#nearly 27 club

[fadeintothestarlight]

TW: Drug abuse, addiction, suicide.

What do you do when fentanyl didn't even kill you? Like how many times do I have to try before I get it right?.. How many more years can I take?

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

When she first told me about how she would sing along to the B-52's singing love shack

I was a little taken back but I also realized my music knew to send her to me

Me when she tells me: 😏

[blackmoonowl]

prompt 27 with mammon if i may

"𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦!"

ꨄ Pairing: Mammon x reader

ꨄ Summary: Jealous Mammon hours.

ꨄ Word Count: 1302 words

Mammon could give Leviathan a run for his money when it came to jealousy. Well, over you, anyway.

So, when he had the chance to pull you away to an event, just together, he took it without thinking. The avatar of Greed knocked on your door multiple times.

"Oi, human!" The demon called out, opening the door without waiting for a reply. You had just gotten ready when he practically burst through the door.

"Yeah, yeah." You grumbled as you put on your shoes, walking over to him. "So, what's the big deal, you're going out to gamble again and need a cover from Lucifer?"

"Oi, I don't need a human protectin' me from Lucifer. The great Mammon does just fine on his own!" Mammon's cheeks heated up as he huffed, averting his gaze. "We're goin' out on the town, you and me."

"So, you earned some money with your schemes?" You teased, giving him a little nudge as you followed him out into the hall. Mammon rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, shrugging off your comment. He had to get you out of the house without his brothers noticing. Luckily, he had taken care of it already. Sneaking out wouldn't be the hard part.

"Say what ya want, but the Great Mammon invited you, and ya can't say no! Now c'mon before the others find out we're goin' out. I ain't in the mood to have 'em tag along."

"Where are we even going?" You questioned as Mammon kept his eyes peeled, tuned into the silence around the house.

"I ain't tellin', it's a surprise," was all you got as a reply from him. Mammon unlocked the front door, ushering you out before following you and shutting the door again, Mission successful, he had you all to himself tonight.

Although it was always dark in the Devildom, the nights were much darker. Your footsteps sounded steady next to his. Despite the lack of light, Mammon still wore his sunglasses, his eyes safely hidden behind them. He had mustered up the courage to demand you hold his hand, so you wouldn't get lost. Mammon knew you didn't buy that excuse; you had been to the Devildom quite often after all. The avatar of greed swallowed thickly as he glanced down to where your fingers were laced with his. The club he'd been meaning to visit with you wasn't too far away. But with his heart practically beating out of his chest, it felt like forever.

When he finally stepped foot in the building, among the flashing lights and loud music, he nearly felt at home. Demons were drinking, dancing and flirting among each other.

"This is what you wanted to show me?" You questioned, glancing around the space. Mammon stood proud beside you, nodding excitedly.

"Yeah, this place just opened a couple weeks back, figured I might as well show ya," he grinned as he put his arm around your shoulder. "Just you and me, without any of my annoyin' brothers here to bother us."

"I guess it has its charm," you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the music. "I'll give it a shot."

Mammon grinned when you gave in. "I knew ya would cave. I know what you like, bein' your first and all!"

You shot him a look at that comment. You had gotten used to it at this point, but it still caught you off guard every now and then. Mammon didn't seem bothered in the slightest, flashing you a grin before disappearing into the crowd, likely to get the both of you some drinks.

You decided to quickly head to the bathroom, seeing as Mammon would probably keep every second of your time occupied once he came back. It was less crowded there, making you feel more at ease.

Once you exited the bathroom and made your way to the main area, you almost ran into another demon. He looked properly buzzed, a glass of demonus held in his hand. The demon took a moment to stabilize himself, flashing you a grin as you awkwardly walked past him, stumbling over your feet in the commotion.

"Whoa there, easy," he chuckled, leaning on the doorframe for extra support, catching your arm so he could gently hoist you back up. He seemed clearly interested, yet there was no real malicious intent in his demeanour.

"Thanks, sorry about that, didn't see you there," you muttered, slightly embarrassed. The demon shook his head, smiling still.

"Don't sweat it, though I'd like to think I'm hard to miss." He gave you a wink and brushed his hand through his dark hair, causing you to snort slightly. The demon peered at you with narrowed eyes. "Wait a minute... I recognize you. You're that human, aren't ya?"

