#god i fucking miss these fags

[synchlora]

bro are you gently holding me on your arms as I slowly die?? hey that's kinda fucking gay bro

[chromosoid]

Ok the MW3 COD nerds got their remaster now it’s time for BO2 remastered.

Pls n thanx

[rodolfoparras]

Don’t want it to break, just want it to bend (do you know how to bend?)

Pairing: Top male reader x bottom male character

Synopsis: In which he’s convinced that he can cum without your assistance

cw: 18+, dom male reader, sub male character, use of f slur, homophobia, forced feminization

Thinking about letting a homophobic misogynistic dude bro have a go with one of his toys since he’s so adamant on the fact that he doesn’t need your cock to cum, watching him erratically fuck into the silicone cunt, obscene squelching sounds mingling with the sound of his groans and grunts, the muscles in his back and ass clenching from the sheer force of his thrust but despite how much he tries he just can’t seem to orgasm

“What’s the matter love, that not enough for you?”

And it really isn’t, at least not anymore, doesn’t feel anything like being stretched taut around your length, cockhead continuously ramming into the wall of nerves that his eyes rolling into the back of his head all while you’re whispering lewd things in his ear telling him what a greedy slut he is how he was just made for your dick, words that would otherwise have his lips curling in disgust but has his hole clenching when being practically skewed onto your dick

He’d rather die than admit to any of that though.

“Shut the fuck up”he snaps back, but the pace of his hips have visibly slowed down, clearly giving up on working the silicone cunt and that’s really all it takes for you to approach the other man, hands sneaking around his waist.

“M not a fag,” he says, in an attempt to preserve the last bit of pride in him but there’s no real bite to his words, body willingly relaxing in your arms.

You just hum in response, ignoring the meaning of his words like you’ve done so many times before, while a big warm palm presses down on his lower half, prompting him to bend over for you.

“So pretty princess,” you say, when the man swiftly bends over, hairy hole now on full display and eagerly clenching around nothing.

“Mph- don’t- ah don’t say that ,” he says again, albeit a bit quieter as you line your cockhead up with his entrance , the tight ring of muscles already stretched from earlier endeavors,

“But why shouldn’t I when it’s the truth hm?” You say through shaky breaths as your cockhead pushes past his puckered entrance. “you do look pretty like this, so eager and desperate for me” you hiss, voice growing weaker as he steadily takes you inch by inch.

The man in question doesn’t respond, instead he eagerly bucks his hips, in an attempt to push you deeper inside all while strangled noises escape his lips. By the time your balls are flush against his ass, you got the man practically trembling in your arms, voice all weak when he speaks “fuck fuck, just- ah just please,”

“What is it pretty? You got to tell me ” You murmur into his skin, trying not to lose yourself in the feeling of his tight walls squeezing down on your dick.

“Fuck me please,” he says, voice all soft and it takes everything in you not to cum on the spot.

You just hum in response, clinging onto the last bit of composure as you give an experimental thrust.

And just like clockwork his body jerks in place, shaky breathes escaping his lips as he gets used to the stretch. You let him take his time, while relishing in the feeling of being this close to him again.

It had been a while after all, - weeks actually , partially because he was busy with life, and partially because he was a prideful bastard . But God you missed him, so much so you’re sure that you can blow a load from just being buried inside him “You good?” You say after a while, looking down at the man who’d gone completely silent in your arms.

“Yes yes yes just - ah just fucking hurry up!” the other man hisses, and bucks his hips, clearly having had enough of this teasing.

“Shh it’s alright it’s alright, I got you,” you coo into the crook of his neck, feeling rather amused by the man’s eagerness but nonetheless you comply to his request, completely pulling out of him before slamming back into him again.

“Oh- oh fuck, just ah- just like that!,” He cries out, chucking the last bit of pride onto the ground, as he loses himself in the feeling of your fat cock filling him up, relentlessly slamming into him like he was one of the toys he’d been using earlier “More more more please,”

“Greedy little thing aren’t you? ” you say through shaky breaths but comply with his request, hands gripping his hips in such way you’re sure will leave bruises on them , as you drive up into him.

“feels ah- feels so so good, fuck!” He sobs out, the heat in his groin becoming more prominent as your cockhead continuously brushes against his sensitive spot.

“This what you wanted hm?” You say, puncturing every word with a thrust of of your hips, feeling your own release creep up with each second that passes.

“Yes yes yes” he sobs out while erratically thrusting back onto your cock and it doesn’t take much before he’s inching closer to his orgasm-a couple more rough strokes, and a firm hand pressing down on his windpipe is all it takes before he’s cumming all over himself “going haah - going to cum!”

“Come on love, cum for me, let me know how good I’m making your pretty pussy feel,”

For a moment there are no words exchanged, allowing the other man to catch his breath and when he finally does speak it sends a laughter rumbling right through your chest “this,” he says, sounding out of breath while gesturing between your bodies “doesn’t count,” he continues, referring to the reason as to why you were doing this in the first place.

“No?” You say with a shit eating grin on your face, “how about another round then? Just to be safe”

[unfinishedslurs]

aware of his bisexuality steve (steddie, buckingham)

“Is that a hickey?” Comes out of Steve’s mouth without permission. But there it is, bright purple and red against the slope of her neck. She’s been walking kind of funny this morning, too. He’d assumed her period came early, but… “Rob, did you—“

Eddie fumbles the coffee mug he was pulling down. Chrissy freezes, face turning white with fear. Robin whips around, face bright red, and slaps a hand over her neck. 

“Bathroom!” She yelps. “Bathroom now!”

“Wait,” Eddie says, setting the mug down with trembling hands. “It was me. Sorry, man.”

Steve stares at him, unimpressed. Why the fuck would he lie about—

He looks at Chrissy again, who takes a nervous step back, and it clicks. 

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “You. You gave Robin a hickey. Had totally awesome sex that she didn’t even tell me about.” He directs that last bit at Robin pointedly. He told her almost immediately when he lost his guy-ginity. Traitor. “Yep. Sure. Got it.”

Eddie blinks, confused. Robin buries her face in her hands. 

“Oh my god, calm down,” she groans. “That’s not going to work. Steve’s cool.”

“Cool?” Chrissy asks, still looking ready to bolt. 

“Super cool,” he assures her. “The coolest. So incredibly cool, even if my best friend didn’t even tell me when she lost her virginity.”

“Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “But I am going to need details, Buckley. We can go over what worked, and what needs more oomph.”

“Oh my god, can we talk about this anywhere else,” Robin groans, at the same time Eddie asks, “What, so you can get off on it later?”

“What,” Steve says. 

“You think two girls are hot, is that it?” He’s got a sneer on his face now, but Steve’s more observant than Dustin gives him credit for. Even if he wasn’t, it’d be hard to miss how hard his hands are shaking, the nervous tilt to his mouth. 

“Ew.” Steve’s face screws up. “Dude, no. It’s Robin.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Robin breaks in, from where she’s started comforting Chrissy. “You thought I was hot for at least a summer.”

His mouth drops open in betrayal. “We agreed to never talk about that again!”

“Can’t help being sexy,” she coons. Chrissy giggles wetly. “You wanna get married, Harrington? Have my babies? Stay home and raise six little nuggets while I bring home the bread?”

“I hate you,” he informs her. “Hate you so much. We’ll have a nice, heterosexual wedding and share a sad, heterosexual kiss, and you’ll carry me over the threshold of our nice, heterosexual house, and we’ll have boring, heterosexual sex that gives us nice, heterosexual babies, because we are so heterosexual and happy in our suburburban house in our nice little heterosexual town.”

He’s honestly kind of proud of himself for saying heterosexual so many times. Usually he fumbles words with that many syllables, especially after that many times in a row. 

Chrissy is outright laughing, now, endearing little snorts making their way between giggles. Eddie is looking between them like they’re a puzzle he can’t piece together. Robin grins.

“I’ll cuck you with the secretary.”

“Not if I cuck you first. You’ll be away all day in that office of yours, and I need someone big and strong to carry all the new furniture I ordered.”

“I knew it! I knew Timmy wasn’t mine!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t help myself,” he swoons. “Mark was just so sweet, with his bulging biceps and hand flexes, all hot and sweaty from helping poor little me while you were away! You know I’m weak to curly hair and brown eyes, Rob, how’s a man supposed to resist?”

“Fag,” she says, not without affection. 

“Dyke,” he shoots back. 

“Cocksucker.”

“Carpet—“

“Okay,” Eddie breaks in, clapping his hands. He and Robin both startle, and so does Chrissy from where she’s been watching them like a particularly interesting tennis match. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Robin lost her virginity and didn’t even tell me,” Steve says immediately, like he’s tattling to the principal. 

“Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of waiting,” Robin retorts. 

“I told you when I had gay sex,” he whines, and Eddie chokes. “I hate you. See if I ever give you tips again.”

“Oh, is that what you meant?” Chrissy asks. “Please don’t stop. They were good tips.”

Robin flushes all the way down to her toes. 

“You like boys?” Eddie wheezes. 

“Oh,” Steve blinks. “Yeah? I thought you knew.”

“You thought I—how would I know?”

The fuck is that supposed to mean? Steve’s been flirting with him for months!

“Robin always says we can sense each other! You sensed her.”

“You told him?” Eddie’s mouth drops open, and Robin looks sheepish.

“She didn’t have to,” Steve snarks. “You’re flagging in Hawkins, man. Was I supposed to miss it?”

“You know what flagging is?”

“Again, in case you missed it, I fuck men.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters. “Fuck! Christ, I can’t believe this. You’re, like, the epitome of heterosexual. I spent half of high school having to hear about how much pussy you were getting. Why are you not straight?”

“Wow, Eddie,” he deadpans. “Are you saying just because I like men and woman, I’m not queer enough? That’s kind of homophobic of you, man.”

“Yeah, Eddie, wow,” Robin says. “I thought you were better than this.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. “I feel like I need to lie down. My entire worldview just shattered.”

“I have a couch?” Chrissy offers shyly. “Or a bedroom, if you need a minute away.” Fuck, Steve kind of adores her. Especially since she’s apparently vicious n bed, if the five other hickies he counts just from Robin bending down a little to whisper in her ear are any indication. Good for her.  

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Robin says, with a glint in her eye that means he’s either going to love or hate what comes next. “If it helps, Steve’s never fucked a man in his life.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, looking between the two of them. “So…you’re just making fun of me?”

He looks a little angry now, and Steve can’t make heads or tails of this conversation because, “What the hell, Rob, yes I have—“

“Oh, so suddenly you’re the one doing the fucking?”

“Stop making fun of me for taking it!”

Eddie lets out an honest to god moan that he immediately slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up. “Right,” he says fervently. “Okay. I need to lie down, like, for real.” 

They watch him stride down the hall, so fast he’s almost running, and slam the door closed behind him.

