#I need a fag(cigarette)

[endykelopaedia]

have never felt as frustrated & uncomfortable as a transmasc and with other transmascs as i have after delving into transandrophobia as a topic this shit is fr poison. HAVE felt as frustrated & uncomfortable as a black transmasc around white queers as i have delving into transandrophobia before bc a lot of yall are also real racist in real life too. i need to eject these brainworms so bad i need to... eject these brainworms.... soo bad...

[heatwa-ves]

[natjennie]

they'd never put it in the show but I'd genuinely kill for captain to get like really comfortable calling himself gay esp with slurs in the way we tumblr girlies do like. I'd do anything for him to be giving some more decorating advice and alison be like "wow why are you so good at this" and he goes "well it's simply my untouchable faggot swagger"

[napoleondodofan]

i really need a fucking Cigarette

[heart-shaped-chains]

I need someone to obsess* over tbh

[klinefelterrible]

I need a pack of twenty homies following me around with their dicks ready for action anytime I get stressed or nervous

[dionysus-drabbles]

Constantly on the cusp (of tryin’ to kiss you)

pairing: sid jenkins x f!reader

summary: you hooked up with sid all summer. it becomes a hell of a lot harder trying to navigate your relationship when you’re back at college together.

word count: ~2.4k

warnings: fluff, smut, & a hint of angst, freud references, dug out my a level psych textbooks for this one, possible mischaracterisation, reader smokes, reader is described as wearing a bra, shirt, shorts, and tights but it’s easily overlooked, protected piv sex, teasing, one or two mentions of marijuana, hickeys, ghosting, one mention of alcohol, sid is mentioned to have kissed another girl, refs to casual sex between sid & reader.

a/n: if ur the anon who requested, hi! hope I did ur req justice, i tried to include fluff, smut, and a little angst - I got a little carried away! hope I characterised him well enough & you enjoy it 💋 title from do i wanna know? by the arctic monkeys

It’s a warm Friday night, the cool breeze blowing through the window serving as a distant threat of the September weather yet to come. The sky is streaked with pink and purple, the gold of the sun setting shining in the horizon, the type of night you’ll know you’ll see as nostalgic as you grow older, and you’re in Sid’s room. You’re sat at his desk, reading from one of your psychology textbooks, pausing for a minute so Sid can keep up with writing notes, but the telltale scratching sound of pen on paper doesn’t come. When you spin your chair around, Sid’s lying on his bed, fingers laced over his stomach, eyes fixed on the ceiling - pen and notebook by his side.

“Oi,” you say, standing up and plopping down on the bed next to him, the shift in weight making him sit up and meet your gaze. “You’re meant to be taking notes,”

“It’s only September,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, suit yourself. Have fun failing your a-levels while we all go to uni, though, yeah?”

“Don’t be a twat. Why can’t I read and you make the notes?”

“Made them already,”

“Why can’t I use yours, then?”

“You’re seriously asking that?” You cock a brow, letting out a snort of amusement. You fall into silence for a minute, one that’s nothing if not awkward. Following your summer, being in Sid’s room without so much as a spliff, let alone your clothes on, felt unnatural. You’d found yourself fucking Sid for the first time after the first party of the summer, and it had quickly turned into a regular occurrence. Throughout August, the elephant in the room had been September, and you supposed it had been silently agreed to forget it ever happened. Easier said than done, based on the way your thighs pressed together whenever he moved vaguely in your direction.

“Can we not do this tonight, at least? Reckon we could make it to Tony’s party,” he suggested, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Psychodynamic approach isn’t going to learn itself, Sidney,”

“Fuck Freud. He just makes this shit up, it doesn’t make sense,”

“See, if you’d revised, you’d be calling it unfalsifiable,” you teased, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of your pocket.

“Piss off, let me have one,” Sid insisted as you lit it, blowing the smoke from your first toke in his face instead.

“Never taught manners, hm?” You snarked, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Please?” He countered, if reluctant. You turned to face him - when did you two get this close together? You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, smell his breath, and you suddenly realise his eyes are on your lips, not the cigarette. It’s instinctive now, the way you tilt your head ever so slightly when he’s this close to you, the way you lean in ever so slightly. His lips are about to brush yours when your phone beeps with a text and you both jolt back. You read it, shoving the cigarette into his hand as you stand up.

“I need to head home. Finish the fag. You can keep the textbook.” You leave without waiting for a response.

You have two unread messages!

sid: same time nxt week?

sid: will do wrk this time

When he next comes to revise it’s at your house, and somehow that makes you feel like you have the upper ground in this emotional cold war more than anything else. Your stomach turns whenever you think of how near you were to kissing the week before, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s butterflies or nausea. Either way, you’re sickeningly fixated on it. Unfortunately, the one time he’s focused, keeping to his promise to do work, you’re distracted.

“We’ve finished psychodynamic. Take five before humanistic?” You suggest, and he nods, leaning to open the window before coming to sit beside you on the bed. You give him a cigarette before you get one for yourself this time, but curse when you feel in your pockets to find them empty. And, like he can read your mind, he offers a lighter. You go to take it from him, cigarette between your lips, but he lights it for you instead. It’s oddly intimate, and you’re sure the feeling in your stomach is butterflies this time - and every other time.

You’re quiet as you smoke. Apparently, your mind thinks this is the perfect time to replay every single interaction you’ve had with Sid in this room. Every smoke, every kiss, every fuck, and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep your resolve.

“Hey,” he says, nudging your leg with his foot. “Is there…are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, we uh- we should probably get back to-“ you stub your cigarette out as you speak, the butt of his already sat in the ashtray, but you’re not given the chance to finish your sentence as his lips press against yours. It’s a shock, but the farthest thing from unwelcome. One of his hands entangles in your hair, the other on your waist, and one of yours caresses the skin of his cheek whilst the other cards through the tufts of hair his beanie leaves revealed at the nape of his neck. Your tongue presses at his lips, compelling them to slide open, and you taste the smoke in his mouth, reminiscent of the cigarettes stubbed out only a moment before, stifling the taste of weed. He’s just as addictive, if not more than, and you think that you’d happily never smoke again if he said you could be together, have this regularity with him.

There’s a moment of awkward shuffling as Sid readjusts his position, and you take the minute to catch your breath. His back’s to your bed frame, and his hand travels south to your thigh and nudges with his pointer and middle finger, and you’ve been hooking up long enough to know he wants you in his lap.

“Are you- can I?” He stammers, hand having moved to the hem of your shirt, looking down at it before meeting your eyes, and god, you’re not sure why you ever thought you had the higher ground with him. You pull it off for him, and his breathing falters, leaving him shakily as his eyes are level with your breasts. You can feel his hardening cock twitch in his trousers belong you, and all of a sudden it’s summer again, and you don’t care about exams, universities, anything but each other.