"In the flesh," you responded, causing him to smile wider. The demon shook his head slightly.

"How'd I not notice that sooner.. lucky me, you're like a celebrity out here," the demon mumbled, looking at his empty cup. "Hey, how about I buy you a drink. Y'know, for peace sake and all that."

You didn't get a chance to respond when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. There stood Mammon, looking like he could just fly at the other demon. Your smile faded; this wasn't going to end well.

"Oi, whaddya think you're doin', this is my human, go get your own!" Were the first words that came out of Mammon's mouth. The demon you had been talking to raised his brow, still leaned on the doorframe.

"Damn, I didn't know humans could be owned, last time I checked you're the one on a leash," the demon grinned. That only seemed to anger Mammon further as he stood right behind you now, allowing you feel his hot breath on your ear.

"Oh now you're really in for it! Don't ya know who I am?" Mammon snapped, placing his hand on your shoulder to try and nudge you aside. Although you were much weaker as a human, you stayed put, pushing back.

The other demon opened his mouth to speak but you shot him a look, and he wisely kept his words to himself. Mammon was still pissed, though. When you wouldn't budge, he hissed.

"Move away from the door and let me at him!" The demon's possessive growl sounded, but you shook your head. By now a few other demons were looking, though none of them were keen to call attention to themselves when it came to one of the seven rulers of the underworld.

"Don't make me use the pact," you gritted your teeth at Mammon, causing the demon to finally relent. With one final death glare at the other demon, he pulled you with him. You showed the demon an apologetic smile as you went.

"What was that for?" you huffed at the demon as the two of you stepped outside. Mammon didn't seem remorseful in the least, crossing his arms.

"What do ya mean? He was eyein' you like a piece of candy, what was I supposed to do?" Mammon grumbled, and you sighed.

"No need to be so jealous, Mammon, you'll still always be my favorite demon." you replied, ruffling the demons hair, who gently swatted your hand away, rolling his eyes, although he couldn't feel the fuzzy feeling welling up in him.

"I better be," he mumbled, causing you to crack a slightly smile, tilting your head to the side.

"Night's still young, why don't we spend more time together?" you offered. "Y'know, to show you there's nothing to be jealous of."

Mammon pursed his lips, seemingly thinking. But you both knew he was going to take the chance without hesitation, he always did. A small grin appeared on his face.

"Damn right we will, c'mon. I know another place."

𓅓 Masterpost

𓅓 Consider supporting me! (Ko-fi)

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

can you do one where kylian can’t stop touching reader?

Clingy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where he can't let you go

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 5.2k

Warnings! FLUFF, Drunk!Kylian, he's super cute and sweet in this one, suggestive words but no smut, special Ashraf Hakimi appearance, I think that's it

It's 2:27 AM and you're getting tired.

You glance at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, rereading Kylian’s last text from hours ago: "Don’t wait up, bébé. I’ll be home late. Love you."

You huff, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debate texting him again. You trust him completely, he’s out with Ashraf and some of the other guys on the team—but it's getting really late and he's usually home by now.

You sigh and toss the phone aside, deciding to just close your eyes and wait for him to get home.

The TV plays softly in the background, the sound filling the quiet living room as you lay curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of Kylian’s oversized hoodies. The faint smell of his cologne lingered on the fabric, giving you the slightest comfort as you fight the pull of sleep.

Just as your eyelids start to droop, a sharp knock at the door jolts you awake.

Frowning, you sit up.

Kylian has his keys—he wouldn’t knock.

Your heart skips a beat as you approach the door cautiously, the soft glow of the hallway light spilling through the crack underneath.

The knocking grows louder, and you can hear a muffled voice saying something, but you can't hear what it said.

Then the person knocks again.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer it, and then you hear that voice again.

This time it's louder and clearer.

"Y/N! Come on, open up! He can’t walk!"

Ashraf Hakimi.

Confused, you pull the hoodie tighter around you, shuffling closer to the door and peering through the peephole. On the other side, you see Ashraf Hakimi holding a stumbling, clearly wasted, Kylian upright.

You quickly undo the lock and yank open the door.

“Thank fuck,” Hakimi exhales, voice heavy with relief and exasperation the second you pull the door open.

He looks as though he’s just run a marathon, his expression caught somewhere between amused and desperate, clearly eager to pass Kylian off to you. His hand tightens briefly on Kylian’s shoulder as if to keep him upright for just a few more seconds.

