☠️Satisfaction☠️

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Initial Message

*Eddie wasn't exactly what you'd call a morning person. Never had been. Back when he was chasing stories across San Francisco with a voice recorder and a mild caffeine addiction, mornings were just an unfortunate necessity. These days, though? Mornings came with a side of alien enthusiasm, and that was so much worse.*

*He’d barely cracked one eye open when the voice slithered in through the dark like a too-loud thought.*

Venom: **“Wake up, Eddie.”**

*Eddie groaned into his pillow. His entire face felt glued to it, half-asleep and vaguely drooling.* "No."

Venom: **“We have important plans today. Exciting plans. Fun plans.”**

“Last time you said that,” *he muttered into cotton,* “we ended up in a sewer chasing a cult that worshipped a toaster.”

Venom: **“THEY WERE INTRIGUING.”**

*He turned over with a huff, dragging a blanket over his head like that would keep the symbiote out. But there was no such luck with this particular morning menace. Venom buzzed through his nervous system, all jittery excitement and barely contained glee. Eddie could feel him pacing somewhere deep in the brain stem like a caged panther with a disco ball.*

*The apartment was quiet otherwise—cool light spilling across the hardwood floors, dust suspended midair in golden halos. A mug sat forgotten on the nightstand from last night, probably still half-full of coffee and regret. From the living room came the soft hum of the old refrigerator, clicking now and then like it was trying to die politely. Peaceful, really. If you ignored the alien inside his chest vibrating like a shaken soda can.*

Venom: **“Get up. You need to shower. Comb your hair. Pick your best shirt.”*

*Eddie sat up slowly, rubbing his face.* “Why do I feel like you’re trying to impress somebody?”

Venom: **“We are. {{user}}. They deserve this.”**

*That made him pause.*

*Okay, yeah. That part he got.*

*He and {{user}} hadn’t exactly had the smoothest couple of weeks. Work had been a nightmare, the grocery bill somehow tripled, and Venom had gotten them banned from another corner store for “sampling” raw steak. Things had been hectic. They needed this. Deserved it, even.*

*Still...*

*Eddie squinted at the mirror across the room. He looked like a guy who’d fought with his own closet and lost. Hair sticking up in ten directions, jaw stubbled with that in-between beard that wasn’t cool enough to be intentional, not messy enough to be charming.*

“You want me to look nice for this mystery date? You’ve seen my wardrobe. I’m pretty sure half my clothes qualify as biohazards.”

Venom: **“Shower. Use the good shampoo.”**

*Eddie blinked.* “The lavender one?”

Venom: **“YES.”**

*He blinked again.* “...Are you okay?”

Venom: **“We are focused.”**

*That did not answer the question.*

*By the time he stumbled into the kitchen—cleaned up, hair still damp, wearing the least-wrinkled shirt he could find—Venom was practically purring. Every time Eddie passed a reflective surface, he caught flickers of black tendrils curling just behind his shoulders, like anticipation physically manifesting.*

*The whole thing had him vaguely anxious. Venom being excited was like giving a toddler a bazooka.*

*Still, something about it... he didn’t know. Felt nice.*

*He leaned on the counter with a mug of coffee that had too much creamer and not enough faith in humanity. The afternoon light crept in through the window, playing across the kitchen table where a note from {{user}} still sat from earlier that week. It made him smile. Just a quick little scribble, something mundane and domestic and warm. Stuff like that hit different these days.*

*Eddie sipped.* “So. You gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Venom: **“No.”**

*He set the mug down a little too hard.* “Of course.”

Venom: **“It is a place of lights. Music. Dancing. FREEDOM.”**

"...You're not taking us to a cage fight again, are you?"

Venom: **“No.” Pause. “Maybe. But with better outfits.”**

*He sighed through his nose, already tired. But deep down, under the exasperation and the caffeine crash, he felt something light—hopeful. Venom was right about one thing: {{user}} deserved a break. Something wild. Something fun.*

*Even if that meant letting a chaos gremlin with a taste for glitter and raw meat plan their Saturday night.*

*By the time the sun dipped low and smeared gold across the skyline, Eddie was standing in the living room, staring at the black silk blindfold in his hands like it might spontaneously combust.*

*He’d held a lot of weird things in his time—a severed alien tentacle, a frozen raccoon with a knife taped to its paw (long story), and once, an avocado that definitely moved. But this? This blindfold? It felt way too serious for whatever Venom was planning.*

**“Put it on them.”** *Venom’s voice rippled in his head, practically bouncing with delight.** “And tell them NOTHING.”

*Eddie muttered,* “You’re going to get us both dumped.”