His lips attach to your chest, sucking dark bruises onto your flesh. They’re discreet, they’ll be hidden by your shirt, but they’re there, and he gave them to you. You grind your hips down into him and he lets out a broken moan, voice cracking with pleasure halfway through. The possibility of coming before he’s even inside you crosses his mind, and he knows he needs to fuck you as soon as possible. He helps you manoeuvre until you’re beneath him, hands shaking with desperation as he fiddles with the button on your shorts, tugging the zip down and sliding his hand beneath the shorts, the tights, taking a minute to slide his fingers across your cunt through your pants, dragging his gaze back to yours with a grin.

“All this, already?” He mocks, tilting his head to the side as you break eye contact and squirm from the pressure of his fingers.

He knows he’s in no position to talk, and he knows the risk of blowing his load in his jeans is getting more and more realistic, so he wastes no time in pushing your clothing down to your mid thighs and nudging a finger into your heat whilst his thumb circles lightly around your clit, painfully teasing. You throw your head back, whining, and he uses his other hand to stroke your cheek, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “Need you to be quiet, yeah? Don’t want anyone hearing, need this all for me,” the possessiveness mixed with his thumb pressing firmly on your clit and the addition of a second finger has you clenching around him, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you try to muffle any noise that might slip out. You know you’re close, your fingers scrabble for purchase on Sid’s back, one hand pulling his beanie off and allowing you to reach your hand into his hair.

He knows you’re close, attentive to the way your legs start trembling and you tense up, and he withdraws any contact before you do. Any complaints you make he hushes, murmuring into your ear as he frees himself of his own jeans, pulling a condom from his pocket in the process.

“You’re so mean,” You whine, hands reaching to help roll the condom onto his cock, tip red and already leaking precum.

“Yeah, m’sorry, sorry for being mean,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves back over you. “Let me…need to make it up to you now, right?” He asks, aligning his cock with your entrance. He kisses you as he pushes inside, any noises either of you would make muffled into each other’s mouths. He rambles as he fucks into you, chests almost pressed together, as physically close to you as possible.

“So good. So gorgeous. Been missing doing this, y’know? Made me wait so long to have you, got me going crazy,” he nips at the juncture of your jaw and neck between sentences, each word punctuated with the type of slow stroke that has you arching your back into him, and you find yourself pulling his t-shirt off and running your hands over his skin as if it’s the last time you’ll ever feel it, smiling as you watch the muscles in his abdomen tense and relax as your fingertips brush against his hips. He picks up the pace ever so slightly, moving one of your legs so it presses against his waist and your heel digs into his back, and you mirror it with the other. He kisses you again as he watches you try to stifle a moan from the new angle, nails raking up and down the pale, smooth expanse of his back. Neither of you last much longer, and he has to leave within the hour. You’re left with a dull ache between your legs, a chest tingling from where his lips attacked it, and heart pounding with adrenaline. Oh, and a text. One that comes precisely seven minutes after he leaves.

sid: u free same time next wk?

Then next week, you’re left waiting. Five minutes turns into fifteen. Fifteen into thirty. Thirty into an hour. You check your phone.

You have zero new messages!

You: nvr heard of warning sum1 when ur busy, sidney?

You don’t receive a response. He’s not in second period psychology on Monday, and you catch Michelle as you leave class.

“D’y’know where Sid is? He just aired me on Friday,” you say, lugging your bag onto your shoulder. Michelle shrugs.

“Probably on a comedown. You should’ve been there Friday, everything was going pretty hard, you’d have loved it. Last saw him then,” she shrugs, and your heart sinks. Oh. For a moment, your chest falls. Why would he do that? Shag you and ghost you? Why didn’t he do that in the summer, if he wanted to? The hurt quickly shifts into rage, a furious red feeling that seems to engulf you. If he wanted to play it that way, play the ghosting game, you’d let him. Fine. You didn’t need him. You resolved not to message him, going as far as to change his name in your contacts, but the texts you received that evening made it hard to stick to.

do not answer: (y/n)?

do not answer: im sorry, yeah?

do not answer: i need 2 talk 2 u

do not answer: coming ovr

You don’t say no. You should’ve said no, you know it’s better if you say no, you know you’re supposed to want to say no. But you don’t. When the knock comes on the door fifteen minutes later, you’re hoping it’s him. September weather has settled over Bristol, and it’s pouring with rain, so you end up opening the door to a particularly rain-drenched Sid Jenkins. He makes no effort to come inside, though.

“I’m sorry,” he says it before you’ve even fully opened the door.

“It’s fine, I don’t care, but, like, don’t expect any more tutoring, yeah?” you shrug, hoping your lie that you don’t care is more believable than it seems. He lurches forward and kisses you, a hand firmly on either side of your face, and when he pulls away you drag him inside and slam the door, staring at him with a sort of offended disbelief.

“I was gonna message, alright?! But then this girl kissed me at Tony’s for pres, and…I don’t know, I called her your name, and I just freaked out. I’m sorry for shagging and ghosting you, but it’s just…I can’t not date you, y’know? You’re just so nice and smart, and you actually listen to what I say. I’ve never had that before, I got scared. Tell me to leave, I will, I just needed to…I needed to tell you.” Sid rambles, and he could not be any more shocked when you kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist, and you don’t even care that he reeks of leftover sweat, booze, and weed from the weekend, or that his clothes are soaking yours. He’s yours, he thinks you’re nice, and smart, and pretty, and he wants to date you. You smile as you pull away, pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they’ve slipped and thumbing a section of wet hair off his forehead.

“So, dating, yeah?” You grin, still holding each other.

“I don’t know, I-do you want to?”

“Yes, Sid, I want to,” you giggle, and you’ve barely finished speaking before you’re kissing again. “Y’know, Freud would have said that calling another girl my name was an example of parapraxis”

“Are you really mentioning Freud right now?”

[ki-kink]

Yo bruv I love your page, and I want to become more chav like, you think you could help me out, bruv?

You're sitting in the subway. On the way to the office. You're reading the ipad edition of the Times. Suddenly you find everything so incredibly boring. You put the ipad back in your laptop bag and take your iphone out of the inside pocket of your jacket. And surf through instagram. But that's boring too. I mean, who uses instagram anymore. Your parents, maybe. You open your TikTok account. Shit, you need your headphones. Didn't you just have a laptop bag? Bullshit… Why do you need something like that? You're rummaging in your gym bag. The fucking things have to be somewhere between jockstraps and sweaty tank tops. There they are. And while you're at it, where are your cigarettes? You're about to reach your destination, so you'll need a fag first.

The welfare office’s coughed up, innit? For once, you’ve got a few quid to splash about. You and the lads are off for a knees-up tonight. But first, you’ve got to do your bloody community service. Otherwise, you’ll be in hot water with your probation officer again, and who needs that kind of aggro? Daz’s been rocking one of those electronic ankle shackles for a week now. Proper dodgy, that is. Blimey, what was your question again? Anything else I can do for ya? Or can I finally give you a cheeky blow job?