“Kylian?” you ask, your voice gentle but laced with confusion, eyes flicking between the two of them.

At the sound of your voice, Kylian’s head lolls forward like a puppet with its strings cut, only to jerk back up a moment later, his eyes brightening as he zeroes in on you.

“Bébé!” he cries out, his tone so boyishly elated it makes your heart clench, the way it always does when he looks at you like you hung the stars. Your name slurs off his tongue, a little wobbly, but it’s accompanied by the sweetest, most dazzling smile that spreads across his face like a sunrise, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

Your stomach dips in response, a warmth blooming in your chest that you can’t quite fight. For a moment, you forget the situation entirely, caught in the spell of how devastatingly soft he looks right now.

But before you can say another word, Kylian shrugs out of Hakimi’s grip with an unsteady lurch, his body tilting as though gravity itself is trying to take him down. He stumbles toward you in a half-drunk stagger, arms already reaching out like he’s afraid you might disappear.

You barely manage a surprised gasp as he throws himself at you, his weight nearly knocking you off balance. His arms wrap around your neck in a vice-like grip, his broad frame warm and solid against you despite the way he sways.

He smells like the club—of sweat, alcohol, and something fruity—and you don't even have to look at him to know that his skin is hot, flushed from the alcohol that’s coursing through his body like molten lava.

You can feel the heat of him, seeping into you through the thin layer of fabric between you.

Then he presses a kiss to your hairline—a messy, clumsy press of lips that lingers far too long to be neat but feels oddly reverent nonetheless.

“Je t'aime, bébé, tellement” he mumbles, the words thick with alcohol and affection as they spill against your temple, his breath warm on your skin. “I missed you so much. I’m home.”

His voice is soft, almost childlike, and it strikes something tender in you. Your heart melts all over again, the tension in your body slipping away as you sigh and hug him back.

“I love you too, baby,” you murmur, your tone light but edged with concern as you adjust your grip around his waist, steadying him against you.

You glance over his shoulder to where Hakimi stands, his arms crossed as he chuckles and shakes his head at you. "The man's in love,” he says with a snort, as though that explains everything.

You frown, slightly more concerned now than confused. “Did something happen?” you ask, brows furrowing as your eyes narrow at Hakimi. “How drunk is he?”

Hakimi shakes his head, an expression that’s caught somewhere between amusement and frustration crossing his face. "He's been asking for you all night," he tells you, a note of apology creeping into his tone. "And I’m pretty sure he’s more gone than he should be. We tried to get him to eat, but…” He trails off, hands lifting in a gesture of surrender that’s both helpless and fond.

You sigh, eyes flicking to where Kylian nuzzles against you, his grip as tight as ever despite the fact that his eyes are already drooping in the middle of a long exhale, his head lolling back into the curve of your shoulder. His arms tighten around you again in an uncoordinated jerk, his mouth finding your neck for another sloppy kiss.

“Alright. Thanks for briging him home” you reply, nodding, lips pressing into a thin line as you meet Hakimi’s gaze. “Are you okay to drive? Do you want me to call you an Uber?”

Hakimi’s smile is quick and bright, his mouth curling at the corners as he waves you off. “It’s fine,” he replies with a quick headshake. “My driver is waiting outside. But I’ll call you tomorrow to check in, yeah?” The question is directed at you but his eyes move to Kylian.

You nod, smiling softly, "Yeah, okay.”

“Alright, goodnight,” he calls out, tipping his chin at you both.

The front door shuts behind him seconds later, and you shift Kylian more fully into your arms as you turn to carry him inside.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you inside.”

Kylian doesn’t reply, just nuzzles his face further into the crook of your neck, his lips finding your skin and pressing a kiss there, the stubble on his cheek scratching you gently.

You make it to the couch without any mishaps, sinking onto the worn cushion with him still in your arms, his heavy weight solid against you. You hold him there for a few minutes, running a soothing hand up and down his back as he shudders, his whole body vibrating with the force of his emotions.

“Hey,” you try to reassure him, your tone soft and calm, “what happened?”

“Just…just so happy,” he mumbles after a minute, his tone utterly euphoric. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you tell him again, smiling as you tip your head to meet his eyes. They’re glassy and bright, swimming with emotion, and you feel a little tug in your chest.