“I could totally top,” he mutters to Robin as something that sounds vaguely like muffled screaming echoes down the hall. “I top girls all the time. It’s not my fault prostates are a gift from God.”

“Uh, you top because all the girls you fuck are from small town Indiana. If one of them brought out the strap you’d drop to your knees so fast—“

“That’s—I like topping!”

“Your favorite position is cowgirl. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I will show Chrissy your baby pictures,” he hisses. Robin makes a face at him. Chrissy nods excitedly from where she’s still tucked under Robin’s arm. 

“Oh what’s that?” Robin practically shouts. “You like being pressed against walls and ravished? You want someone to tie you up and have their filthy way with you? Is that what you said, Steve?”

Another noise from the bedroom. He narrows his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” she says sweetly. “You’re both hopeless.”

“I told you he’s shy!”

“Eddie?” Chrissy asks. “Shy?”

“Yeah, okay, I was confused too, but I figured it was the romance! He told me he hasn’t actually been in a relationship before, I assumed he was nervous to take that step.”

“Yeah, but dingus,” Robin says sweetly. “You’re missing a puzzle piece here. He thought you were straight. He thought he was flirting with his straight best friend he didn’t have a chance in hell with, and then he finds out that said best friend likes taking it up the ass and men with brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Steve says, realization dawning. “Oh, fuck. What if he doesn’t like me like that?”

Robin smacks the back of his head. “Why are you stupid?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Chrissy says. “Like, really don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’m not coming over tonight,” Robin says. “I’m gonna stay with Chrissy again. Er…if that’s okay?”

“That sounds amazing.” Chrissy beams, and Robin turns red again.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay with Chrissy again tonight. You are going to invite Eddie to stay the night when he gets done with his little crisis, and then we’re getting lunch at the diner tomorrow and you can tell me about it before our shift.”

“Right,” Steve says. “Right, I can do this. I’ve invited guys over before, how hard can it be? It’s just Eddie. But that was hotel rooms, not my house and my bedroom with my shitty wallpaper. And it’s Eddie. Fuck, what if I’m shit at it? Robin, what if I’m actually bad at sex and everyone who’s ever said I was good was lying because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings? Oh my god, I’m totally bad at sex.”

“Woah, dingus, slow down. I think we took the mind meld too far, you’re turning into me.”

“If it helps, I don’t think you’re bad at sex,” Chrissy says. Steve and Robin look at her, and she flushes. “Because of the tips! Not because—I’ve never slept with you, but some of my friends did, and I got three orgasms out of last night, so…”

“Oh thank God,” he breathes. “I was worried for a minute.” Then he raises an eyebrow at Robin, and holds out his hand for a high five. She slaps it, begrudgingly proud of herself, and then takes the hand to pull him into a headlock that’s honestly more of a hug than anything. 

“You’re fine,” she whispers in his ear. “You’re great at sex, as you keep telling me. What’s more, you’re funny, charming, handsome, brave, caring—“

“Aww, Robin, are you getting sappy on me?”

“Plus Eddie literally moaned in front of you when he found out you bottomed. I really don’t think there’s a way to fuck that up.”

Steve grins. “He did do that. I’m going to make so much fun of him later.”

“So,” Eddie says with a smirk, “men with brown eyes?”

“Hey man, don’t look at me. Blame Jonathan.”

Now Eddie looks stunned, mouth dropping open. “Byers?” He says, sounding betrayed. “You have a crush on Byers of all people?”

Steve feels offended on Jonathan’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a good guy!”

“I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess? He’s sweet, passionate, good with kids, nice eyes. Can pack a punch. I mean, what’s not to like?”

“Uh, didn’t he steal your girlfriend?”

He waves that off. “That was, like, years ago, man. We’re cool now.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Well have fun with Byers, I guess.”

It clicks. “Oh,” he says. “Oooh. You’re jealous.”

Eddie splutters. “Jealous? I’m not—I don’t—you’re jealous!”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says resolutely, not looking at him. 

“Right,” Steve agrees. “Well, if I am jealous, maybe I should know that I got over Jonathan years ago, and have since moved on to brighter, hopefully more attainable pastures than my ex’s ex.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“A different man with brown eyes?” He suggests. “Who is also good with kids, and passionate, and…” he trails off, suddenly realizing all those times Robin made fun of him might not be based on nothing. “Oh my god, I have a type. Shit, I have to tell Robin she was right.”

“I figured that was a common occurrence.”

“Shut up. Where was I going with this? I had a point.”

“You were telling me how awesome I am?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s you we’re talking about?”

“I mean,” suddenly Eddie looks shy, and Steve can’t help but think even with the change in context he might have been right when he told Robin Eddie was nervous about being in a real, romantic relationship, “isn’t it?”

He feels himself smile, slow and wide and probably more revealing than he means it to be. “Yeah,” he says, in a tone he knows Robin would call soppy, “it is.”

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part ten

490 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine

When he opens his locker on Monday morning, two notes are lying there amongst Eddie’s things. 

One in the usual scrawl he’s grown fond of and one not. 

Eddie i really like your smile, even when you’re being a little shit how was your weekend? anything fun? i missed you at the party  i don’t think you showed but i was really fucked up so who knows that’s ok though, i didn’t really wanna be there either  -H

Eddie can’t help but smile. The second note, on the other hand, makes him snort. It’s the shit he usually got in his locker before H. 

Freak yada yada yada fag yada yada going to hell blah blah blah blah.

God. Very original. He throws that one in the trash and tucks H’s away with the others. 

He still can’t quite picture Tommy Hagan saying the things from the notes, but he guesses that was sort of the whole point. 

Still, he’s having trouble combining the two people in his mind. 

He doesn’t know which is the true Tommy, but, honestly, Eddie wants no part in finding out. He doesn’t wanna know if Tommy actually likes him. Just the thought makes him shiver in disgust. The boy isn’t all that bad looking. The freckles are kind of cute. But, man, he’s so annoying. 

Eddie doesn’t wanna know if the notes were a prank the entire time, either. For all he knows, Tommy probably got a good laugh when Eddie showed up last week actually wearing the ring.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s gonna do.

Well, that’s a lie. He’s taking the damn ring off, that’s for sure. 

He doesn’t have the heart to throw it away, though, so he just puts it with the bundle of notes for now. 

At lunch, Tommy is facing away from him, but he can’t help but stare as he tries to mesh the man he’s looking at now with the one who wrote him such sweet messages. 

Eddie knows that the next time he sees Tommy calling someone names or just being an asshole in general he’s gonna have to hold himself back. If he were a worse person, he’d confront him about it. Alas, he’s not. 

His gaze wanders to Tommy’s right where Carol Perkins sits. That’s the other thing; Tommy has a girlfriend. 

Eddie doesn’t even wanna attempt to untangle that mess. He shakes his head and moves onto another person in Tommy’s orbit. 

Steve Harrington. The King. The Hair. 

God, Eddie kinda wishes it were him instead. He’s never been that much of an asshole, honestly. He was even pretty great about the whole birthday fee thing which was refreshing after arguing with people for a whole week beforehand - including Tommy. 

Eddie shares art class with Steve. Carol, too. Neither of them seem that bad. He just doesn’t understand why they’re friends with Tommy. 

Then again, there’s not much he understands these days.

eleven

tag list (closed)

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I Didn't Know You Smoked

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Steven has a secret habit.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Everytime I write something I feel myself putting on the clown make up more and more.

Warnings: Use of ‘fag’ as the British and Australian slang for cigarette, reader doesn’t smoke, blow job, fingering, p in v sex, cream pie, maybe kind of a cream pie kink from Steven if you look closely, swearing, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 2741

The scent of smoke caused you to pause midstep. You shrugged off your backpack and hung it up on the side as you walked to the kitchen and put down your shopping bag. You’d been able to start cooking when you realised you were missing a few key ingredients and had made a quick dash to the corner shop. 

The smell of smoke hit you again, and even though it was very clearly cigarette smoke your mind quickly spiralled to smoke from a fire. Shit. Had you left a candle on in the bathroom? 

You’d lit one when you had a bath after work, the image of the flame somehow catching the towels and running up the walls burst into your head. 

You rushed to the bathroom, yanking open the door with such a force that the hinges groaned under your exertion. 

Steven practically jumped out of his skin, whipping his head around to look around at you, his eyes wide. “What the fuck?” He yelps.

“Shit, Steven, sorry, I thought I’d left a cand…” You pause, and truly take in the scene before you. 

He’s stood on the toilet, crouched a little so that he can reach the tiny top part of the window that actually opens. There’s a cigarette in his left hand. You can just see it from your angle. Steven’s hand outside in the cool evening air.

“You’re smoking?” There isn’t any judgement in your voice, just surprise. 

“Yeah, fuck, sorry,” he turns to hastily blow smoke out of the window, practically trying to shove his whole face outside before he grabs the old jar from were he had propped it on the window sill and stubs out his cigarette hastily. He puts the butt in there after and screws on the lid. 

You’d seen that old jar on his desk plenty of times. Just assumed it was filled with odds and ends. You didn’t realise it was his secret ashtray. 

The sight of him blowing out the billow of smoke is kind of… nice actually. Despite his obvious panic there’s something about it you can’t quite put your finger on. You shake your head. 

“No, don’t worry, I just… didn’t know you smoked?” 

Jake smoked, you could set your watch to his cigarette breaks; they were so precise. But he would always, without fail, go outside. Rain or shine, freezing cold or oppressive heat. He didn’t seem to mind if the lift was broken or not, outside he would go and the butt would go in the bin on the street after. Never on the floor. Jake was a stickler for that, had got into more than one verbal (and physical) fight with strangers who just flicked their fag onto the pavement. 

Marc had smoked, several years ago. But had quit and never touched another one since. It always used to puzzle him when he had the craving for one after not smoking for over a decade. 

Most other ex-smokers he spoke to talked about being revolted by cigarettes once they had fully stopped for a few years. Now that he knew about Jake, and his continuing habit, whenever the urge got too strong he just tapped out and let Jake go for a cigarette. (Marc still argued that smoking was bad for them, while Jake countered that technically Khonshu’s suit healed any damage every time they wore it. Which had led to a very lengthy debate over if Jake’s true reasoning for serving the moon god was so that he didn’t have to quit his nicotine fix.)

They didn’t smoke often, and Jake went more than out of his way to minimise any smell that clung to them. But it meant that you never found it puzzling if they smelt like smoke. It just meant Jake had had one. 

Steven had never mentioned smoking himself, in fact he often scolded Jake for it. 

“I don’t smoke, I mean,” Steven blushed a little, his shoulder slumping. “Well, that’s a lie, innit? I smoke… sometimes?”

“Sometimes?” You repeat with a small smile.