[irregularcollapse]

I recently got a kobo for the purpose of reading fics on, because I really struggle to read on my phone and so don't read anywhere near as much as I'd like to. After going hogwild and downloading a whole bunch of fics from ao3 that I've read and loved, and ones that I haven't gotten to yet, I figured out that I could add covers so that they look nice on the eReader.

This is the first batch of 'eBook covers' that I've slapped together, with big huge reccos attached to each of them <3 Some of these I'd already made covers for because they had been podficced by @angelfruittree! But here they are now with book-sized formatting.

ain't it easy? by @stereobone - not just a beautiful relationship study, but the most sympathetic and nuanced exploration of a dom/sub dynamic that I've had the pleasure of reading

although my heart is a rambler– by @london-cowboy - an intensely-focused, lovely character study of Bucky that is a quick punch of insight and romance

hellbent, heaven sent by @bucksbluescarf - a modern AU 'friends with benefits' quickie that captures their relationship so sharply, including everything that goes unsaid and unseen**

hit me where the heart is by @london-cowboy - is one that I need to catch up on! But the first chapter sent me through a spin, with the delicious feeling of being allowed into something illicit

if that isn't love, it'll have to do by me - lol I just needed nine in the grid and I had a cover for it! I like it though, read it (sorry for the autofellatio)

i'll be your loverman by @blixabargelds - a fic I think about on the reg, unprompted. It's gutwrenching and romantic and so visceral in both sensation and emotion; perfect loving whump!

like a mermaid, I want to eat you by @soliloquy-dawn - this fic begins with a dream, but the whole thing feels dreamlike. Reading it truly feels like being submerged in warm water, because of Dawn's lyrical and lovely prose

one of your girls by @soliloquy-dawn - it's a bit filthy, and a lot romantic, and I am not immune to possessiveness and jealousy in fics. A really lovely canon rewrite <3

thy de lonzerly bight by dendriax (who I don't think is on tumblr) - a playful, whimsical, stylistically cool mythological romance! It's quick and fun and sweet, with some excellent use of myth and mystery**

*The "Fags" painting is by artist Elisha McGucken. I don't know if they have Fags/Fads in the US, but they're the candy cigarette which came to mind for me and it seemed appropriate/I thought it was funny

**Background painting is detail from The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch

[anti-gravity-insanity]

Dragon knife, pen, lighters (2x), fidget of some sort, hand sanitizer, cigarettes, spare change, earbuds, wallet, altoids

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours

[smok3ygoth]

SANCTUARY

Summary: After a chaotic day, you head to the pub and bump into Louis, which blossoms into something beautiful. [1.3k]

—

Tonight, you find yourself at the local pub, seeking solace in your usual escape. As you sip your vodka and Coke, the familiar rhythm of the low music surrounds you, creating a comforting haze that drowns out your racing thoughts.

You swayed gently, letting the world outside fade away, if only for a little while. You'd been inside for hours, drinking and giggling to yourself, realising just how ridiculous your life had become.

"Can't fucking believe this."

After an exhausting eight-hour shift, you were so ready to unwind and enjoy some TV time with your lovely boyfriend, but then everything changed.

Once you got home, you heard squeaking from upstairs, like someone was bouncing on the bed. You didn't bother changing; you stormed up the stairs and burst into your bedroom.

"What the actual fuck?"

There, right in front of you, was one of your best friends getting bent over by your boyfriend—the guy you'd been with for five years, and someone you’d known forever.

"Wait—"

"I don't want to fucking hear it. You better be gone by the time I get back or you'll regret it." You'd said rather calmly, which is undoubtedly scarier than screaming at them.

And now, here you are at the bar, alone.

"Fuck, I need some fresh air." You grabbed your drink and went to sit outside on one of the empty benches. You reached into your back and you swore you had a pack of fags in there.

"For fucksake, could this day get any worse?" You said this right before someone accidentally spilled some of their beer on you.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" The woman apologised, but you could tell she was very pissed, so you just waved it off with a smile.

"Guess I'll just sit here and sip my drink," you said to yourself, hoping the night would turn around. You pulled out your phone, thinking about what series of movies you could dive into later to forget all this.

Then, a hand reached out in front of you, offering a cigarette. You looked up, surprised at the man standing before you. You took the cigarette and placed it between your lips as his hand came up to light it for you.

Inhaling deeply, you asked, "How did you know I needed a smoke?"

"I've seen you here a few times, crying, and I've always offered you a smoke." You blushed at his words.

Well, that's embarrassing.

Taking another long, deep inhale of the cigarette, you asked, "Aren't you that singer? What's your name?"

"Louis Tomlinson, and what may your name be, darling?" The pet name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Why did it suddenly feel so warm?

"It's Y/N, but you can call me whatever you like. Isn't it a bit risky just hanging out at the pub with no security?"

"A bit. My fans are respectful, though, so I love seeing them when I'm out. I'm guessing you're not a fan?" he joked, a playful glint in his eye.

"I could be a fan, but I might just be hiding it. You'll never know," you replied with a laugh, feeling the chemistry spark between the two of you.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to find out then," he chuckled, leaning in a little closer. The warmth between you felt electric, and for a moment, the earlier chaos faded away.

"So, what brings you out here tonight? Besides, you know, the vodka?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by why you would be here all by yourself.

You took another drag from the cigarette, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Honestly, I just needed a break from everything. It's been one of those days, you know?" You smiled, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.

"But now it seems like I've stumbled onto something a bit more interesting."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"You."

"You're quite bold, you know?"

"I am aware, yes." You giggle as he lights his own cigarette, offering you another since you'd finished yours.

You both sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the comforting silence that you both needed.

"Hey, Lou?"

"Yes, love?" He turned to you, a spark of intrigue in his eyes at the nickname you had given him.

"Would you like to—I don't know—be friends? We could go to my place and watch some TV since it's getting quite chilly out here, and I don't really want to drink anymore."

"Course we can, yeah. Don't want you walking home by yourself either." A smile spread across your face, gratitude shining in your eyes.

"Let's go then." You both finish your cigarettes, and you take his hand, leading the way to your place. It’s closer than Louis expected, but he’s not complaining.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag by the door. You quickly turn on the heating, eager to warm up from the chilly air outside.

"Would you like a drink or something?" you ask as he settles onto the comfortable sofa in the living room.

"Tea, please, love."

"On it." You smile at him as he gets comfortable on the sofa, making himself at home while scrolling through a bunch of different movies.

As you focus on making tea for both of you, your mind drifts, and you momentarily forget about your boyfriend—now ex-boyfriend.

"Y/N?" You spin around, shocked to see him still lingering in your house.

"I told you to get the fuck out."

"Wait—please let me explain!"