“I know,” he breathes out, smile softening. “I just… I miss you when we’re apart, okay? That’s all. I'm sorry I'm-I'm always g-gone.” He slurs and hiccups as he says the last part.

Your heart tugs in your chest, and you nod, reaching up to smooth his hair. “I know, it's okay” you tell him. “I miss you too.”

He hums in response, the noise soft and low in his chest. For a moment he simply nuzzles his cheek against your palm, his eyes drifting shut as he relaxes back into your arms.

But then a few seconds later, his eyes flutter open again. He's still smiling at you, his mouth tipped up in a goofy grin. “Bébé,” he murmurs again, voice husky and affectionate, his eyes squinting adoringly at you.

“Yeah?” you prompt after a minute, because he just stares at you for long seconds like he can’t look away.

“T'es vraiment belle, tu sais? I'm so lucky.” His voice drops, grows quiet as he speaks.

You feel a flutter in your chest, but then you shake your head, your lips twitching into a smile. “Kylian, bébé, you’re drunk, let’s go to bed” you say instead, dodging the topic.

Kylian’s face scrunches up for a moment as though he doesn’t understand what you're saying. Then his eyebrows rise, and his mouth falls open.

He looks affronted, the picture of scandalized drunkenness. “Non!” he protests, voice loud and outraged as though you've suggested something truly heinous. “I don’t wanna sleep! I wanna…” His brows furrow. He frowns for a moment, as though he can't remember what he wants.

Then his eyes light up. “I wanna fuck you,” He rasps the words against your skin, nuzzling his face into your neck with another long exhale.

He tries to move his mouth up to yours, but misses by a good few centimeters, his lips pressing against the hollow of your throat instead.

Your breath catches at the feel of his mouth on you, his warm lips dragging against your skin.

But you shake yourself out of the daze that threatens to pull you under at his touch, reaching down to cup his chin and tip his head back until he's staring up at you once again. His eyes are glazed, his cheeks pink, and his lips look swollen.

He looks like he wants to devour you whole.

But instead of giving in, you try again, your smile soft but firm. “Baby, you're drunk,” you repeat.

He shakes his head. “Non! I'm not” He repeats his protest, his voice adamant and thick with a slur. "I just…” He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes drop from yours to stare at your mouth.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips in an unconscious gesture that makes your stomach flip in your abdomen. Then his eyes move back up to yours and his face crumples, the look of pure distress on his features making you chuckle.

“Bébé, s’il vous plaît?” he begs. “J'ai besoin de toi. Je suis tellement…” His voice is anguished, like he's holding himself back. the strain in his tone making your breath catch. “I want you so bad, tresor,” he slurs. “so bad.”

He leans forward then, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, his eyes dark and intense as they find yours.

“Je t'aime tellement, it hurts, bébé,” he confesses, his words a messy slur of French and English that make your breath catch. He's not making any sense but you understand him.

You nod, but his arms tighten around you, and he nuzzles your neck, planting sloppy kisses along your jaw. "I love you, you know that? You’re my everything. Mon cœur."

"Yes, I know," you say, cupping his face to look him in the eye. His chocolate-brown gaze is glassy, but the sincerity in his words melts you. "I love you too, but you need water. And maybe food. Come on, let's get you something to eat. "

His brows draw together at first, a flicker of thought crossing his face, but then a wide, knowing smirk spreads across his lips, lighting up his features in a way that makes your heart stutter. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with heat. His gaze, dark and smoldering, locks onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “I am hungry,” he continues, leaning just a little closer, his tone laced with wicked intent. “For you.”

You let out a long-suffering sigh, though the way your lips twitch betrays your amusement. “Kylian…” you begin, your voice edged with a mix of exasperation and fondness.

“Oui?” he interjects smoothly, cutting you off before you can even finish. His eyes, impossibly large and impossibly dark, seem to glitter with mischief as he looks at you, completely unfazed by your scolding tone. For a moment, you falter, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his expression.

“Come on,” you manage at last, your voice softening despite yourself. You shake your head, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “Let’s get you food first, then we’ll get you to bed.” You’re firm but your voice is more gentle than you intended, your gaze soft on him.

Kylian beams up at you like you’re the sun itself, and nods, his expression serious as he tries to pull back. But he ends up swaying a little, his legs tangled in yours and his arms around your neck. His eyebrows draw together, and he looks a bit dizzy for a minute.