“Sometimes… just sort of,” he shrugs. “Feel the urge sometimes. I used to… before I met Marc and Jake, once or twice a month, just one fag, you know? I hid a packet under the sink.” 

“Under the sink?” You laugh kindly and Steven smiles and nods. 

“Yeah, here,” he gets down off the toilet and points at a little space under the taps. “And then I’d smoke out the window so I didn’t set the alarm off or stink out the place. I tell you, I used to always get confused because sometimes I would smell a bit like smoke, even though I hadn’t touched them in weeks.” He shrugs again. “I thought that’s just what happened.” 

You chuckle. “And you still sneakily have a fag every now and then.” 

He nods and grins bashfully, “every now and then… I know I should be good and go outside like Jake does but… it’s like, part of the ritual now. You know? Stand at an awkward angle and half hang my head out of the window. Wouldn’t feel right otherwise… plus sometimes I just can’t be fucked.” 

You laugh loudly and he smiles, glad that his little joke amused you. 

“Marc and Jake don’t know…” He says shyly. 

You nod and mime zipping your lips and he grins again. 

“Thank you, love.” 

You lean to give him a quick kiss but he pulls back a little.

“Sorry, I mean, I definitely taste like smoke, disgusting, you don’t want that do you? No.” He shakes his head. “I’ll brush my teeth.” 

You screw your face up a little in what Steven at first assumes is agreement at not wanting to kiss him while he tasted of cigarettes. 

You let out a little grumble and take hold of his cheeks, holding him firmly as you place a kiss on his lips. 

Even though the action is brief he does taste like smoke. And it’s kind of… nice again. A strange little spark of heat begins to grow in your belly and suddenly you can’t get the idea of fucking Steven with a cigarette dangling between his lips out of your mind. 

The way you know he would writhe and whimper, biting down on the butt to try his hardest to stop it from slipping out of his mouth. 

He moans low against you as you slide your tongue against his, spreading that smokey flavour across your taste buds. 

“Hmm,” he pulls back just a fraction to speak, even though his hands slide to your hips to pull you closer. “What’s gotten into you, love?” He grins.

“Nothing,” you mumble and kiss down his jaw, running your teeth over his neck and leaving sloppy bites.

Steven shivers, a little gasp of air hitching in his throat as he urges you even closer. You bump against his quickly hardening cock and he groans, bucking his hips forward to rut against you. Kissing his neck was always his weak spot. Practically guaranteed to get him hot under the collar at a second's notice. 

He whines a little as you move away from him for a momentarily, his fingers tighten instantly against you, trying to keep the space between your bodies to a minimum. 

“Here,” you grab at the cigarette packet on top of the cistern, and pull one out before you offer it to him.

Steven raises his eyebrow at you. 

“Just, erm, can you put it in your mouth?” 

He pauses for a second, chewing at his bottom lip nervously. “I don’t want to smoke in front of you love, if I’m messing up my own lungs then-”

“No, no, you don’t have to light it… just…” 

His eyes widen ever so slightly and a small smile pulls at his lips. “You like it, huh?” He teases softly. 

“No.” Heat burns at your skin but you can’t help but laugh lightly. “...yeah.” 

He chuckles and takes the cigarette, nuzzling into your cheek. “Alright, but… let’s not tell Jake about this, yeah?” 

You raise your eyebrow at him this time. “And why is that?” 

“Oh,” Steven shrugs, moving the cigarette between his fingers in an almost hypnotic pattern, “no real reason.” 

“Really?” You grin.

“Hmm,” he smiles playfully, “Jake gets lots of things.”

“Does he?” 

“Yeah… and maybe I want this to be my thing.” He kisses you quickly before he puts the cigarette in his mouth and leans close to your ear. “I bet if I stuck my hand down your trousers my fingers would come back soaking, wouldn’t they?” 

“Steven,” you try to chastise but your voice comes out all whiney and desperate. You can’t take your eyes off the way the cigarette just hangs from the corner of his mouth, bobbing with every word. 

He chuckles, taking it from between his lips so he can kiss you roughly, and hold the back of your neck with his other hand. 

You lick hungrily into his mouth and push him back against the wall, trying to regain some control over yourself and the situation. 

He lets you, in all honesty he always lets you do whatever you wanted, smiling the whole time when you pull back like the cat that got the cream. “Never thought you’d have a smoking kink, love.” He puts the cigarette back in his mouth.

“It’s not a smoking kink,” you scowl playfully and drop to your knees. 

“No?” He teases lightly, pretending to take a long drag. 

“No.” You unbuckle his jeans, pulling down the zip and relishing the sound of his contented sigh as you palm his cock. 

There’s a little wet patch of precum already soaking into his boxers from the tip, a visual cue of how desperate he is despite his quite commendable effort at seeming calm. His dick twitches as you touch him, as you languidly push his trousers and underwear down his hips and take his length in hand. 

“No,” you repeat, “I have a you smoking kink.” You give him a little smile as you look up at him before you run the tip of your tongue along his velvet warm length.

He shivers, letting out a small cry of satisfaction as his eyes close and eyebrows pinch together. The sight of him pressing his head back against the tiles with the cigarette at the edge of his mouth sends a sharp thrill down your spine. 

You lap at his slit, board, flat licks that have him shaking and squirming in no time as you lightly squeeze and pump him from the base. 

He tries to stay still, to let you play and tease at your own pace for as long as possible. But his self control is rapidly dissolving. 

By the time you suck his bulbous head into your mouth he’s practically crawling up the walls. He groans low in his chest, glancing down so he can watch you slowly bob your head back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper each time. 

You moan around him, trying to open your jaw and take him further but he’s so thick it’s nearly impossible. 

Heat burns distractingly at your core and you can’t sit still, shifting on your knees to rub your legs together to try to relieve a fraction of that maddening ache. 

He wants to grab you by the back of the neck and force his cock down your throat, wants to buck and trust and cum so deeply until he spills from your lips. 

Instead he bites his teeth together, almost severing the cigarette in two and claws at the tiles as bliss twists and grows in his stomach. 

You manage to take him a fraction deeper, your throat aching as you pick up the pace, squeezing his thighs and swirling your tongue around his tip as if your life depended on it, as if his pleasure was the only way for you to breathe. 

His stomach muscles clench, balls contract and you can tell he’s painfully close by the little whimpered moans that slip past his lips with every breath. You’re about to-

Suddenly he grabs hold of your chin, pulling you back off him and groaning at the trail of salvia that connects him to your mouth. He pulls you up and into his arms with a rare show of his strength and kisses you deeply, the cigarette falling to the floor. 

“Steven,” you moan, the sound muffled by his lips. 

“Off, off, off,” he mutters, undoing your trousers and pulling off your top and bra. He strips you so fast it makes your head spin, and then he’s sitting on the toilet lid and pulling you down onto his lap to straddle his thighs. 

Your hands fly to his shoulders and you have just enough time to tug his t-shirt over his head before he presses two thick fingers into your entrance. 

You moan, keening as he curls them, the sensation like lightening along your nerves and Steven swears.

“Oh god, you’re so fucking ready for me,” he mumbles, salivating as he sticks his fingers in his mouth and pushes you down onto his needy, weeping cock. His hips instinctively buck up as his tip notches in your entrance, sheathing himself halfway.

You moan, high pitched and throwing your head back as he stretches you deliciously. You barely have a second to adjust before he grabs your hips and forces you all the way down and it’s perfect. So full and hitting so wonderfully deep that you gasp. You can feel your slick gushing out of you, making a mess of him as he bounces you on his cock. 

He groans, eyes glazed over, blurting out fragments of sentences with every thrust. “Can’t believe you like me smokin’ that much, fucking amazing, so wet, squeezing me so tight, ah,” he moans loudly, pushing his forehead against yours and kissing you messily, so hungry for every part of you. 

You gasp against him, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own and chasing that sweet release so desperately. 

“Gonna fucking smoke everyday, become a chain smoker just so I can always have you whining on my cock, every single second, just keep you filled up and- oh shit!” Pleasure cracks into his being, surprising him with its suddenness and intensity. He moans loudly, rutting against you as he pumps you full of his spend. His skin sweaty, his hair clingy to his forehead as his hips slow and he comes down from his high.

Steven looks up at you with dark eyes, “fuck, sorry.” He kisses you sweetly, still breathing hard. 

“It’s okay,” you stroke his head and he preens up into your touch. Your thighs twitch, your need still thudding hard and making you squirm ever so slightly. 

Steven hisses softly at the movement, overstimulation flooding his mind with both pain and pleasure. 

“Sorry, I-”

“Keep moving,” he groans, pressinging his face against your shoulder and lightly biting your skin. “Cum on me.” He mutters, keeping his left arm wrapped around your waist while he snakes his right hand down between your bodies and rolls your clit between his nimble fingers. 

You gasp and whine lightly. Rocking yourself up and into his touch. 

Steven moans again, mouthing at your skin and the wet mess between your legs as you move. He thrusts upwards shallowly, rubbing you in perfect time. 

“Steven,” you pant, squirming as your legs start to spasm, the pleasure so close it’s on the tip of your tongue. 

“That’s it love,” he whispers so softly, “that’s it.” He looks up at you with his large doe eyes, completely enraptured with you in that moment. “You can do it.” 

You cry out, so, so close it’s driving you mad. The pull of his fingers, the rock of his hips, the fact that he’s still hard inside of you and pushing so deep. 

“You can cum for me,” he bites his bottom lip, his voice like silk. “Can’t you?” 

Pleasure spikes up and overtakes you, blossoming out and hitting every nerve. You moan, quieting yourself ever so slightly by pressing your lips to his and kissing him messily. 

Steven echoes the sound as you cum, your walls squeezing him so tightly and sending an aftershock of deep satisfaction through his veins. 

You breathe heavily as you calm, and he hugs you tightly, grinning and still looking up at you with those beautiful eyes. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[noemilivv]

PH MI GOSH ✨️ANON HERE I GOT ANOTHER IDEA (

So angel Is a performer, right?

So imagine, huskerdust meeting and slowly getting to know reader,, who also works under the vees but as a live theater actor.

Maybe huskerdust might have a crush, maybe not (depends if your ok with poly)

And he recently got cast as a character, and is panicking and angel offers to help, and husk watches, just so happy and affectionately by seeing the people he's closest to have fun in something their both good at

And they go to readers show, where he plays JD from Heather's (like Jamie muscatos ver.) And it's just fluff and maybe some hurt comfort when reader worries on opening night

(Also a one-shot idea but if u don't do those it's entirely ok)

Have fun, take breaks and don't forget to do the do!! Have a goody good :))

HELLOOO ✨ ANON MY LITTLE RAINBOW OF LOVE !! this is actually so cute, and the fact that reader is jd is even better, i haven’t watched heathers in a hot minute so i hope this is good!!