"What is there to explain? It was pretty obvious what was happening. I'm just curious about how long this has been going on." He avoids your gaze, mumbling.

"Hmm, what was that?"

"Two years."

"Wow. This all happened under my roof? You're fucking disgusting. Get out. Now."

"You heard her, get the fuck out." Louis spoke.

"Who the fuck are you?" Louis steps closer, wrapping his arm around your waist—a protective gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Your replacement. I'm better than you, and you know it, so fuck off." Louis grinned, a mix of amusement and defiance in his eyes as he watched your ex-boyfriend storm out, slamming the door behind him.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Louis' boldness and the way he handled the situation. "Thanks for that. He really needed to go."

Louis shrugged casually. "No worries, love. No one messes with my friends like that."

You felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, grateful for Louis' unexpected presence and unwavering support. "I owe you one, Lou."

He flashed you a warm smile. "Nah, we're friends now. That's what friends are for, right?"

Right, friends. But did you want to be just friends? Of course not. You didn't know how it happened so quickly, but you knew you had developed some romantic feelings for Louis.

"Lou?" Your voice wavered as you spoke, looking up at him with shy eyes.

"Hm?"

"I think I like you. I know we've only just gotten to know each other, but I like you, and I know you probably don't feel—" He cut off your rambling with a soft kiss on the lips, a smile spreading warmth across your face.

"What were you saying, hmm, love?" You gazed into his eyes, feeling a rush of courage. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, this time slower and deeper, savouring the moment as his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

"I like you too," he whispered against your lips, making you grin and kiss him harder. The world around you faded as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his body and the electric connection between you.

As you pulled away slightly, breathless and smiling, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"So, what now?" you asked, a playful glint in your gaze. Louis chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Now, we take it one day at a time, together." With that, he leaned in for another kiss, and in that moment, you realised this was just the start of something truly beautiful. He had become your safe haven, your sanctuary amidst the chaos.

—

This is my first fic on this app because I have no idea how to use it, and it needs more Louis fics. I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist and all that, but for now, I'm just going to leave this little thing here. :) P.S. This is my first fic ever, so please don't hate. Thanks! xD

Please send requests! <3

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb

Sirius Black x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (female receiving), soft!dom sirius, underage smoking, brief underage drinking, rough sex, pretty good sex imo, this all leads to a bigger plot i promise !!

summary: you’ve got a plan, and that plan starts with a simple shag with a simple man. sirius black.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i used two beautiful prompts from this beautiful account @eloquentmoon and they are as followed.

11. “Louder, let me hear you”

28. “I want to have my way with you”

i listened to fat bottomed girls by queen during this and god did it help. anyway, enjoy :)

~~~

If boys could be considered easy, Sirius Black would be the easiest boy in all of Hogwarts. To shag Sirius Black, a girl only needs to meet a short list of requirements. One, she must be fit. Two, she must not be a virgin. And three by far the most important, she must be desperate for Sirius Black.

That’s why he was the first on the list. He was the easiest.

~~~

You stare in the mirror for a few seconds. Everything seems alright. Your dress is tight, your makeup is done, and most of all your plan is set. You turn to your friend and gesture to yourself.

“You’re stunning, as always. I don’t get why you’ve been insisting on doing this. What’s the goal?” Your friend says.

“Some fun I suppose.” You look at the clock on the dorm's wall. “I better be going, parties not going to last forever. Neither is Mr. Black’s smoke break.”

“Have a good time then.”

You grab your purse and start for the door. “Will do. See you tomorrow.”

After a few minutes of walking, you find Mr. Black exactly where you predicted him to be. He’s sitting on one of the benches, a cigarette between his lips. You casually step out into the moonlight, your hand rummaging through your purse. An unlit cigarette is held between two of your fingers, you make a sound of disapproval as you continue pretending to search your bag.

“All right there miss?”

You look up from your bag and shake your head. “Forgot my wand in my dorm.” You pretend to just notice the cigarette between his lips. “Mind helping a lady out with a smoke?”

“Why of course,” he answers. He gestures for you to come closer, and you gladly comply. “But I’m going to need your name first.”

“Why’s that? All I’m asking for is a quick light,” you reply.

He smirks. “If you know mine, I feel it’s only polite to know yours.”

“I don’t know yours, so we’re even. Anyway, how about that light now?”

Without another word, he pulls out his wand. You stick the cigarette between your lips and lean down. He’s surprised, you can tell from the way his eyes shift. Nevertheless, he lights the end of your cigarette. You lean back and take a long breath of smoke. It feels all too familiar in your lungs. You take a step back and pull the cigarette from your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“Y/n y/l/n.”

“Pardon?”

You look down at him. “My name, it’s y/n y/l/n. I’m from Ravenclaw, probably why you haven’t heard of me.”

“I’m Sirius Black from Gryffindor,” he replies.

“Ah Gryffindor, that’s where I’m heading actually. Heard there’s a big party up there, why aren’t you there?” You ask, sticking the cigarette between your lips again.

He shrugs. “Needed a small break. ‘Suppose it’s a good thing, right? Or else you wouldn’t have that precious fag between your lips. Perhaps it’s fate.”

“I don’t believe in that nonsense.” You pretend to check your watch. “Seems like the time is flying by. I’ve got to run before all the firewhiskey is gone.”

You drop your cigarette to the ground and smoosh it with your boot. When your eyes meet his again, you’re happy to see the slight shift. He’s curious, you can tell. Good. Curious is good. You give him a small smile.

“Nice to meet you Sirius Black from Gryffindor, ‘suppose I’ll see you up there, till then,” you say, giving him a small wink before turning on your heels and starting for the doors.

“Nice to meet you too Y/n y/l/n from Ravenclaw!” You hear him call from behind, but you don’t acknowledge it.

Phase one is done.

It’s almost an hour later when the second phase begins. You’re dancing to the beat of Queen’s newest hit, your hips swaying in a way you hope is entrancing. One or two shots of firewhiskey have been down your throat already, and you’re tempted to reach for a third, but that’s when you see him.

He’s across the room, his dark eyes practically glued to you. Despite how much you’ve planned this moment, you can’t help the butterflies that take over your stomach. Sirius Black, one of the most popular boys in the school, wants you. You lick your lips and watch as he lifts his hand, gesturing to you to go to him like he had earlier in the night.

You inhale one last breath before beginning the walk to him.

It’s the last time you’ll walk straight for a day or two.