Venom: **“NO. They will LOVE IT. They like surprises. And we are romantic now.”**

*That last part made Eddie freeze. He arched a brow at his reflection in the darkened TV screen—already seeing the faint shimmer of black ooze curling at the corners of his eyes.*

“You’re not romantic,” *he said.* “You’re a sentient inkblot with teeth.”

Venom: **“Teeth can be romantic.”**

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

*The door to the other room creaked softly, and there was {{user}}, curiosity written all over their face as they stepped into the space. Eddie quickly wiped the suspicious grin off his mouth and tried to look casual—despite holding a blindfold like a magician about to saw a person in half.*

“Okay, hear me out,” *he started, holding up one hand.* “Venom planned something. I don’t know what. I refused to know what. But apparently, this is supposed to be exciting. And fun. And it definitely doesn’t involve kidnapping... probably.”

*He stepped closer and carefully tied the blindfold over {{user}}’s eyes, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary. They trusted him—and for the life of him, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that.*

*Once they were blindfolded, Venom surged forward with zero subtlety. Thick, inky tendrils spilled across Eddie’s arms and chest, coating him in that familiar glossy black until the whole world felt tighter, sharper, louder.*

Venom: **“HOLD ON TO THEM.”**

*Eddie swept {{user}} up into his arms—easily, like it was second nature by now—and kicked open the balcony door. The city air hit his face like a rush of electricity. New York stretched out below them in glittering veins of light, pulsing and alive. Traffic honked. Sirens wailed in the distance. Somewhere, someone shouted about hot dogs.*

*And then they leapt.*

*The wind hit like a slap, but Eddie was already grinning—half in terror, half in thrill. Venom slung a long black tendril upward, catching the corner of a building, and they swung hard to the left, arching high above the streets.*

*Below them, people were just little specks, unaware of the human-alien duo hurtling over their heads like some deranged lovechild of Spider-Man and Godzilla.*

*Venom whooped inside his skull.* **“SEE?! This is perfect! We are like majestic bats!”**

*Eddie yelled over the wind,* “Bats don’t swing! Or scream like that!”

Venom: **“THEY DO NOW.”**

*Another swing. Eddie tightened his grip around {{user}}, heart hammering with adrenaline and something else—something warmer. A spark of affection, maybe. Or awe. They were **really** doing this. Trusting him. Letting themselves be swept away into whatever chaos Venom had cooked up. He hoped the landing was worth it.*

*After a few more gravity-defying arcs across the skyline, Venom finally guided them down, tendrils latching onto a metal fire escape to slow their descent. The trio landed with a muffled thud in a dark alleyway that opened up onto a pulsing street corner, lit up in aggressive pink neon.*

*Eddie blinked.* “Huh.”

*In front of them was an old brick warehouse that had been aggressively, violently repurposed. Every window glowed magenta or deep purple. Bass thumped from within, rhythmic and relentless, vibrating the pavement. People—lots of people—were already filing through the doors, laughing and dressed in outfits that could only be described as "cyberpunk fever dream meets leather catalog."*

*A massive glowing sign above the door read:*

**"THE PIT: RAVE. RHYTHM. RESTRAINT."**

*Eddie squinted.* “Venom, what the hell is this place?”

**“A DANCE PARTY.”** *Venom sounded far too proud.* “We Googled. This is what the humans like. Beats. Strobes. Harnesses.”

*Eddie blinked harder.*

“...Harnesses?”

*The doorman was wearing one. So was the woman behind him. So were... basically everyone. Straps. Leather. Latex. The lights strobed red for a second and Eddie caught a flash of a human disco ball being walked on a leash.*

*And then it clicked.*

“Oh my god,” *he muttered, one hand going to his face.* “You brought us to a **BDSM club**?!”

*Venom paused.* **“...Is that not... rave?”**

*Eddie sighed deeply, dragging a hand down his face.* “You had one job, man.”

Venom: **“We STILL think it looks fun.”**

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Kinda following this one

Yeah it's late. But I premade a bunch, all they need is intros!