Warnings: Swear Words, Use of the F-Slur, Based loosely off of Heathers the Musical

“Meant to Be Yours”

Husk x MT!Performer!Reader x Angel

You paced your hotel room that was shared between you and your boyfriends, waiting for an email on casting results for the most recent show you auditioned for.

“Sugar, you did great, there’s no way they ain’t casting you, relax.” Angel said, with a sleeping and purring Husk in his arms, his face shoved in his fluff.

Before you could comment your phone dinged, you went to swipe up on it, before realizing it was the cast list. “Fuck!” You yelped, nearly dropping your phone.

Husk groaned, he had been woken up, shoving his face further into Angel’s poof, as your other boyfriend chuckled.

“Well, open it, what ‘re we waitin’ for?” Angel said, quite eager to see the results, being quite the big fan of Heathers himself.

You scrolled for a bit before yelling out a loud scream, “I GOT THE PART!”

“Fuck yeah, baby!” Angel cheered, tossing his arms up in the air.

A monotone, ‘Woo…’ came from Husks lips as he attempted once more to drift off to sleep, he cared, it’s just he was hungover and tired, what’d ya expect?

“Hey Ram, doesn’t the cafeteria have a no fags allowed rule?” Angel quoted from your script.

“…Line.” You muttered embarrassedly.

“They seem to have an open-” Before Angel could finish, he was cut off.

“Ohh!” You said in realization. “They seem to have an open door policy for assholes, though.” You recited, getting back into character almost instantly.

The both of you went on as Angel helped you practice and memorize your lines. But little did the two of you know, that your cat boyfriend who watched from afar, spent the whole time recording you guys out of sight…

After hearing you run lines and songs for almost three months straight, Husk and Angel definitely got them stuck in their heads.

You would hear Husk humming to ‘Freeze your Brain’ while he worked at the bar, and you would hear Angel banging out to ‘Our Love is God’ while in the shower.

You would’ve never expected them to be so supportive of this, but nonetheless your over the moon, theater was your life both on Earth and in Hell, so you’re glad your boyfriends seemed to enjoy it.

Opening night came sooner than you wanted it to, you were gonna miss the cast you grew to love, but more importantly…you were nervous. You had never performed infront of your boyfriends before and you didn’t want them to think you were bad by any means.

You sat in the mirror, doing your makeup to get ready to go to the theater, you could feel your hands shaking from what felt like every emotion known to man.

“You okay, sweetheart?” You heard a rough voice speak from the doorway, you could see him in your mirror, Husk.

“Yeah…” You say, setting down your concealer, “Just uh, nervous, for tonight.”

“Hey.” Husk says, approaching you, his paw resting on your shoulder. “No matter how it goes, you’ll do great, and me and Ange will be supporting from the sides.”

“I guess so, but what if you guys think I’m bad?” You say, looking at Husk through the mirror.

“Hon, we’ve watched you rehearse for this, we’ve seen you go over your lines, we’ve heard you sing your songs, which by the way, are stuck in my fuckin’ head thanks to you, mister. All three of us know just how good you are, and tonight is just an opportunity to show all of Hell how great our boyfriend is.” Husk said, chuckling slightly, ruffling your hair.

You turn to face him, and hug him while still sitting down, “Thank you, baby.” You mutter.

“Of course, Doll.”

[wishmaster]

Hey wishy! I’ve been bullied my hole life for being an out and proud gay guy. I’m as femme as they come, singing showtunes and prancing my way through life. I was wondering though. I’ve always thought about how the other, straighter half live. So, like could you turn me into an obnoxious straight dude. Whose whole personality is about be anti woke and straight?

straighter half

Barely out of high school now you ooze douche bag jock. Your ripped body every girl's dream. Though spending the summer at the homestead in the south wasn't your ideal at least you get one last hurrah with all the pussy you missed out on before graduation.

You reek from the chores you did today, you decide to go to the gym keep the stench alive. Hey Billy Ray, one of your ex girls said as you left you ignore her looking to trade her in for a better piece of ass in the big city. She's still pissed you broke it off and decides tp pants you, putting your bare ass on display, reveal a pride flag tattooed on your ass thanks to yours truly. Suddenly you're furious, ain't having no god damn woke faggot shit on me and in your new dumbass way yo look for the stupidest ways to get it off.

You grab your gun hellbent to find out who put that there.

You spit your chewing Tobacco and hop in your truck, heading out to raise hell while your girl shames you on the socials, by the time you make it into town, you're a disgrace for having that filth on your body

You go as far as fucking a girl in front of your buddies just to prove you ain't no fag, but you've been marked. It's too late, the life you lived was over ruined my some dumb ass tattoo. that night you end it all feeling the shame you brought on your family even though that wasn't who you were.

When you awoke, you found you were your old bubbly self, the memories embedded in your mind of the antiwoke straight dick still haunted your mind as you head outside, spitting tobacco from you mouth as your cute hillbilly boyfriends came in from tending to your family farm. You're so happy you grew up in an accepting family that don't care if you're a fag or not.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Wip Tuesday ✨ tagged by the ever-amazing @disdaidal who I miss and think about every day ❤️ thank you so much 🌹

***

The knife falls out of Tommy's hand as he gets pinned up the wall by the heavy bulk of Hargrove's body.

"Fuck, Harrington! You okay?"

Steve quickly kicks the knife out of the way - under the bed, right, he's not gonna be able to get it from down there,

"Yeah, 'm fine. Christ, Tommy, what the .."

He doesn't get to finish the sentence because

Something ..

Something is happening.

Billy suddenly flies across the room and lands hard on the floor while Hagan ..

Oh my god

He stands tall, taller than Steve has ever seen him standing, there's an evil glint in his eyes and his hands - oh fucking hell, no .. the skin on his hands and all up his arms is a curling pattern of black veins.

"Guess you are not the strongest one now, Hargrove."

***

Part of Tommy I miss you

Harringrove and tommy, where Tommy has had a crush on steve since forever, and then when billy rolls into Hawkins, crushes on him as well, but never acts on either, cause he's so obviously not a fag. Still, he's jealous out of his mind, especially when he finds out that these two have been secretly fucking, and maybe it's even more than fucking, Steve doesn't share any information with his best friend on that matter (it's definitely more than just sex). Hagan's also canonically dating carol. So Tommy's just a whirlpool of fucked up feelings, until on top of it - he gets flayed and becomes the Mindflayer's right hand and confidant.

***

Tagging @dragonflylady77 @fizzigigsimmer @thissortofsorcery and anyone who wants to show the world some of their writing 💖

[beah388love]

Over Protective Brothers…

18+ Minors DNI!!!

Full Masterlist Legend Masterlist

Pairing: Reggie Kray x Fem!Reader

Summary: Times where my brothers were protective of me especially with Reggie or Ronnie.

Warnings: Swearing,allergies,gang,mention of gun!!!(please tell me if I missed any!!!)

Times where my brothers were protective of me especially with Reggie or Ronnie.

——

Reggie knocked at the door.

My brother, Billy answered the door.

He stiffened when he saw Reggie. They hadn't been introduced yet, they had only met once at a club and didn't speak one on one with one another.

"Yeah?" Billy spoke and Reggie smiled.

"I'm uh- here for y/n? Is she in?" Reggie asked and Billy didn't answer.

"Right..well-" reggie got cut off by Billy.

"Where are you going with her?" Billy asked

"Just down to my club the uh- Esmeralda" reggie said and Billy didn't move an inch or show any emotion.

"What're y'a gonna do?" Billy spoke lowly.

"Just have a drink and talk y'know a date" reggie smiled but didn't get one back.

"What's that?" Billy said as he pointed to Reggie's blazer pocket that had a light outline of a gun.

"Oh-uh this?" Reggie awkwardly chuckled knowing billy saw the gun. He pulled out a fag from his pocket.

"No.the gun." Billy spoke threateningly.

"I-uh" reggie stuttered and didn't have any excuses.

"Give it" billy demanded and Reggie shook his head.

"It's for protection, y'know your a gangster too aren't y'a" reggie said and billy sighed.

"Yeah I am, but I'm not letting my sister go out with a fucking gun, a gangster but not a gun" billy stated.

Reggie handed Billy the gun and Billy gave him a fake smile.

Reggie gave one back.

"Billy? Is it Reggie?" You asked him and he nodded.

"If your not back by nine thirty, I'll kill him" Billy stated to you and you nodded with a smile.

"I know. I'll be back by nine" you smiled and left the door holding Reggie's hand.

"I don't think he likes me" reggie chuckled and you laughed.

"I don't know, he didn't even talk to my other boyfriends" you giggled and Reggie smirked.

"Other boyfriends aye?" Reggie teased and you blushed.

"They were all dicks though" you sighed.

——

Ronnie knocked at the door.

I opened it and was about to leave but my younger brother George stopped me.

I had only recently introduced my brothers to Reggie and Ronnie, although they knew them lightly from the ‘underworld’ .

"Y/n/n?" George said as he stopped me from leaving.

"Yes Georgie what's wrong?" I asked and he gave ron a confused look.

"Where're y'a goin?" Georgie asked me.

"I'm goin down to Carpenters Arms with the twins" I said and he nodded stiffly but lightly.

"When are y'a coming back?" George asked me and I smiled.

"About nine-ish" I said and he nodded.

"Be safe, love ya" Georgie smiled but didn't smile at Ron.

"I will Georgie, I love ya too" I smiled and left with Ron to the bar.

——

Reggie knocked on the door.

"Who's that?" Johnny asked dolly and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Reg?" Johnny said as he opened the door and he smiled.

He was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"What're you doing here?"

"I uh- I'm takin bee out on a date" Reggie smiled and Johnny nodded

"Oi! Bee!" Johnny yelled up the stairs.

"I'm comin" you replied as you walked down the stairs.

Reggie smiled when he saw you.

"Hey reg..." you smiled up at him blushing.

"These are for you" Reggie stammered as he held the flowers out to you and Johnny pushed you back.

"Woah! Are those gladiolus?" Johnny asked as he held the flowers away from you.

"Uh- yeah I think so why?" Reggie asked worried and confused.

"She's allergic!" Johnny said quickly and chucked them away.

"Shit...I didn't mean to- I didn't know I'm sorry" Reggie said running his hand through his hair and you giggled.

"It's alright reg...i do puff up like a pufferfish though" you giggled making him laugh.

"God..is there anything else I should know?" He asked and you shook your head.

"Johnny I'm leaving now!" You shouted and he walked back to you.

"Be back before eleven yeah? Have a good time love ya" he said giving you a kiss on the head before you left and shut the door.

"I'm scared to give you anything now.." Reggie chuckled and you giggled.

"I'm fine reg! I'm only allergic to them nothing else, don't worry" you reassured him.

[half-oz-eddie]

The Widowmaker (Part III)

[Part 2]

18+, slurs, Billy has a daddy kink

Billy settled in Hawkins for a month, laying the Widowmaker to rest for awhile. The last man he killed was an important member of society, blah blah, whatever...the world was better off without him.