And so, phase three begins.

~~~

You gasp as your face meets one of the pillows on his bed. You try to get back up on all fours, but it feels nearly impossible. With one of Sirius’s hands presses down on the small of your back, while the other grips one of your hips you’re lucky your legs haven’t given out yet. He fucks you relentlessly, and you’ve never loved anything more.

“Fuck Sirius,” you moan, you can’t catch your breath. Your orgasm is close. “Sirius.”

“Louder, let me hear you.” His voice is like music to your ears. “Let them all hear you love.”

“ ’M gonna cum Sirius,” you say, a bit louder than your previous words. “Fuck I’m so close please don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

You cum a few seconds later, your whole body shaking as you do. Sirius doesn’t falter for even a moment, making your orgasm ten times more pleasurable. When you’re done, he pulls out and flips you over onto your back. Your eyes meet and you almost audibly moan.

How could someone be so bloody handsome?

He lowers himself so he’s on top of you, his body held up by his two hands placed on either side of your head. You wrap your arms around him, and as he thrusts inside you once again, you let your nails drag down his back. He kisses your neck sloppily, causing you to whimper.

“Have you never been shagged properly?”

You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. “I suppose not.”

“Something mustn’t be right because your pussy is by far one of the best I’ve ever had.” He presses himself so deep inside you, that you wince in pain. He’s reached your cervix. “So soft, so warm, so tight. In fact, I think I need a taste.”

He pulls out of you again and quickly kisses down your body, pausing only to suck hard on one of your nipples. After that, his tongue is on your stomach, your navel, your...

“Sirius, what are you-”

“I want to have my way with you.”

Your back arches as he begins to lick your clit. Your thighs clench around his head, and your hands move to his hair. You squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure almost too much for you to handle. He eats you out as if he’s been starved his entire life. His lips and tongue are so soft, so warm. Your second orgasm comes far quicker than the first.

“Perfect taste.”

He begins to crawl up your body, his mouth shining with your cum. You don’t hold yourself back from kissing him, in fact, you’re the one who initiates it. You love the taste of yourself on his lips, it’s one of the most attractive things you’ve ever encountered.

After a minute or two you push him down onto the bed and crawl on top of him. From the way he’s grinning up at you, to the way his gorgeous hair is sprawled out on the mattress, you can’t help the words that slip from your mouth.

“None of the gossips ever mentioned how empowering it is to have the great Sirius Black underneath you.”

He raised a brow. “I thought you didn’t know who I am.”

“I uh...” You give him a small smile and begin to move your hips back and forth, his cock sliding between your incredibly wet folds. “I knew you didn’t know my name, so I pretended not to know yours. To make it even.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the complete truth either.

Sirius’s eyes flutter shut, his hands moving to grip your hips. “I know your name now y/n y/l/n.”

“And you will remember it,” you reply. “Not like all those other girls whose names you forget the next morning.”

“Course not love.”

“It’s not a question.” You lift your hips and slowly begin to sink down on his cock. His fingers dig into your skin, you place your hands on his chest. “It’s a statement. I’m going to spell it out for you.”

You start to rock back and forth and up and down, just the way you know drives guys mad. Sirius is no different. Except, unlike the others, he doesn’t bother to hold back from moaning his approval. You lean down after a few minutes, so your lips are almost touching his ear, and with each movement of your hips, you say a letter of your name.

So, by the time you reach your third orgasm and Sirius reaches his first, your name is properly engraved in his head.

When everything is done and you’re both spent, he holds you in his arms. Your head rests on his chest, and you listen to his gentle heartbeat. The two of you share a cigarette in silence. It’s not uncomfortable in the slightest. Sirius Black has that effect on people.

As you stare at the wall you wonder how you’re supposed to move forward with the plan. You never expected such aftercare from the school player or such kindness during the shag. He’s a very giving lover, contrary to the popular belief that he’s simply another boy who enjoys using girls for his pleasure. You take one last long drag of the cigarette before handing it back to him and closing your eyes.

“I think I quite like you, y/n y/l/n,” he suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper.

This plan might be harder than you thought.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Lonely Nights

Requested: Yes [Are you willing to write toxic Ghost? Like after sex he just kinda leaves you to play on his xbox?]

Warnings: Lack of aftercare, inattentive partner

A/N: Gahhhhh, I was very hesitant about this one. I do think Simon can be very…..not great to partners, even ones he’s close with. Especially the ones he’s close with. I think he has a hard time registering his partner’s feelings and remembering the courtesies of aftercare. I think he’s more used to one night stands that he kicks out after he’s done with them, not people who put their whole hearts in his hands. You know? So he kinda just…..accidentally treats a partner like that because it’s what he knows.

Ghost has never been the most….in touch with his emotions and those of the people around him. Even yours, as close as you two might be. It’s just not something he really manages to do well. He tries, God knows he tries, but he just fails, time and time again. And you’re left to pick up the pieces of yourself that he broke off with every accidental pain he caused. And you know he doesn’t mean to, that he just doesn’t know how to do this, be in a normal relationship, a loving one, but you’re not sure how much more of this you can take.

This would be one of those times. You were hurting everywhere after he had been too rough with you, practically on the verge of tears when he finally rolled off of your sore body, snatching his pack of cigarettes and his old beaten up lighter from the nightstand before making his way out into the living room like he usually did. You were stunned, for lack of a better word. Shocked that he had actually left you like this. You knew he wasn’t the best at these things, but how could he not notice the state you were in? Your emotions? Your pain? How could-how could he just leave you like this? How could he be so oblivious to something so plain to see?

Your legs shake as you crawl out of Ghost’s bed, almost slipping and falling onto your ass in your attempts to get up, hobbling out to the living room with a thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You wanted to call out to your lover, beg him to come back to bed with you, but your throat felt like one big bruise and when you opened your mouth to speak, you could only wheeze.

And then you saw him, lounging half naked on the couch, cigarette in hand as he watched rugby on the tv. You knew he noticed you coming in, he always did. But just like all the other times, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge your existence, just taking a long drag from his fag before puffing the smoke out through his nose, looking all the part of a lazy dragon who’d just fattened himself up on some knight who died screaming in agony.

Whimpering, you stepped closer, silently begging for his attention and affection when you sat beside him on the couch, croaking quietly to him as you touched his arm. A twitch was all you received in response, having to manually wrap his arm around your shoulders for any kind of comfort. He didn’t pull away, but neither did he lean in, stroke you, pull you closer. He was dead weight around you, devoid of the affection you so desperately needed in this instant. With a whimper, deprived and needy, you lean in closer, nuzzling your head against his chest like a lonely kitten, trying to get even an ounce of his attention.

