understanding he just picks up on, it doesn’t need to be said. “Now, go on. Go bother someone else.”

“I’m gonna learn something from this album and play it just for you at the next show,” Eddie informs her, holding up his bag as he backs out of the store. “Just wait. You’re gonna love it.”

“You do that, kid.” She waves him off. “I’ll bring my earplugs.”

[sansbanshees]

WIP Wednesday Game

Rules: Write the latest line from your wip and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

Tagged by @erythromanc3r (thanks so much! 💚)

From a still untitled hellcheer WIP.

“Oh. My god. Christine. Were you just checking me out this whole time?” he asks. “In the adult store?”

That is too many words to tag the same number of folks so ummmm @chrissy-n-eddie, @notquitecogent, @hangon-silvergirl and anyone else that wants to do this if you haven’t already (and only if you feel like it, of course!)

[sansbanshees]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: American Gods (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney, Laura Moon/Shadow Moon (mentioned) - Relationship Characters: Laura Moon, Mad Sweeney (American Gods) Additional Tags: spoilers for season 2 episode 5, laura you are such a goddamn mess, Body Horror, but that's pretty typical for laura isn't it, emotional tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, tiny bit of pining if you squint Summary:

Maybe they’re more alike than she thought. Maybe they both want things they’ll never have. And he won’t get his, not ever, she’s far too selfish to give it to him now that her every hope has been dashed to fucking pieces.

(immediately following ep 2x05)

[sansbanshees]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Lavellan/Varric Tethras Characters: Female Lavellan, Varric Tethras Summary:

Affection crops up in the unlikeliest of places.

[sansbanshees]

WIP Wednesday (Friday) Breath

Hey so I’m the actual worst and am just now picking through my inbox (I’m so sorry) but I totally have something for this and I’m very glad that you asked!

He was afraid. A trained Knight with a sword at his hip and he stank of fear, radiated it in waves that might have offended her if it wasn’t so pitiful. She nearly leaned forward just to see what he would do when he felt the heat of her breath too near to his neck.