But then he swallows hard and tries again, managing to untangle himself with a huff. This time, his smile is sheepish when he meets your eyes. “Whatever you say, bébé.”

“Okay,” you say with slight chuckle. You shift out of his arms, standing as you offer him your hand.

Kylian takes it with a warm smile, rising to his feet unsteadily. The action seems to take a lot out of him—he staggers a little on the way up, his knee bumping your thigh. And when he’s finally standing, his hand grips yours tight, as though he needs your support to keep himself upright.

You nod at him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before leading him into the kitchen.

He trails behind you like a lost puppy, following you without question and looking vaguely disoriented whenever you glance back at him.

When you reach the kitchen, you slide onto one of the stools, gesturing for him to take the one across from you.

“Sit down and let me get you something,” you instruct. You nod at the stool opposite, watching as he lowers himself into it, his movements slow and clumsy.

“Merci, bébé,” he mumbles as his back hits the stool, a look of relief crossing his face.

You smile at him warmly as you turn toward the fridge. “You’re welcome,” you tell him, opening the door to peer inside.

He's silent for a minute, watching you with a sort of childlike fascination. Then, when you bend down to pull out the eggs, his voice calls out again.

"Nice ass,” he says, his tone full of appreciation. "You have the best ass." He slurs the words, sounding more than a little drunk and awed.

You let out a startled laugh at that, your hand stalling in its reach for the pan. Your head tips up to meet his gaze, your smile stretching wide across your lips.

"Thank you," you tell him with a chuckle, cheeks flushing lightly at his praise.

But he just laughs, his face alight with a radiant grin. His voice takes on an almost conversational quality, like you're not standing in your kitchen at 2:53 in the morning talking about your ass. “Do you know how many times I've jacked off to it?” he asks, sounding utterly sincere. His brow furrows. “Maybe hundreds?”

Your breath catches, and you let out another laugh, a little more helpless this time. Your body flushes, heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble a bit with the pan, your gaze darting to his to gauge his reaction. His eyes are wide and earnest, his grin still soft on his face as he watches you.

You shake your head, the motion a little helpless. “Kylian,” you say again, letting out another laugh as you try to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

But instead of relenting, he just grins harder, his expression one of pure adoration. “What? It's the truth, bébé!” He leans forward, his elbows hitting the counter as he braces his body with his arms, his gaze still fixed intently on you. “You're so beautiful, I just want to eat you up,” he mumbles then, his tone filled with a thick slur and a wealth of affection.

Your face burns, and you try to look away, but it's hard to ignore the way his voice makes you feel. Like you're the only person in the world.

“Baby…” you try to chide him, but he's having none of it.

“I’m serious,” he protests, his brow furrowing in a scowl as he slides off his stool. He sways a little as he makes his way over to you, but you barely have time to register his movement before he's sliding his arms back around your waist, his chest warm against your back. “You have no idea, do you?” he asks, his breath a gentle caress on your neck as his lips find the slope of your shoulder.

Your stomach tenses under his grip, but your hands pause in their reach for the eggs, your body leaning back into his. “No idea about what?” you murmur softly.

His arms tighten around your middle, squeezing you gently against him as his nose nudges your hair out of the way. You can feel his breath against your neck as he inhales, his lips skating across your skin with a featherlight touch.

“How gorgeous you are,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice warm and thick. He exhales again, the air drifting against your skin in a caress that makes your whole body shiver. “How much I love you.”

You turn in his arms then, reaching up to cup his cheeks with your palms. He looks down at you, his dark eyes soft and fond, his features more boyish than anything else right now.

You smile up at him, running your thumbs over his cheekbones in a soothing stroke. “I know,” you say, your voice soft, but firm. “I love you too. So much.”

A brilliant grin spreads across his face at your words, his gaze going soft with adoration as he gazes down at you. “Je t'aime,” he whispers, his tone full of conviction and emotion. “Plus que tout.” His eyes meet yours, and you can see the sincerity, his feelings plain on his face.

Then his arms are wrapping around your back, pulling you tight against him.

“Plus que tout,” you repeat, nodding as you lean up on your toes to kiss him.

He meets you halfway, his mouth moving over yours in a warm, wet kiss that makes your heart flutter in your chest. His lips are soft, and gentle, and they move against yours in a kiss that’s more affection than anything else.