“Not now, Love.” Was all you got, Ghost’s cold hand sliding under your chin and lifting your head up and away from him. “Go back to bed if you’re feeling tired.”

Heartbroken, you try to protest but just end up coughing, hand clutching your pained throat to try and stifle the growing ache. That at least earned you a little rub on your back from Ghost but it ended all too soon for you, not even a word of protest from him as you stood and shuffled back to your shared room, his eyes laser focused on the tv the whole time, while yours kept hopefully glancing back at him, only to end up disappointed once more as the door shut behind you with no interruptions except for the tv turning up just a bit louder right before you started crying, curling up on the bed and seeking what little warmth remained under the covers, face buried in Simon’s pillow and hoping beyond hope that he’d come in and scoop you up into his arms, apologize for leaving you so hurt and sad, promise to never do it again.

But it never came. And you spent the whole night alone in that big bed until Ghost finally came back in, just the slightest bit tipsy as he crawled onto his side of the bed, giving you nothing more than the lightest kiss to your head before he was dozing off for the night.

And that. That was what broke you, your heart shattering in your chest and cracking the fragile dam that you’d built up against your tears. Through shaking shoulders and quiet sobs, you felt resolve sink into your bones.

You couldn’t take this anymore.

[metalomagnetic]

Any chance you can share an excerpt of the Harry/Sirius fic you have planned? 🥺

“That’s teenage years for you, kid; you’re always angry.”

Harry frowns. “You think that’s all there is to it?”

“Sure. I was that way, too.”

“Was?” Harry asks, and he’s finally smiling. A tiny thing, frail, but it’s a smile. “Seems like you’re still going through your teenage years, then.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Sirius swats him over the head, playfully.

The frail smile turns into a grin. There’s a mischievous side to Harry, buried deep under the trauma, the burden of being the Boy Who Lived.

Harry reaches for the bottle again. “Gross,” he shudders, making a face after he swallows. “Does it get better? The taste?”

“Eventually,” Sirius says, opening a second bottle, now that he relinquished the first to Harry. “You get used to it.”

He got Regulus drunk in this very room some twenty years before.

His mother sighs in his head. She sounds resigned.

“How about those?” Harry nods at the pack of cigarettes Mundungus snuggled in for Sirius. “Will you teach me?”

“Not much to teach,” Sirius says, giving Harry a fag, taking one for himself.

He lights them with his wand and tells Harry to breathe the smoke in.

Predictably, he chokes.

“Being a bad boy isn’t easy, Harry,” Sirius mocks.

“It’s disgusting,” Harry wheezes, still choking, but when he calms he tries again, to the same result.

By the time he finishes, Harry grows even paler, says he’s a bit dizzy.

How innocent he is; how young. Sirius remembers the first time he smoked, that dizziness Harry speaks of.

He was thirteen, and life was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Now he wishes he could go back to those times.

Would you abandon us again? If you could go back, would you still betray us? the voices demand.

“I’ll teach you to ride a bike,” Sirius promises. “Next summer. I’ll buy one. Miss riding, anyway.”

“Drinking, smoking, riding bikes, moping around in corners, being angry- what else is on the requirement list for being a bad boy?”

“I don’t mope around,” Sirius argues. “And never in corners. I brood in full view of everyone.”

Harry laughs. It might be the whiskey, but there’s some colour returning to his face. He almost looks alive.

He’ll die, eventually. Everyone around you dies, brother.

Regulus was always a spoilsport.

“Alright, alright. Brooding, then. What else?”

“Fucking,” Sirius says, just to embarrass him, and it works like a charm. Harry goes red, instantly. “Can’t be a bad boy if you don’t fuck around.”

Harry looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it stick out more than usual. It still doesn’t remind him of James.

When James did it, there was intention behind it. He liked his hair like that, and he knew some girls liked it, too.

When Harry does it, there’s nothing intentional about it. It screams of insecurity, something that wasn’t in James’ vocabulary.

“Well,” Harry says, so red he’s turning purple. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that, too.”

A warning rings in Sirius’ head.

Don’t poke at it, his mother advises him. Leave it be, Sirius.

Sirius never listened to her, so he won’t start now.

“You know girls that won’t mind your godfather joining you for a bit of fun?” Sirius teases. “Why, Harry, you’re already running with a bad crowd in that case.” Harry snorts, gulps more whiskey. “I barely know any girls at all,” he mumbles. “But I’m sure no girl would say no to you; it’s more likely they’ll protest to me, really.”

“First lesson,” Sirius says. “No self-depreciating jokes. No poor-me attitude. No one finds that attractive.”

“Well, that’s who I am,” Harry snaps, that temper of his rearing its head for a second.

“Even so, you hide that shit if you want to pull birds. Pretend you’re confident, even when you aren’t.”

“That’s wrong, though. Misleading someone, lying-”

“Bad boys lie all the time.”

Harry huffs. He slumps back into the couch. “Forget it. I can’t be a bad boy.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sirius agrees. “Plus, if you want to be really bad, you’d need to do some prison time. Not worth it, I assure you.”

“Being locked up in a cupboard doesn’t count?” Harry asks. “Did about ten years of that.”

[badhairred]

Taste my Anger

A little microfic made for this beautiful piece of art. This is dedicated to @spookeart for the art and @blackthornwine who actually gave me the idea in the first place. Thank you for putting this in my head and enjoy this little gift🤍🤍

Moonwater - 1632 words - tags: Regulus/Remus, Post prank anger, smoking, shotgun.

“For once in your life, Sirius, think about someone else than bloody you! You hurt people, you are cruel when you want to be and don’t go saying you didn’t want to because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have,” Remus bristles, hands balled into fists, his blood boiling and the pencil the bag that had been hanging loosely off his shoulder had flown open and papers where scattered around them. James looks at Remus with wide, horrified eyes, and Peter is looking between him and Sirius, who looks as white as a ghost, like he is following a very tense match of chess. “I am done!”

“Moony, I–”

“No,” Remus whirls back around, his curls sparking at the ends as his magic gets away from him. It has been such a long time since he hasn’t been in control of his magic, the wolf in his chest coming out even when he’s in human form and bringing out the worst of him. “Don’t call me that, fuck off Sirius. Truly. Fuck. Off.”

Sirius doesn’t try again when Remus turns on his heel and stomps around the corner. He doesn’t know where exactly he is going. He just needs to run, get away, calm the fuck down. Fumbling in his pocket he fishes for a cigarette, lighting it with a snap of his fingers –which might not have been the best idea because half of the cigarette burns up already from the intensity of the magic– before taking a long drag.

Luckily there is no one in the hallway, seeing as it’s dinner time and everyone is down in the great hall. His feet carry him without him actually giving them directions. There are two stairs, another corridor, a corner, and a hidden passage up another winding staircase. He just walks. Moving, for the sake of getting away.

James can try and play the peace broker all he wants, Remus will never forgive Sirius. The guy might act all high and mighty, the first to be brave instead of cunning but there is enough poison in him to still be a snake. He betrays his friends so easily for his own gain, bullying for his own amusement and being cruel just because he can get away with it by swishing his insane hair or flashing that million-gallon smile. No more. Remus is done.