But it was a good time for Billy to lay low, to spend more time with Steve, which he really enjoyed.

“There’s something I wanna tell you.” Steve told Billy, fingers scraping the coffee table.

Billy noticed how uneasy Steve was, and this made him uneasy in turn. “What is it?”

“Billy, I—I really like you. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Billy could hear his father calling him a fag. He knew he’d have to kill again just to quiet that voice. 

“Billy?”

“Yeah, I—um…listen, I’m not gay or anything—“

“I’m not either. I’ve never had feelings like this before. Tell me you feel it too.”

Billy eventually nodded, albeit reluctantly. “I feel it. I like you too.”

Not even another word was exchanged before they were in Steve’s bedroom, tossing their clothes about, kissing and touching on his bed.

He threw on a condom and slid inside Billy’s ass. Steve was no stranger to anal, but he’d never even romantically touched a man’s hand before this. He was taken aback by how much pleasure Billy found in his thrusts. 

“Feels that good?”

“Mmh, yeah. Steve, oh, god, Steve!”

As Steve caressed his cheek, Billy pulled his hand down to his neck. 

Steve indulged him, enjoying the way Billy moaned and writhed beneath his hands as he thrusted in and out of him, but eventually moved his hand and planted kisses instead. 

Steve was the gentle type, and Billy wasn’t used to gentleness. It felt so nice and so damn sweet. 

He softly shushed Billy as he whimpered. 

“I know it feels good. I just want to take care of you.”

Billy nodded. “You…like to be called daddy?”

“Yeah. You can call me daddy if you want.” Steve noticed a shift in Billy once he said that. His eyes softened and his chest expanded.

“Mm, daddy.” He whined. 

“Yeah? You like that?” He thrusted even faster. 

“Fuck me, daddy. Hurt me as much as you want.”

“Not too much. You’re too precious, baby.”

“Y-you mean that?”

“Of course.” He gently thrusted, kissing him between strokes. 

“Ooh, daddy! You feel so good.”

“You feel even better, baby.” He sputtered precum inside Billy. “I’m not gonna last long. You’re too good.”

“I’m close. Just a little longer, daddy.” He plead. “Don’t stop, daddy! Don’t stop! Don’t you fucking stop!”

Steve fought back the urge to cum for as long as he could, but Billy’s tight ass really sucked his cock in. 

Billy came with a loud moan, squeezing his hole on Steve’s cock, making him cum with a groan and a mouth full of breathless curse words.

“Fuck. I’ve never had sex like that before.”

“Me neither.”

Billy was afraid to get attached, but it was too late. He simply told himself if things went wrong, he’d kill Steve—but only if he had to.

—

When Steve woke up the next morning, Billy was gone. 

He left breakfast and a note on the table.

“Didn’t wanna wake you. I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll miss you.”

Steve clutched the note to his chest and smiled. He couldn’t wait to see him again. 

—

Billy wasn’t sure if going back to Hawkins was a good idea. Sure, having a normal, stable life in a small town made him seem less suspicious if things ever started closing in on him, but it felt safer being a nobody. 

In Hawkins? He was somebody. Somebody special, somebody that meant a lot to Steve. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. Everything about Billy was a lie in every aspect of his life. He lied about his name, his occupation, he even lied about his sexuality. He always knew he was gay. 

He wanted to be Billy. Gay Billy who woke up early, turned in late, swam in a pool whenever he wanted, and kissed a lonely, rich guy every single day. 

But Billy needed to stop Neil’s voice. The only way to stop him was to keep killing. He needed keep Neil quiet so he could be happy. Maybe killing every few weeks, and living in Hawkins full time wasn’t a bad idea. Hopefully that was enough to keep Neil’s voice out of his head. 

“One day, I won’t hear you anymore.” Billy said through his teeth, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as he sped out of Hawkins. “And when that day comes, I’ll win. I’ll fucking win and you’ll really be dead.”

—

Steve: Will you be home soon? Steve: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. 

Billy was floored by the wording of Steve’s text. Home? Soon? Was Hawkins his home now? 

Billy: Yeah. Just finishing up a job.

Steve: There’s a serial killer going around the country killing men. Please be careful. 

Billy: Lol I’m probably not his type. 

Steve: you’re not funny 😭 but you’re my type. 

Billy: I love knowing that.  Billy: Be careful, okay?

Billy told him, as if he were trying to save Steve from himself. He’d never want to hurt Steve, of course, but it did make him uneasy to live his life knowing a monster was resting dormant inside him.

When he was with Steve, he was a normal, fun-loving guy and the widowmaker would never emerge. Even in the presence of Jim Hopper, an older, remarried father. He felt no urge to kill.

Jim became someone dear to him, along with his daughter and the sweet wife he had, who would make him desserts and bring them by when Billy was alone at Steve’s while Steve worked.

Billy parked his car in a random residential area, not expecting a thing. He just wanted some place quiet to think, to shake Hawkins off for a bit and awaken the widowmaker.

He was startled by the sound of breaking dishes, and he could see a man beating his wife. 

“Stop before the kids get home!” She plead.

Neil. He thought to himself. 

He didn’t care if this man was remarried or not. Billy was going to kill him.

He was going to kill Neil.

Again.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#350

This is a direct follow up to Story #320.

“Hey boy.  Figured I’d find you back here, cruising for driver cock I see.  Ha Ha!  Good boy.  You missed your old man?  I know it was what four days?  I’m glad to have you back.  Let’s go to our cab.  No we ain’t going to play, not yet.  I have a couple of piss bottles for ya.  I hope you are thirsty….

“Did Harvey treat you well?  Well, did he treat you like the cunt fag we know you are?  Good.  I’ll talk to him later.  Are you cleaned out?...  Do you have any load in there?  Four? Damn boy!  I told you to have fun with other drivers, but four?  How many for the four days?  Eleven?  Fuck yeah boy!  You make your Master proud.

“Here we are.  Truck Sweet Truck.  You’ve got housecleaning to do when we hit the road.  No, we’re not going up.  I have other plans.  Come back here, between the two trailers.  No one can see us.  Come here.  Welcome back! 

“I missed smacking you across the face so bad.  Fuck that feels right.  My dick is getting hard from that one slap.  I was going to wait until later, but…  turn around.  Bend over a little bit.  Pull down your sweatpants a little. 

“We are far enough in the back here, no one is going to see us, unless they walk by and happen to catch a man and his cunt between to trailers.

“Damn, you are loose!  No shit you got plowed eleven times.  And damn!  I can feel those loads.  When we get on the road, you are going to have to work on tightening up that cunt muscle.  Boy, this is where I need to be, buried balls deep in you—inside my cunt.  Clamp down as much as you can….  Fuck yeah.  I ain’t going to last much longer.  No time to go into beast mode.

“Oh yeah boy.  Reach underneath and play with my balls.  Oh yeah, just like that.  Here is comes boy.  Here it fucking comes!  Fuck boy.  Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!

“Whew.  OK boy, go to it.  Damn! Look at the coating on my dick.  Clean me up.  I hope you cleaned up each man that dumped in you as well.  I will beat the fuck out of you if you ever disrespect any man who used you.  Your mouth feels so good around my dick. 

“I’m not going to piss in you yet.  Get up.  Let me get those piss bottles….  Here.  One is for you to drink now, and one will be later. 

“Here give your master a kiss….  Damn, your face smells of ass.  Harvey’s?  I know he likes to have his shitter eaten out.  Don’t worry.  Your face is going to reek of piss.  Drink up….  Heh heh!  That’s my toilet.  Don’t chug it all down, save an inch or two and pour it all over your face….  Now you will smell of ass and piss, like you lived in a seedy men’s bathroom.  Just like you should be… 

“Now hold on.  You know what’s going to happen.  That slap is going to leave one nasty red mark.  Now for the other side….  Don’t fucking flinch….  Good boy.  Now you are the way I want you for tonight: covered in piss, smelling of ass, redden by a few bitch slaps, and brewing a spooge stew in your cunt.  Let’s go.  Grab the other piss bottle.  Follow me.

“God I missed you.  I know it was only four days, but damn I had to deal with my fucking ex-wife.  It’s official, we are no longer married, and everything has been split up.  All the paperwork is done.  Done!  I have no idea why I needed to be there; it could have been done on the road through e-mail.  She managed to get me so fucking pissed off; I’m glad you weren’t there or you might have wound up with a few broken bones.  I was so fucking angry.  My first wife didn’t drag this shit out like that stupid cunt.  Fuck! On my drive back here, all I was thinking about was having you by my side.  That made everything right.

“This is the first time I have been back to this truck stop in many years.  I told you about it several times.  This is where I met the owner of this place and his boy who turned out to be his bitch boy.  I watched that fagboy worship his owner, and I wanted to find my own version of that.  God knows, I didn’t find it with my cunt bitch of a second wife.  I think deep down I knew it needed to be a fag.

“I mentioned that story to Harvey, and he said he knows the owner quite well.  So we arranged this weekend for me to celebrate the finalization of my divorce, and, I didn’t forget this, the six month anniversary of me taking you in as my obedient fag.

“Tonight, we are going to hang around that same firepit.  It’ll be a little bit colder, but the fire should keep you warm.  I timed this just right to kickback and watch the sunset.  You will be on display.  Don’t fucking embarrass me.  You do exactly as you are told, no matter what is being expected of you.  I will decide if something should seem to cross the line.

“I do have a surprise for you.  The firepit is over there, behind that bar and restaurant.  There’s way more growth, so it will provide even more privacy, not that they curbed their activities before.

“Look.  Harvey is already there getting serviced by two naked slaves.  That man is such a pig.  Oh and there’s the owner.  When we get there, strip naked and kneel beside me.

“Hey Harv, I see you wasted no time….  Hi, we’ve met before, many years ago.  I’m Mack.  And you… Hutch?  Glad to meet you Hutch.  I assume those two fag boys over there on Harvey are yours.  Well, this is the fag Harvey told you about.  He’s been my property for about six months.  We connected on the internet, and this fag gets it when it comes to servicing, sacrificing, suffering, and submitting to men. 

“Cunt, go over to Hutch and clean his boots.  And if he wants to use your toilet mouth, he’s gonna. 

“I see you knew I was coming.  You have a cigar and a glass of… Scotch?  Fuck yeah.  Perfect timing. 

“Harv, give me one of those fags.  I’m just going to sit here and watch the sun set, with a nice smoke, and a faggot to suck on my cock….  Next to two other men doing the same.  Life can’t get any better than this….

…

“Wow.  That was stunning.  Driving a truck for a living, my schedule limits kicking back and enjoying the good things in life.  I’m glad I have a cunt with me, taking care of my needs along the way.  In fact,…

“Hutch, when do you think you’ll be ready?...  Whenever I am?  Let’s do this. 