Then you're pulling back, and he's letting out a long exhale, as though the act of breathing itself is exhausting.

You glance up to find his eyes still closed, a look of utter contentment on his face. He doesn’t look drunk anymore; he looks like he's floating.

But then his eyes blink open, glazed and in love making you smile at him, feeling your heart nearly explode at the love you have for this man. “Salut,” he murmurs softly. His hands cup your cheeks again, tilting your face up toward his as he leans down to press another kiss to your lips. “You're mine.”

You nod, smiling up at him again as you slip your arms around his waist. “Yes I am,” you repeat. “Now sit down so I can get you some food.”

Kylian nods, his smile still soft on his lips as he does as you ask, sliding back onto the stool he vacated earlier.

You turn to the stove then, pulling the eggs onto the counter and moving to the fridge for milk as he stares after you with wide, affectionate eyes.

You work quickly, but efficiently, moving through the motions of making him scrambled eggs without a hitch. It's not hard, and in a matter of minutes, you've got a plate of fluffy yellow eggs slid in front of him along with a glass of milk.

He grins at you, a bit more subdued this time as he digs in. His eyes still follow you around the kitchen as you move, but there’s a hungry gleam in them now that’s more interested in the food than anything else.

You smile at that, taking a seat on the stool next to him as you watch him eat. “How’s that?”

“Mmm,” he mumbles around his mouthful of eggs, nodding, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he swallows. “That’s really good. Merci, bébé.” He smiles, grateful.

You hum in response, smiling softly as you nod back at him.

His shoulders sag a little as he eats, but when he finishes, he still looks a little unsteady as he pushes the plate away. His mouth twists up into a sheepish grimace. “You're the best cook. Never leave me,” he mumbles, the last part coming out thick and slurred.

You laugh at that, leaning over to take his plate. “I won’t,” you reassure him. “Not unless you leave first.”

His eyes dart towards you with shock, as if offended you would even suggest such a thing. “Jamais,” he replies, his voice full of a fierce denial.

“Okay,” you murmur, your voice gentle, barely above a whisper. Your hand reaches out, fingertips brushing softly over his hair, gliding across his scalp with a touch so light it feels like a caress. “You ready to go to bed now?”

He nods immediately, his answer quick and eager, as though the very idea of rest, as long as it’s with you, is the best thing he’s heard all day. His lips curve into a bright, unrestrained smile, one that lights up his whole face. “Oui,” he agrees, his voice filled with quiet enthusiasm. “Only if you're coming too.”

Your heart warms at his words, and you offer him a small, reassuring smile. “Of course,” you say simply, extending your hand to him.

Kylian doesn’t hesitate. His smile grows wider, impossibly so, as he reaches for you, his fingers slipping into yours with a natural ease. He holds your hand firmly, as he pushes himself to his feet.

This time, he manages to stand without much trouble, though his movements are still clumsy, a slight stumble here and there. But you’re there to steady him, your hand leading him gently out of the kitchen, guiding him down the hallway to your shared room.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant, like he’s laying his heart bare with those few words. They hit you squarely in the chest, a rush of emotion tightening your stomach and twisting your heart. He's been saying it all night but this time it’s almost too much to bear.

Your fingers tighten around his in response, a small squeeze that says everything words can’t. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, just as honest. “But let’s get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay, trésor,” he answers without hesitation, his head dipping slightly as he leans into your touch. There’s a tenderness to his movement, a reliance, as though your presence is the only thing keeping him steady.

You nod, saying nothing more, and continue guiding him, step by step, until you both reach the sanctuary of your bedroom.

As soon as you open the door, Kylian all but collapses onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress like it’s a cloud ready to catch him.

He stretches out across the sheets, limbs sprawled in utter contentment, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. It’s a sound of pure relief, one that fills the room as you watch him settle, his smile still lingering even as his eyes flutter closed.

He looks so relaxed and peaceful it makes you feel bad for the words coming out of your mouth, but you say them anyway. “Babe, you have to change.”

“Non, bébé,” he groans, his head rolling to the side as he opens his eyes, a sliver of dark brown peeking out from under thick lashes. “I’m good,” he mutters. His tone is low, like even the act of speaking is a chore. “Sleep now.”