When he puts out the fag at the bottom of his shoe and reaches for the next, he realises he has finally reached a corridor he recognises. In his blind fury, he had just let his subconscious guide him and it clearly needed to find itself to a place no one knows about. He sinks down on the windowsill of the empty corridor on the fifth floor that ends in a dead end and so is rarely visited by other students –or teachers.

Reaching in his backpack Remus is suddenly grateful for his wolf, who had been so on edge because of the whole ordeal already that Remus had the clearance of mind to stuff his weed, baccy and long rolling paper in the bottom of the pack, hidden under his parchments and quills.

Absemindedly he goes into autopilot and starts rolling the spliff while he leans his head against the open window. The cold autumn air greets him like little shards cutting his skin and he revels in the feeling as he watches over the ground. The sun has already gone down behind the mountains on the other side of the black lake and the ground is quickly getting doused in darkness. The ripple of the wind makes the tops of the trees of the forbidden forest move like a sea of dark green, while the smoke from Hagrid’s hut crinkles into the sky.

Remus takes a deep sigh, letting the sereneness of the dawn wash over him. His breathing returns to normal while his hands have frozen in their action of rolling the spliff when his eyes fall on the shadow of the lonely, big willow tree. Its branches move against the wind faster than should be possible and when a bird that is trying to find shelter for the night gets a little too close it nearly escapes the clutches of the violent tree.

The Whomping Willow.

The tree was supposed to protect Remus during his transformation, it was supposed to be his secret and his burden to bear. Shaking his head he adverbs his gaze and pushes the feelings of rage that resurface back down. Sirius is a stuck-up prick, he thinks Remus will always cave in the end, forgive him when he comes up with weak excuses and bring up his family.

“What are you doing here?”

Remus looks up from the finish spliff in his hand. Speaking of the devil. Regulus is looking down at him, arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted. The permanent scowl on Regulus Black’s face doesn’t make the boy less attractive.

“What’s it look like?” Remus retorts, holding up the unlid spliff in his hand before bringing it to his lips and keeping eye contact with his fellow prefect as he lits the thing and takes a drag. Daring.

Regulus’ eyes shoot from the burning tip to Remus’ eyes and back down to his lips where the smoke is just escaping into the air. There is a calculating look in his sharp green eyes and Remus feels like he is biting back a million questions.

The day has been shit. Well, to be honest, the last two weeks have been shit and Remus is just mad enough to take any chance to piss off his friends at this point. “Wanna hit?”

Regulus’ eyes widen and he uncrosses his arms as he scales Remus up, trying to figure out if he is sincere.

“Where’s your following?”

Remus scoffs. “I don’t have a following.”

As he moves to come to stand in front of Remus Regulus lets out a scoff. “Oh yes, my bad, it’s my brother’s following.” Remus tries to keep his expression blank but something must slip through the cracks because he is treated of the rare sight of Regulus smirking. “What’s that? Trouble in paradise?”

“You wanna smoke or not?” Remus asks him, avoiding the question and holding the spliff up to the younger Black.

Regulus looks like he wants to keep prodding about the situation but he seems to decide against it. He eyes the spliff again and an uncertainty flickers over his face. “I never–”

“Didn’t think you had,” Remus chuckles darkly. “Come here.” Remus is toeing a dangerous line but he doesn’t care at this point. The haze in his mind from the drags he had taken himself is just enough to justify how he reaches his arm around Regulus and tucks him closer. He watches how his breath catches and wonders why the younger one is here at that moment.

“Why are you here?”

“I come here sometimes,” Regulus admits after a beat of silence. “To think.”

“Mhm,” Remus nods, looking up, seeing the slightest hint of freckles on his face he had never seen before, only visible when you get up close to the boy. “Tilt your head up a little.”

And to Remus’ astonishment, Regulus obeys the instruction. Remus doesn’t know why Regulus wants to be alone, or what he wants to think about but the fact that he so easily follows Remus’ instructions, no back talking, no jokes or snide remarks. Just a tilted head, coming close to his, waiting for the next thing that is going to happen.

With the smoke in his mouth, Remus leans in and uses his thumb to open up Regulus’ mouth before he leans in and lets the smoke billow out, landing on the other’s tongue. “Inhale.”

Regulus does, taking a sharp breath and letting the smoke reach his lungs. He doesn’t cough or lean away. His expression is still saying nothing but his eyes, it’s those emerald greens that tell Remus how much Regulus needed this. Maybe just as much as he.

“Your brother can be an utter fucking dickhead,” Remus sighs out, leaning back just the tiniest bit, keeping his eyes trailed on Regulus’ who looks at him as if he is trying to read his mind.

“Don’t I know it,” the boy answers. He tilts his head up, crooking it a bit to the side resulting in Remus’ hand falling from his chin. “Want to piss him off?” Remus only nods as Regulus points his eyes to the spliff. He inhales once more and instead of him guiding Regulus it’s Regulus who lays his hand on Remus’ cheeks, bringing him to his mouth.

Remus would have choked on the smoke if it was still in his mouth when Regulus closes his lips around Remus’ in earnest. The smoke is shared between them as their tongues come together in the sweetest yet most passionate kiss Remus had ever experienced. He keeps the spliff out of their way, not to burn the younger boy by accident as he tightens his grip on Regulus’ waist. The feeling of Regulus’ cold rings against his skin only adds to all the feelings that course through his body.

Where his blood had been boiling before from rage it was now set ablaze by this single kiss.

Regulus breaks away, leaning back and opening his eyes with a flutter of his lashes. Remus stares back at the boy who is not saying anything before he steps out of the embrace and takes the spliff from Remus’ hand to take a slow drag. Before Remus can wrap his mind around what just happened he is looking at Regulus’ retreating back.

“Black!” Remus calls after him and Regulus turns his head around with a smirk.

“See you, Lupin. Thanks for the hit.”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#381

“Wakey wakey.  Time to wake up….  Don’t try to move around too much.  As you are realizing, you are in a predicament.  You are lying in my basement, buck naked, tied up, gagged, collared, with a fuck pillow under your pelvis.  You ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon….

“We’ve never met, but we know each other.  We both do the same thing for work, but we are nothing alike.  This is what’s happening.  I am part of a nameless organization that takes faggots, trains them to be slaves, and sells them to buyers from around the world.  From what I’ve been told over the years, the faggots delivered to me want to drop off the grid and sold into slavery.  They turn themselves in to a collector, who then has them delivered to me.  I don’t know if that’s true as I don’t let any of the faggots talk other than to say, ‘Yes Sir!’ 

“Now for you, I was told your backstory.  It seems that you are a collector for a different kind of group.  I train fags who offer themselves up for the taking.  You seem to prefer the non-consensual abductions of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls.  I don’t care that you prefer pussy over dicks, but I do draw the line with their age.

“As I said, I was told what you are.  That never happens.  Ever.  But it appears that you approached the ten-year-old niece of one of higher ups in the organization, and he recognized what and who you were.  That stupid move brought you here. 