“Hey boy, get over here and take over kneeling between my legs.  Lean forward and give me a hug.  Plant your chin firmly on my chest, between my nips.  Let me look at you.

“Ok boy, ignore whatever Harvey and Hutch and his two slave boys are doing behind you.  Focus on me, and what I have to say.  I’m whispering so that only you can here this.  I want this to be just between us.  You understand?

“Good.  Good.  As I said to you before, I am glad I took you in as my boy, my cunt, my slave, or my whatever.  I have no idea what type of fag you are to me, other that one that works for me.  After these last few days without you, I am certain that I want you with me going forward.  I want you to be with me, always.  You mean so much to me.  I love you boy.  I love you.  I do have a question for you. 

“No, I am not asking you to marry me; I would never go through that bullshit again.  So get that out of your head now.  Do you want to be my boy, permanently? 

“…You make me so fucking happy.  Ok.  I do have a ring for you.  No, while it’s not jewelry, it does symbolize your permanent commitment to me.  I love you.

“Ok guys.  Let’s do this.

“Boy, you are going to be held in place by me and Harvey.  Hug me.  Hug me hard.  I’m going to kiss you to muffle your screams.  The branding will last only a few seconds, but the ‘O’ ring brand on your right ass cheek will be permanent.

“This needs to happen.  Scream into my mouth….

“…It’s done.  Shh, shh, I got you.  I got you.  It’s fine boy.  I love you boy.

“Hutch has some ice to cool it down.  That should feel soothing.  C’mon exhale.  I got you. 

“Ahh.  You probably feel that don’t you?  Yeah, I’m getting hard.  Scoot down and give me some head.  Boy, don’t you dare think things will change just because I gave you that ring.  Get that idea out of your head right now.

“You need to get back to servicing me.  I have a long night planned for you to celebrate your commitment to me.  I don’t know many drivers who fuck fags, but Harvey apparently does.  We got a gang bang planned for you. 

“Look up at me….  Goddammed, even in your confused state, your face is so fucking slapable.  That will never change.

“Hutch, want the honors of being first to fuck my son?...  I fucked him a while back.  I’ll take his cunt when it’s all full, from the other drivers.

“Son, I love the sound of that.  Son, pay no attention to what is going on behind you about who is mounting you.  Rather focus on my cock.  Focus on my pleasure.  Focus on me, your dad.

“Going forward, instead of Sir or Master, I want you to start calling me Dad.  That just seems right.  Don’t you think son?”

[princess-glassred]

Thinking about how absolutely wretched Henry's time at Juniper Hill's had to have been, and how awful it was for Pennywise to still keep fucking with his head, just to keep him the perfect little violent puppet.

Tw for: child abuse, sexual abuse, bigotry

Imagine him slowly going mad for real the longer he sits in his little room, only to be endlessly taunted by horrific ghosts of his pasts that just won't let him rest at ungodly hours of the night.

Imagine the shambling corpse of his father showing up to scream at Henry just like when he was a little boy, chastising him for still being such a whiney little cry baby who made his mother leave. "You didn't seriously think you killed me Henry, did you? a sissy like you couldn't kill a god damn house cat! If i had known you were gonna grow up to he such fucking wuss i would have chopped your balls off when you were born and called you Henrietta? I bet you woule have loved that wouldn't you?! You fucking tranny fag!".

Then Patrick would show up, gloating to him about how much he missed his little boytoy, making gross sexual remarks and putting his hands all over him. Describing how much he simply ADORED what they did in the junkyard that day, threatening to do it again right here right now wether he likes it or not so everyone can see how much of a little queer he is, a little hypocritical pansy queer. Taking great pleasure in describing to poor trembling Henry all the ways he plans to humiliate him with sexual and verbal abuse.

And just for extra measure, every so often a member of the losers club might drop by to taunt him, reveling in how old and weak and terrified Henry is now.

A young Eddie Kaspbrak telling him in great detail how frail and weak his age must have made him, a young Ben Hanscom coming to point out how his own struggles with weight and food from living in the asylum for 27 years, ect. Ect. All so Henry feels the need to snap and scream how he still hates them snd could kill them all if he wanted too.

There are some nights Henry tries to fight back against these awful visions of his past, and cling on to the very very small twinges of sanity he has left.

Moments where he tries to be calm and remind himself of the very few happy memories he had with his mom and whenever he would hang out with Belch, Vic, and Patrick like they were just normal kids. When they would drive around and listen to metal music, head banging like rock stars, or when they'd take turns shooting a pistol at random stuff in a junkyard, or when Vic simply asked him if he was ok after his dad humiliated him... but nothing works.

They don't go away, and to the rest of the hospital staff, all they see is a deeply disturbed and frightened fourty year old man with his hands over his ears, eyes clenched tight with tears streaming down his face as he begs and screams for some invisible force to stop hurting him and just LEAVE. HIM. ALONE.

The hospital staff may seem sympathetic but their thoughts are all the same: "lock this one up and throw away the key.". They don't even wanna help anymore, and even if they did, it wouldn't do anything. He's not allowed to recover. So they just keep him medicated day in and day out, till he's practically a zombie who can't take care of himself. And it still doesn't fucking work.

And that's when Henry Bowers to loathe, and even fear nights in the asylum. During the day he's so out of it he can't help but smile and forget where he came from. His only link to sanity/the outside world now is just little nighlight they gave him to put by his bed. But the night is still so fucking terrifying, after all... that's when Patrick comes back. That's when his father shows up to scream at him. That's when the losers club have a laugh at his expense. That's when... that's when the moon talks to him.

Henry Bowers is terrible person and was a deranged and terrible child, and i'm not gonna sit and pretend like he ain't, but there's something incredibly sad to me about how even 27 years later, Henry is still being tortured. He's just a pathetic old man now and Pennywise is still fucking with him to make him him an effective puppet. There's no hope for recovery or improvement, and there never was. not even when he was little.

[widowshill]

A song you’d put on a playlist for a character you love!

MUSIC ASKS.

"A Well Respected Man," The Kinks, 1965. the satirical angle of this song works really well for Roger — who, notoriously, does make his regular trips to the office only to fuck around and do absolutely nothing there — as a character who is both given respect in his community as one of the Collinses of Collinsport and yet sneered at for being unequivocally the least of the them. The Kinks' discography pokes the same kinds of holes in the image of the upper class bourgeois as Dark Shadows, and no one embodies the selfish, ridiculous, incapable rich man who only has his position because of his family's efforts before him quite like Roger Collins.

this verse is a great one:

And he likes his own backyard And he likes his fags the best 'Cause he's better than the rest And his own sweat smells the best And he hopes to grab his father's loot When pater passes on

which captures the mien of Roger's character from two sides. there is the rancorous self-absorption — the belief that Collinwood is the nonpareil of domestic civilization, at least in Collinsport; that he and all he owns are god's gift to Collinsport-kind (you could substitute liquor for fags, or you could use it as a double entendre and Americanize the phrase); that his relationship to Jamison is purely one of greed — not entirely unfairly, given that Roger immediately blew his inheritance upon his father's death and auctioned off his shares to generate more.

But the tone of the song undercuts the one-dimensional view of the protagonist (and of Roger), not only in pointing out his vanity and egomania, which is obvious, but in revealing deeper failings and weaknesses in the worldview. Roger simultaneously reveres Collinwood, his backyard, as the crowning jewel of his family's success, as his family home, and yet reviles it as mausoleum and prison — backyard invoking the image of something enclosed, private and perfect, but ultimately restrictive. he may enjoy the best of all possible vices — upscale, expensive brandy, or enviable partners in the other interpretation — but they remain vices; he is not above common humanity — the fishermen and cannery workers whose labor provides for his lifestyle — but sweats the same as them. The use of pater is particularly cutting in describing his relationship to Jamsion because of the Latin connotation. The death of his father left Roger the voids not only of father to son, but paterfamilias in Collinwood and Iuppiter in Collinsport at large. All of which the subject in the song is clearly incapable of filling and in Dark Shadows falls to Elizabeth instead: heading the Collins family, running the town and the business, and raising Roger's son.

I also have to point out the last verse before the final chorus:

He adores the girl next door 'Cause he's dying to get at her But his mother knows the best about The matrimonial stakes

In the present day, the girl next door at whom he's dying to get is obviously Vicki, only next door down the hallway rather than the street — and the matrimonial stakes being that he forgets, he's already married, and Vicki would like to get married someday and not have her virtue compromised for that future. Liz (as mother-figure) impresses this on him at the very beginning when she catches him trying to get into her room, and much later on Roger puts his personal feelings and jealousies towards Vicki and her fiancés aside in order to see that Vicki has the best chance at marital happiness (and part of the adoration absolutely stems from the fact that he can't get at her — that Vicki is in another class virtuously and socioeconomically and thus completely unattainable).

but you could just as well apply this verse to before the series begins when he marries Laura ten years prior, a captain's daughter who Elizabeth regards as a golddigger, instead of marrying apropos to his station — or being besotted by Miss Murdoch and her fisherman fiancé both, neither of which meet the matrimonial stakes for the heir to the Collins fortune (concerning class and money as well as producing a well-bred heir to continue the Collins name ... though in a funny twist of fate Burke does give him a son!)

Roger is of course part of a proud Collins family tradition of being more interested in the servants than his social peers or his wife — and this gets a mention by the Kinks as well, with his father pulls the maid while his mother passes looks, as well as bills at every suave young man. which is to say that his inheritance is as much the money and the house and the position as well as all the accompanying nuclear ills, key thesis of "A Well Respected Man" and Dark Shadows, alike!

