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Eddie is generally pretty good about ignoring the office chatter while he’s working, but today it’s a little more difficult. He’s not sure if it’s because they’re talking louder, there’s more of them gathered, or because the topic is Venom. Specifically, Venom’s tongue. Specifically specifically, what Venom can do with his tongue.

“I mean,” one of the girls says, in a not-so-hushed whisper, “you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I have,” another agrees. “Look at how long it is. Just imagine that all up in your—“

“Jazz!” the first one squeals, and there’s a chorus of vaguely embarrassed laughter.

This is why I work from home, Eddie thinks, trying his hardest not to blush.

But home is boring. This is fun.

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters, reaching for his headphones.

No. I want to listen.

“I am not listening to this,” Eddie hisses.

Venom takes over his body and forces his hand back to the keyboard. Shush.

“Imagining that pinning you down,” Jazz says. “Like this video, here.” There’s a pause, and then a sound of crashing cars and tinny screaming, accompanied by Venom’s distinct roar. “Look. That’s like, top-tier BDSM fantasy right there.”

“It even tore that guy’s shirt off,” one of the girls breathes. “Goddamn. Makes me want to rob a bank or something so it’ll come after me.”

“You should see some of the porn,” Jazz says. “Check out these drawings. People are fucking talented.”

I wanna see.

“We are not looking,” Eddie says, pointedly staring at the words in front of him. “I need to get this article done, that was the whole point of coming in today.”

But they’re talking about me. Venom turns their head, looking over at the huddle of girls. Eddie grits his teeth and forces it back to the computer.

“Anita, look. There’s a whole website,” one of the girls says. “There’s literally an entire freaking section of the internet dedicated to Venom porn.”

“Oh my god.There’s a little shuffling noise, and then Anita laughs. “This is so not appropriate for the office.”

Exactly, Eddie thinks, so please stop talking about it.

Except then it gets worse, because Jazz looks up and they meet eyes. She must see something amusing, because she starts laughing. “Oh, Eddie. Are we making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” he lies. “I’m not even listening.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Jazz says. “Look how red his face is.”

The other girls laugh, and Eddie blushes harder. Goddamnit.

“You wanna see?” she says, holding up her phone.


“No, that’s okay.”

“Jazz,” Anita says. “Don’t harass him. Let him live his vanilla life.”

Eddie snorts at that, because he’s pretty sure that nightly sex with his alien symbiote is the dictionary-definition opposite of vanilla. Anita raises an eyebrow.

“Not vanilla?” she asks, and Venom shakes their head.

You asshole, Eddie thinks savagely at him. I’m gonna lock you in a test tube when we get home and eat all the chocolate cake while you watch.

I’d like to see you try, pussy.

“It’s not like actual porn,” Jazz says. “They’re just drawings.” She slides her phone across the desk to him. “They’re honestly really good.”

Venom reaches their hand out and they pick up the phone. The first drawing is of a blond guy pinned up against a wall, while a gooey black cloud restrains his limbs. A tongue is spilling from a moderately accurate image of Venom’s face and it licks up the guy’s bare stomach.

Interesting, Venom muses. I could do that to you.

Eddie suddenly gets an image of himself, naked and pinned against his apartment wall while Venom slides all over him. He shakes his head a little, trying to refute the image, but he can’t stop the little thrill of excitement that runs through him.

Their thumb scrolls to the next one. This one has a brown-haired guy, looking down at his body with an pleased expression. Another moderately accurate Venom is wrapped around the ankles, holding the legs apart, and black tendrils are creeping their way up the body. Eddie’s eyes are drawn to the guy’s cock, stiff and upright and wrapped in tentacles.

“Jesus,” he says, pretty sure his face is on fire. Partially from the embarrassment of looking at this stuff in his cubicle, but mostly because Venom is winding underneath his shirt with a air of excitement. Let’s do that. I want to do that. Let’s do that right now.

“Why are they all guys?” Eddie manages, scooting a little closer to his desk to hide his growing boner. Knock it off, Venom.

“Supposedly Venom has been seen with a guy,” Jazz says, snickering at his expression. “There’s a lot of speculation about it. No one’s been able to get confirmation, though.”

Maybe we should show them, Venom suggests, snaking his way down Eddie’s pants. Do you think they’d like it? We could pin you to the desk right here and have our wicked way with you. He projects another image of Eddie writhing on the desk, cock hard and aching while Venom’s tongue wraps around it in maddeningly slow movements.

Eddie clears his throat. “Interesting,” he says faintly, not sure if he’s talking to Venom or Jazz.

“Next one’s my favorite,” she says.

Unwillingly, Eddie scrolls to the next picture. His eyes widen. This one has another guy—short dark hair, scruffy stubble, wide eyes—on his knees, arms bound up behind him with black tentacles. He’s looking up at Venom with a semi-terrified expression. His mouth is open, and Venom’s tongue is sliding into it in a very possessive-looking and drooly kiss.