“I have no idea who the higher up is nor do I care.  Hell, we don’t know any of the men that are in the other parts of my organization, let alone hear from them.  So I found it surprising to get a call from a higher up—who I haven’t heard from in a few years—that I am to train you personally.  You better fucking believe that I’m going to train the fuck out of you.

“I have been training faggots for nearly forty years.  This is my farm you are on.  Twelve hundred acres.  Twelve hundred acres with some of the most advanced surveillance and anti-escape deterrents.  I know of every person who steps foot on my property, and I know if a slave is ten feet away from where it is supposed to be.  The ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and collar have tracking devices in them.  The collar can deliver a shock to keep you in line at a moment’s notice.  And the ankle cuffs are set up that if you go beyond a certain perimeter, a numbing agent is injected causing your legs to go numb and become useless.  Escape is not possible.  In my twenty years at this location, I have only had one slave make it off property, but it was collected within three minutes of doing so.  That slave was brought back and tortured in front of all the other slaves as a deterrent.  And that was before all the tracking technology was put in.  So keep that in mind if you decide to do something stupid.

“Now,… for the past five minutes, I have been telling you the predicament you find yourself in.  I have been watching your reaction.  Being gagged, you can’t say anything, but your body language says it all.  You seem too calm and not surprised at the description of my organization.  No reaction really.  That tells me that you are familiar with an operation like this.  When I tell you that you were collected for stalking that niece, you don’t look shocked by that accusation.  That pretty much confirms what I was told,… not that it matters otherwise. 

“No, the only reaction I saw was when I tell you that I am going to do your training.  You looked panicked.  Your eyes went right to my bulge.  Oh yeah.  I noticed.  You are straight indeed.  I should say, ‘were straight.’  From this moment on, you will never go back to that life.  The only cunt in your future is the one I’m about to make out of this hole between your legs.

“You have a great ass, so flawlessly smooth.  On any other slave, this ass would be a huge selling feature.  But for you, it’s a source of pain.  I need to put out my cigarette somewhere.  Your asscheek is the best place to do it….  Scream motherfucker scream.  Your perfect ass is going to go through some changes, from being daily whipped to being used as an ashtray.  You are going to be scarred up for sure.

“For the next part, I need to take off my boots and get out of these overalls.  You are going to get acquainted with Otto.  That’s what some of the fag slaves and some of the trainers call my dick.  Otto, it means ‘eight’ in Italian.  I’m actually closer to nine inches, but nine in Italian is ‘Nove’ which doesn’t sound right.  It doesn’t roll over the tongue as nicely as Otto.  Hehe.

“Look up at me.  Look shithead!  Here’s Otto.  Look at the cock that is going to own your life.  Half hard, it’s bigger than yours.  Keep staring at my foreskin.  Otto needs to piss.  You will be trained on drinking piss.  That’s all the liquid you will be given.  And if you are wondering if that means that you will be trained on becoming a full toilet, let me say we stopped training our slaves on that a while back.  It was too time consuming, and the buyers weren’t interested in that feature.  But for you, the higher ups want you trained.  But that will have to wait.

“Are you…  you are…!  You’re crying!  About time!  Hold still.  Let me wash away those tears for you.  Piss is the best antidote to tears.  There’s no feeling in the world like starting to tear down a once proud man by simply pissing on his face.  It’s getting me hard.  Otto likes what he’s doing to you.  But he wants action.

“Normally, you would be sucking the last few drops out of my foreskin.  But I ain’t ungagging you yet.  Besides, Otto needs to turn a virgin ass into a gaping cunt. 

“Your hole is perfectly displayed, like it’s ready to be destroyed thanks to that fuck pillow and how wide your legs were spread and secured.  Oh look.  Your cock and balls are just hanging there,… exposed,…

“…Damn! Even with my bare feet, I can deliver one hell of a ball kick.  Ha! Ha!  Your screams mean everything to me.  You know, each and every one of my personal slaves are kicked in the balls every morning.  They need to be reminded of their place on a daily basis. 

“Now, you will be spared that daily torture.  And that’s not because I would never have you as my personal slave, and don’t worry I wouldn’t own such trash.  No, I’m going to castrate you, in one of the most painful ways.  I haven’t decided how yet.  I do know that I will leave your empty sack intact.  We have a urologist that will make changes to your dick so that you lose all ability to get hard and with a few snips to the nerves in the area, all physical sensation will be gone.  Essentially your dick will constantly just hang there and be utterly useless… other than to piss out of.  Every time you reach down there, you will only feel the shell of what you used to be.

“Awww you’ve done full on sob.  Here let me collect some of your tears.  Tears of cunts are the best lube. 

“Do you feel Otto at your hole?  Feel his weight in your crack?  He’s ready to go.  Can you feel his leak.  Lucky for you, you really got me leaking.  Feel that wetness?  That’s all you.  Virgin cunt meets wine bottle thick dick.

“Don’t fucking start resisting.  Your cherry is going to be popped.  Here goes. 

“Don’t fucking fight me.  It’s only going to be more painful for you.  You are making my dick even harder.

“LET ME IN!  I’m coming in.  Oh, you got my head.  You are really starting to piss me off.

“Urg!  There.  Normally I would let a cunt relax before I begin, but you don’t fucking deserve that.  Right to the… goddamned… root!  Fuck, you’re tight.  By the end of tonight, you will be a gaping mess. 

“Not only have I been lucky to have such a big dick, but I can cum multiple times a night.  My first load is always quick, but the second one goes on for hours.  Then I have a gang bang lined up for this cunt. 

“I’ll let someone else pop the cherry in your throat.  There’s no way I’m going to let Otto near your mouth, at least not while you still have a mouthful of teeth.  Oh yeah, those will be coming out as part of your transformation.

“Keep crying.  Oh man.  Oh fuck.  I’m getting close.  You ready to be bred?  You ready to make your transformation to cunt complete?  Here it cums.  Here it goddamned cums!  Ahh! Ahh! Fuuuuck!

“Holy shit!  That was… fuck. 

“Your cunt has one of my biggest loads in it.  That should help lubricate you up a bit for round two….  Don’t try to push me out.  Otto will come out when he wants to.  Right now, he just wants a minute to catch his breath.

“Cunt, you have nothing but hell ahead of you.  There will be no let up.  Today is about breaking you in.  Tomorrow will begin your life of pain.  We have a shitload planned for you.  I don’t know how long it will be for you to with us, but each day we will strip away what made you a man, a human. 

“You know, when we put a slave up for auction, we have transformed the fag into the best slave it could be.  We don’t do it for its wellbeing.  No, we want top dollar.  And we get top dollar.  That’s our reputation.

“But for you, I was given the instruction that your transformation should be so extreme that when you are put up for auction, without a reserve price, that you are so repulsively distorted that you are sold for the lowest amount we ever had for a slave.  That shouldn’t be a problem with all the branding, scarification, tattooing, deteething, and so on.  Your previous profession will be shared with your new owners so that they can keep up your hell. “Oh fuck.  All this talk of your pathetic life is getting me hard again.  I’m ready to begin round two.  This should last a few hours.”