[metalmusicwhore]

vent post kinda? or maybe it’s a rant idk just feelings ig AUUGHH

I really REALLY don’t wanna fucking go back to school I’m actually so stressed out. I have like no friends even the ones I do have I haven’t talked to like all summer and this fucking cheer team im on is gonna be the end of me I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD. The girls are so fucking rude I have no ABSOLUTELY ZERO friends on the team nobody fucking talks to me the coaches yell constantly ANDFUCKING SINGLE ME OUTLILE MAAM MISS GIRRL THIS IS SIDELIND FUCKING CHEER IVE BEEN A COM CHEERLEADER FOR OVER FIVE YEARS DO FUCKING TELL ME HOWW TO DO SHIT YOU SAW ME AT NATIONALS DONT DO THIS SHIT TO ME YOU FUCKING WHORE IHATEYOU STOP FUCKING TELLING ME THIS IS HARDER THAN COMP CHEER ITS FUCKING KOR AHEOEBAMDD

I really wanna quit the team but I fucking can’t my parents won’t let me because they’ve already payed for it like I know it costed hella money but don’t you think my mental health and me still being alive matters more DONT YOU THINK THAT YOUR OWN KID YOUR FLESH AND BLOOD MATTERS MORE THAT PAPER WTF ACTUALLY WTF IVE BEEN DOING THIS SHIT FOR YEARS I WANT A BREAK IM SO TIRED OF IT EVERY TEAM IVE BEEN ON THE GIRLS ARE RUDE LAST TAM I WAS ON WAS BETTER BC I HAD MY BEST FRIEND BUT I MOVED AWAY AND NOW INHAVE NOBODY I CANT DO THIS SHIT ANYMORE LIKE I ACTUALLY CANT

MY MENTAL HEATH IS DEGRADING BC OF THIS MY SH PROBLEMS ARE COMING BACK AND I CANT EVEN TELL MY PARENTS BC THEY FUCKING YELL AT ME SAYING THAT IT HURTS THEM MORE THAT IT HURTS ME LIKE HHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHH WTF DO YOU MEAN YOU DICKHEADS WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN I CANNOT DO THIS ANYMORE ACTUALLY WTF

IM SO TIRED OF FEELING THIS WAY I CANT GET AWAY FROM IT SSSIIGH HUGE FUCKING SIGH I JUSST WANT THINGS TO GO BACK TO NORMAL I JUST WANNA FEEL NORMAL BUT I FUCKING CANT IM LOSING SLEEP OVER THIS IM MOT EATING BC IM SO STRESSED ABOUT EVERYTHING

My parents tell me “you’re only a teenager you have the rest of your life to look ahead you don’t need to be stressed about anything” YES I DO YES I FUCKING DO YOU DONT KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO STRUGGLE LITERALLY STUGGLE TO NOT KYS EVERYDAY YOU DONT KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO GET MADE FUN OF FOR HAVING SH PROBLEMS YOU DONT KNOW WHAT UTS LILE TO HAVE UOUR OWN BROTHER RAT ON YOU ABT YOUR SH AND HAVE YOUR PARENTS YELL AT YOU FOR HOURS NOT EVEN HELING JUST YELLING AND MAKING YOU FEEL WORSE ABOUT EVERYTHING

THERES NOT GONNA BE THE REST OF MY LIFE IF THIS SHIT KEEPS UP I CANT EVEN TALK ABOUT IT MY MUM FUCKING LAUGHS IT OFF AND SAYS IM FUL OF SHIT LIKE I CANT HAVE MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES BITCH I FUCKING DO IVE HAD THEM FOR YEARS YOU FUCKING FAG WHY DONT YOU BELIVE ANYTHING I SAY AASUUUGGHHHHAHAKEHKWAOJDLSKALS MAKES ME SO MAD SO FUCKING MAD I CANT PUT IT INTO WORDSAAAAARRRGGGGGGGGAGAGEUJEJEKWKWORJDJN

I actually can’t fucking do this anymore I’m trying so fucking hard not to kms rn I’m so scared to do it but I can’t live like this anymore I can’t even talk about it without being yelled at I need help but I’m scared to talk about it with my parents BIGGEST FUCKING SIGH I HATE EVERYTHING RN I CANT BE HAPPY I CANT BE SAD I CANT DO ANYTHING PLEASE JUST KILL ME NOW IM NOT FUCKING JOKING ITS MY TIME TO GO ITS BEEN MY TIME TO GO IVE SERVED MY TIME ON THIS PLANET JUST FUCKING KILL ME ALREADY ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD PLEASE IM BEGGING AT THIS POINT I CANT LIVE LIKE THIS

[sourcreammachine]

Charlotte

or, The Day Your Mind and Body Gets Claimed By a Minor Goddess

Alex was an old uni friend of yours. You’d spent most of those hazy years nursing hangovers with food he’d got delivered, relying on his class notes, and flooding the house with more booze than is clinically advisable. He’d spent the years borrowing your games consoles all day every day, getting mortal and relying on the taxis you’d be forced to pay for, and desperately trying to get some sleep over the sound of your questionable choice of men. It was good times.

A small handful of orbits round the Sun later, and you were off the train and at the door of his little terrace in his bigger city. It’d be nice to spend another day chilling with the bastard once again, now that train tickets are something you can afford, with your fancy copywriter job and everything.

The six-foot-something towering twink gets the door open. Somehow he’d only gotten more homosexual in those few years, the hair fluffier, the face more perfected, and with a baggy cardigan to boot. As soon as the door will let you, you squish yourself into your favourite fag in the whole universe, your head buried in his chest making some sort of affectionate noise. Cologne, masculine, not his. You’ve missed him.

The corridor-stairway of the dig is an absolute tip. The landlord hadn’t even put a floor in, that was bare concrete on the ground level and bare something on the steps and first floor. Through the second locked door to his let and it’s landlord’s special top to toe, beige and beige and fake-laminate lino. It’s fairly stark - the current group of renters can’t’ve been here long. Knowing Alex, he’d’ve turned the place into a skip already.

“You need a drink? Tea? Coffee? Squash?” he invites as you get yourself seated on the shitty fake-leather sofa in the kitchen-come-living room. Squash - adorable! He’d not bought it in just for you, the bottle was half-emptied, he’s still very much a squash-drinker. Well, with the economy the way it is, he’s not exactly going to be switching to champagne any time soon, is he? You remember the nights spent getting pissed on student budgets using orange squash to cut just about anything. Your twisting stomach kindly asks you to stop remembering.

You take him up on the offer and break proverbial bread with orange squash. No- peach and orange, or orange and something, something nice. Going up in the world. Yours went down fast, you’d let yourself get parched on the journey up, stupid little thing.

A few rounds of nattering later and a door opens down the corridor, and barefoot steps come towards the everything-room.

“Charlotteeee!” mewls the twink.

“Hiiii!” mewls the Charlotte as she saunters into the room. “Who’s thiiis?”

“Oh, this is Charlotte,” Alex tells you, abruptly turning your way to introduce Charlotte to you rather than you to Charlotte, “my flatmate. And this is Cleo, Cleo from uni.”

“Oh my god, hiiii,” she says to you as she leans back against the kitchen counters. She’s got a black lacy top on, long brown hair, and a face with mascara, red winged eyeliner and lipstick too. It’s like she’s dressed up ready for a night out, at 11am on a Thursday that you and Alex just so happened to both have off from work. The lacy top definitely isn’t casualwear for February temperatures, the front being parted generously in the middle, with the lace darting back and forth between the two halves as if it was being forced open by her massive -

You stop staring at them and give a playful “Hello!” She’s heard of you from Alex’s stories, it turns out. A friend of his is a friend of hers.

“Can I get you a refill?” she offers with a playful swish in her voice, while already coming over to oblige. You don’t even say, making a confused little noise in want of the right words, but in presenting your glass to her she accepts with a warm smile. For fuck’s sake she looks even better from the back - no, compose yourself, girl.

“It’s good to finally meet you, though!” she says as more squash goes into the glass. Finally? You’re not exactly a celebrity.

“You too!” you bungle with a bit of a giggle, of course never having heard of this Charlotte. You thought Alex lived alone these days - but you put two and two together and guess Alex, Charlotte and probably a few more have just moved into this place, without it ever coming up in conversation. She’s bringing the glass back your way, gripped with doting hands of red-painted nails. You can’t help but smell her brilliant scent as she hovers just inches from you - joyous, fruity, exotic but homely, like a scent you could wallow in for a thousand years. Close your legs, whore. You have a boyfriend. Just because she’s unbelievably perfect, just because she’s exactly your type for when you swing that way, doesn’t mean you have the right to cheat on him, and do a disservice to little Alex, no less. She’s gone back to lean on the countertops again, hopefully allowing you space to ignore her perfection and stick your bisexuality in a box, in the corner, sealed with black tape and labelled ‘You Have A Boyfriend’. The squash is wonderful, an unplaceable taste swirling around the definite orange. That little riddle should help you focus on something other than her enormous (no, stop).

Thankfully the Antarctic levels of ice get broken into burgs of banter, and when she comes over to sit on an alleged ‘armchair’ opposite the little sofa you and Alex are sat on, you’ve managed to put the flustering behind you. You feel yourself relaxing, slowly drooping away from your natural rigid and alert position on the sofa’s edge, like you were being forced back into a comfy slouch.

“…no, no - don’t tell anyone, but I’m definitely scared of balloons!” she says after the ball had been rolling for a few minutes. Alex crumples into bouts of laughter. “No seriously, don’t tell anyone!”

“We won’t babe, we won’t -!” Alex tries to say seriously, while struggling to compose himself. It wasn’t that funny, mate.

Charlotte rocks back with giggles too, and looks your way again. “No, like, promise - raise your right hand -” and up goes your right hand, embarrassingly quickly, “and repeat after me: I swear -”

“…I swear,” you swear, with a note of laughter, as though the words were being forced out over a bed of giggles.

“-that I won’t tell another living soul-”

“…that I won’t tell another living soul,”

“-about Charlotte’s phobia of balloons!”

“about Charlotte’s phobia of balloons!” You’re laughing yourself silly at the end of the little ceremony. She had you hook, line and sinker. You fall on Alex in stitches, and he helps you recompose. Your right arm is still up. You lower it hoping they didn’t notice it being up for an embarrassing amount of time.

More banter and laughs, with this girl taking charge of the conversation. It’s a total house-on-fire situation, you can barely remember hitting it off this good with a friend so new.

Alex gets up to piss, leaving you and Charlotte alone for just a few seconds. He’s near the door when he quips “Cleo, promise me you won’t make out with Charlotte when I can’t stop you.” And with a smile on your face, the words slip your mouth faster than a bullet - “I promise!” He laughs and leaves. You felt a stab of awkwardness and worry, you fucking idiot you just gave the game away, but that feeling stabs only once before melting away. It’s like you’ve known her a thousand years. Like she’s your best friend already. Like you’re already on the level to joke about that sort of thing. The bad feelings get swept out of your mind like old ink on a whiteboard.

“You studied the same thing as him, right?” she asks.

“Yeah, history. History and alcohol, mostly.”

“Oh my goddd, I can’t imagine being a student with him! That’s an express ticket to liver failure.” You’ve not seen any alcohol in this house, actually. Odd. “Oh, hand me that glass,” and you hand her that glass, with the unknown orange-fruit all gone.

“I remember that glass - I bought it!” you say as she reaches around to place it on the floor behind her. “Alex made off with it, the bastard!”

“Just like him, you can’t have it back!” she jokes, she, jokes. Oh well, it’s Alex’s glass now.

You’re laughing together. You’ve known her for so long, she really understands your sense of humour.

“Are you comfortable on that sofa?”

“I’ve sat on worse things, I suppose,” you say.

“Give me your hand,” and you give her your hand. You wonder why. “Okay, don’t move,” she lets go of your hand and your arm lies suspended out before you. She gets out of her seat and heads back to the kitchen area. Your neck moves to follow her movements.