That one looks like you, Venom says unhelpfully, and Eddie makes a little noise in the back of his throat. I like it.

He gets control of his hand back and practically shoves the phone at Jazz. “Yeah,” he says. “You were right. Very imaginative.”

She laughs. “Not your kind of thing, huh?”

It’s definitely his kind of thing. He loves it.


We’re gonna do that when we get home. We might not even make it home. Maybe we just find an alley somewhere. Another image flashes over his eyes, this time of Eddie naked and face-first against a rough brick wall while Venom’s tongue probes into him. He clenches his fist under the table and forcibly bites back a moan.

“It’s fine,” he manages weakly. “Not really appropriate for the office, though.”

“Jazz,” Anita says, taking pity on him. “Stop harassing the poor boy. Look how red his face is.”

Jazz pats his head. “Sorry,” she says. “We’ll stop.”

Eddie gestures helplessly at his computer. “I just—I gotta get work—it’s fine, you guys can keep—I don’t mind—“ He stops and scrubs a hand over his face, wishing the floor would just swallow him whole. “It’s fine.”

The girls laugh, and Jazz rejoins their circle. He stares at the screen until his eyes burn, but he’s not seeing the words at all. He’s seeing himself, underneath Venom, restrained and gagged and squirming underneath his symbiote’s touch.

“Stop it,” he snarls under his breath, closing his eyes. But that just makes the images clearer.

Why? I like watching you squirm.



“Fucking parasite,” he growls, then jolts as Venom wraps around his cock. “Oh my god, V, not here, please, not here—“


“I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. Incredibly, 100% sorry.”

Say I can have all the cake.

“All of it,” Eddie promises, looking sideways at the girls. They’re not paying attention to him, thank god.

Admit that you want me to do those things to you.

“Of course I do,” he hisses, feeling another little thrill at the thought of being helpless under Venom’s touch. “But we are in an office, V. Now is not the time.”

Venom squeezes enough to make him whine a little, then retracts into his body. Hurry up, then, so we can go home.

Eddie looks at the girls again. They’re still crowded around Jazz’s phone. She bursts out laughing at one of them, and holds it up. “Eddie, you want to—“

“No,” he says, feeling his face burn again.

“Does it really bother you that much?” one of them asks. “It’s just drawings.”

“Don’t embarrass the poor man,” Anita says, and Eddie vaguely thinks he’d like to marry her. “He’s still innocent. Stop corrupting him with tentacle porn.”

If only they knew.

“Anita,” Eddie says, desperate to change the subject. “Would you mind reading this for me? I could use another set of eyes on it.”

“Sure,” she says, getting up. “Email it to me, I’ll do it now.”

With that, the group breaks up, everyone reluctantly heading back to work. Jazz tucks her phone back into her pocket and winks at Eddie. “Sorry, Vanilla Bean,” she says. “I’ll leave you out of it next time.”

Eddie wonders if it would be possible for him to just melt into the floor. “It’s fine,” he says again, resigning himself to the fact that his face is going to be red for eternity.

She pats his head again as she walks by. Venom growls a little bit at her touch. My Eddie. Mine.

“Shush,” Eddie mutters to him, and turns back to his computer screen.

The rest of the day passes slowly. Venom is decidedly unhelpful, flashing up more images at random moments that do nothing to help his boner situation. Eddie growls useless threats at him and clenches his fists under the desk.

The sun is low in the sky by the time Jazz stands up and stretches. “I’m going to get margaritas,” she announces to the office in general. “Anyone in?” The girls make approving noises and stand up, gathering their stuff. Jazz perches on the end of Eddie’s desk. “You wanna come with, Vanilla Bean?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I got…I got work to do,” he says. “You guys have fun.”

“Okay,” Jazz says with a knowing smile, getting up. “See you tomorrow!”

The instant the door closes behind them, Venom winds his way around Eddie’s arms. I thought you were done working.

“I am,” he says. “But I’m not sitting through another discussion about what you can do with your tongue.”

There’s a low chuckle in his ear, and the aforementioned tongue licks along Eddie’s chin. Agreed. Why would we talk about it, when I can just show you instead?

Eddie takes in a sharp breath. “Venom, we’re—“

Alone. No one else is in here.

“The door—“

A black tendril snakes out from him and flicks the lock, then pulls the shades down over it.

“The window,” Eddie protests weakly, because he’s running out of both willpower and excuses.

Leave it, Venom growls. Let’s give them more things to draw.

“Aw, fuck.” He pushes back from his desk and reaches for his shirt.

That’s the idea, Eddie, Venom says, chuckling darkly, putting him on his knees. Dark tendrils wind around his wrists, binding them behind his back, and Venom’s tongue slips into his open mouth. That’s the idea.