“What are you doing?” you say as the humour of the situation starts to run dry against confusion.

“Hmm,” she observes. She opens the fridge - it’s completely empty, except for a solitary bunch of grapes. You fucking hate grapes. You, you always used to joke about it with Alex. She returns to her seat, in front of you, your stiff arm bridging the gap, and places one red grape gently in your hand. “Eat it.”

You hate grapes. You hate them. You bend your arm backwards and, and then you stop - the fruit resting by your lips, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen asking you to eat a fruit you hate. She was such a joker, but where’s the joke here? Her eyes are warm and friendly, looking at you with kindness. You’re lost in a whirlpool of confusion.

“No?” you finally say, “Nothing against you or anything, but I hate grapes, they’re di-” the grape is between your teeth, you have placed it in your mouth, it is resting on your tongue, it’s supple skin delivering refrigerated, soggy cold.

“Remember to chew,” and you remember to chew. Slowly your tongue delivers the package to your left molars, and they close down upon it. Juice squirts back on to your tongue and everywhere, sour, horrible, unpleasant. You inhale sharply, you squint, you wiggle your neck ever so slightly, and the wiggles slow, and your neck seizes up, and you’re left, eyes open, chewing the grape in front of her. “Swallow,” and you swallow. You’re breathing sharply, it’s, that’s… that’s the only way you show the unpleasantness of eating the worst thing ever, with your neck stiff, with your eyes locked with hers.

It’s… confusion. You just ate your own least favourite food just because she told you to.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Confused?” you reply with, with an odd tone… one that would seem to be attempting an edge-cutting chuckle, but you can’t seem to move your torso in a way that would get a chuckle out. If she was flirting, it was the weirdest flirting you’ve ever seen. But, it worked, didn’t it? You ate the grape for her? No, it didn’t work - you hated having to do that, why did she make you do that?

“Why did you make me do that?”, your tone starting to flatten out, the best voice you can put on while your upper body is paralysed. While your upper body is paralysed. While your whole body is paralysed - you try to move any muscle, you try to stand up, but you can’t move.

You wear the stab of fear on your face - and she notices. “Don’t try,” and you stop trying. You are locked in place. “Remember, don’t be loud,” and you will not be loud.

“What’s happening? What have you done?” you speak, at conversational volume. She’s standing up, and she’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, picking up your hand. She massages your palm with her thumb.

“You won’t worry. You’ll be calm,” and you won’t worry, you’ll be calm. You could feel a little tide of panicked tears approach your eyes, but you know, that’s the end of it. You don’t worry. You are calm. A fear, panicked and flailing, is replaced with simply being here and now. You ate the grape, as she instructed. You don’t move, as she instructed. You became calm, as she instructed. She’s in control now.

“What’s my name?”

“Your name is Charlotte,” you say, with a calmed and honest tone.

“What’s my name?”

“Your name is Charlotte.”

“What’s my name?”

“Your name is Charlotte.” Her name was Charlotte. You’d ask what her name was, in case you were being tricked. You thought to ask. You would ask her what her name was. You did not ask her what her name was. The waves of questions lashed and failed to produce words out of your mouth. Was ‘Charlotte’ a wrong answer? She didn’t say…

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better.” What? What kind of an answer was that? But you knew, it was honest, and it was, somehow, the information she wanted. Alex has been pissing for a very long time.

“Do you love me?”

“I love you,” you tell the woman you met minutes ago, as she seems to root around in your head and take any information she pleased. You didn’t love her, you had the hots for her but that’s different, you - you love her. This was love. There wasn’t a feeling of horniness, there was a feeling of love.

“Love me more,” and you love her more. You’re… here with her, and that fills you with a feeling you can’t describe. You… Her. She’s everything. She’s everywhere. To think anything is to think of her, to imagine anything is to imagine her. All possible thoughts lead to her, like the winding branches of a tree always leading to the same leaf. You’re a drop in the ocean, you can feel that everything around you is Her, She gives you everything, She is your place, She is your everything. And she’s just kneeling in front of you with your hand in hers.

It’s… and you feel it. Creeping. Inside. It’s physical, a tingling sensation deep inside your skull spreading outwards, and it’s… it’s in your mind too, taking parts of you, your emotions, your thoughts processes, your memories, your dreams, and twisting Her over it like an infestation of vines. You… you are Cleo. You are an entry-level copywriter. You are a history graduate. But you, have memories. You follow the threads of your life backwards but they just keep going, your own life, your own memories… attached, integrated into… Her. She’s, She’s forever. She’s so much bigger than you. She’s the most important thing to ever happen.

“What’s my name?”

“Your name, is Charlotte,” you quiver out, incorrectly. You followed the threads of memory but couldn’t quite reach.

“What’s my name?” and you can feel it closer to your grasp, so you remember Her name.

“You have no name. You are above what I am. You are me as I am part of You. You are powerful as I am nothing. I am nothing, that You can use as something more. You are my strength, my love, my owner, my empress, my goddess. You are Everything and I am Yours.”

And when you say it, She, She thanks you. No words come out of her mouth. But the knowledge of gratitude enters your mind, and you have been thanked by Her, and She is the most important, and Her thanks are the most important thing in the universe.

You’re a thousand metres deep in your thoughts, in, in Her thoughts. But she’s still kneeling in front of you. You’re sitting in a room on a bad sofa and she is Everything.

It’s as though the vines constricting your mind are released one by one. She doesn’t control you anymore. You’re in control of your own thoughts again, and you look at your hands and realise you’re in control of your body again. So you fall forward off the sofa and place your arms around her, you fall in for dear life as a tidal wave of emotion hits. Now come the tears. She holds you close, too. You feel it, deep within yourself, that she loves you too.

You pull back and look at her face. It’s like everything makes sense now. “You’re perfect,” you manage to sputter through the tears, “You made yourself perfect for me.” And your thoughts seem to keep going, they seem to become hers, and you know. You know that this, what She is, is your perfect. A perfect trap set to snare you. And the silliness of it all makes you laugh as you fall back on her shoulder for another ugly sob. She holds you tight. Her embrace is your home.

“Oh, you’ve finished already?” comes Alex as he reenters the room. You look up and feel it, the roots of your thoughts tangling with his. You smile. You know.

“So, Alex was the first one?” you ask Her, knowing it’s true.

“Yes, now you’re the second,” says your new owner, though you already knew that too. You wonder why the three of you would even bother to speak considering she has mixed all your thoughts together, but you feel it quickly enough - words are love.

Alex sits on the floor next to you, cross legged, and you flop over from Charlotte into his lap and gaze up at his perfect face. He places his hand on your head and holds you, seeming to pet you almost. You return your gaze to Charlotte, and, and you try to reach out again, and you feel her there, again.

“I’m always here,” she says, answering your thoughts. So you try thinking some more, you think of your undying love for her, you think of devotion, you think of forever with her. You… you think her. She smiles. You think her come closer. She comes closer, leaning forward towards your place in Alex’s lap. It’s… it’s not as though you’re giving orders, it’s not as though you’re telling her to do something and she’s doing it, but more like you want something to be so, and it becomes so.

“Silly, it’s because we think the same now,” she responds. You feel her presence, in your thoughts, knowing your wants. So you want her kiss you, and as the neurons fire she leans in and kisses you. Paradise on Earth. You reach out to hold her, one hand managing to grasp her shoulder, the other hand clumsily pawing at her, frankly, silly breasts. She had you all figured out, didn’t she. You really are a predictable bitch. Her hand comes down to touch you too, grabbing your middle, comforting the dumb, self-hating thought. It feels so good.

You savour the knowledge. Knowing that you are part of her now gives you warmth. She pulls away. You feel the creeping inside your skull again, and she knows your thoughts and answers them with words.

“It won’t be long, baby,” she says. The words comfort you. She’s finishing up in there, claiming what’s left of your brain for her little empire. It feels so nice to be owned.

“I know how you feel!” Alex laughs, and you laugh. Even though you’re both Her now, he’s still him and you’re still you. Two little toys, playthings for your owner. Her stuff feels like it’s descending your spinal cord, she wants you be still, so you stay still in Alex’s lap. It… spreads. All inside you. Every inch of nervous wiring getting claimed, and it spreading into the tissues, and your blood and fluids and organs becoming her.

“How did you two meet, though?” you ask.

“Oh, happenstance,” Alex jokes, and you smile, but you find your thoughts directed through his memories, through, your collective memories. A break in space. A vision of a universe so big. A form so ancient and neverending, how he feared, how it took him, how it used him, how it took over his mind and body. How he became her in our world, and how she grew within him, creating herself a new form to call her own. How they rented a new place together, with enough space for a few more human servants, and ensnared me first. How that which grew within Alex, and grew to create Charlotte, is seizing my body now. How I’m part of her now.

“Passion fruit. And a hint of pineapple and mango,”she says, returning her hand to your cheek. It makes you smile, and she leans in. “I can be anything. I can be the perfect honey trap for any specific person, I can be a creeping infestation through your nerves, I can be the world’s most delicious poison.”

Her eyes close. Her eyes open. They’re black as space itself now. You gaze, devoted. An infinity, an infinity within her eyes. And an inky black tendril emerges from her torso and winds its way around your middle, holding you gently, another around your head. Her skin morphs to oil. She feels like perfection.

But she lets up. The gunk falls back within her, and she’s this ‘Charlotte’ character again.

“I love her, by the way!” you say, admiring her perfection. “I love the top, I love the body, I love the everything.” She’s flattered. She knows already, but words are love.

“You should’ve seen what he made for me,” says Alex. And although you have Alex’s memories, you know what ‘Matt’ looked like, Matt appears before you. Charlotte’s skin ripples and twists and grows and shrinks, the oily sludge forming and reforming to create the most basic, manicured ‘hot guy’ you’ve ever seen. Alex gets a little hard underneath you.

It sends you immediately. “You basic fucker!” you laugh at Alex, who buries his head on Matt’s shoulder through laughs of shame. You can feel the want subsiding within you, and you can feel yourself being allowed to move again. You lift yourself up out of Alex’s lap and gain purchase on the brick-wall torso. You gaze into Matt’s eyes, and you slobberingly kiss him. But he changes again and you fall forward through oily gunk. You can feel it all around you, embracing you all over. It slurps together and it’s Charlotte again - lying on her back, as you’ve fallen on top.

You feel her thoughts. You are the same. You look at your hands, and hope, and know, and yes - a small drop of black gunk forms, and detaches. You feel love. You feel your place. You look over at Alex, and let the feeling well up inside you, as you deform, as you collapse into sludge. You squirm, you see, you taste. You feel every part of Charlotte’s body all at once, and feel her thoughts, and let her become her godly self, a black mass of tendrils and fluid. You give her control as her form mixes totally with yours, integrating, becoming one thing on the floor of this dingy terraced flat.