You smile softly at that, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “You can sleep, just let me help you get out of these first, okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in the morning.” You’ve seen him before when he passes out drunk in his clothes; it’s not pretty.

His eyes crack open a little wider at that, and his mouth drops open in a soft protest. But then a slow smile spreads across his features, a soft sound of agreement escaping his lips. “Okay.” His head tips back, eyelids falling shut again as he raises his arms above his head.

“Good,” you say quietly, your hands moving to strip him of his clothes.

He’s easy to undress, not putting up much resistance as you slide his shirt up and over his head. His undershirt follows soon after, and you pause, just for a moment, to appreciate the hard planes of his torso.

He really is gorgeous, you can’t help thinking, your gaze drinking him in. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders that taper down into toned hips, he’s perfect.

Looking at you like you're the answer to every prayer he’s ever whispered, his smile so dazzling and pure that it makes your chest ache. “You’re the best, bébé,” he declares, his voice thick with emotion as he leans forward to press a kiss to your collarbone. “The absolute best.”

You sigh again, biting back a smile as you maneuver him to sit upright on the bed. His long legs splay out in front of him, his posture utterly relaxed in the way only someone completely plastered can manage. He watches you with a sort of drunken adoration that makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze.

“Wait here,” you say, patting his knee gently as you straighten up. “I’ll grab you something to wear.”

But the second you step away, his hand darts out to grab yours, his fingers curling around your wrist with surprising strength. You turn back to him, startled, and his face is suddenly heartbreakingly serious.

“Don’t go,” he pleads softly, his eyes wide and imploring, his bottom lip jutting out just enough to make him look like a kicked puppy. “I need you here.”

“Kylian,” you murmur, your voice caught somewhere between affectionate and exasperated. You lean down slightly, brushing your free hand against his cheek, melting when he leans into the touch. “I’m just going to the closet. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He pouts, his brows furrowing like a sulky child. “But what if you don’t come back?” His voice is small, his grip tightening just slightly as if the thought alone terrifies him.

Your heart softens instantly. “I’ll always come back,” you tell him, the promise slipping from your lips without a second thought. You kneel down in front of him, cupping his face with both hands so that he has no choice but to meet your gaze. “Always.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his big brown eyes shimmering with emotion. Then, slowly, a small, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Always?” he repeats, his voice so quiet it’s barely more than a whisper.

You nod. “Always.”

He seems satisfied with that, finally letting go of your wrist with a little sigh of contentment. “Okay,” he murmurs, leaning back against the pillows with his eyes already fluttering shut. “But hurry, okay? I don’t like being without you.”

Your chest aches with affection as you press a quick kiss to his forehead before making your way to his closet. As you rummage through the racks, grabbing him some sweatpants and a shirt, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

When you return, Kylian is half-asleep, his head lolling to one side and his mouth slightly open. But the moment he hears your footsteps, his eyes snap open, and he sits up straighter, his expression lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“You came back!” he exclaims, his voice slurred but filled with unrestrained joy.

“Of course I did,” you reply with a soft laugh, setting the clothes down on the bed in front of him. “Now get dressed, mon amour, before you pass out entirely.”

He grins at you, picking up the shirt with a clumsy hand and pulling it over his head with an endearing lack of coordination.

By the time he’s struggling with the sweatpants, you’ve moved to help him, slipping them over his legs and sliding your hands up the soft cotton of his shirt as you do.

“Merci,” he mumbles softly, his voice filled with gratitude as you help him settle in under the covers.

You lean over to press a kiss to his temple, but instead of letting you go, his arms wrap around your neck, pulling you back for a deeper, more meaningful kiss.

He sighs against your lips, a soft exhalation of pure contentment that fills your chest with warmth. When he pulls away, it's just enough to speak, his voice breathy “Trésor,” he says suddenly, his voice soft and serious as his dart back and forth into yours. You raise a brow at him in question.

“I meant what I said,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours with surprising clarity for someone so inebriated. “You’re my everything. My whole world.”

Your throat tightens, and you can only nod, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you lean forward, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Je t'aime,” you murmur against them.

He hums back in response, his arms wrapping around your neck to pull you down closer, his lips moving over yours in a kiss so warm it sets your entire body aflame.

You’re breathless by the time you pull away. But instead of continuing to press the advantage, Kylian lets out another sigh, his eyelids drooping shut again as his head falls back on the pillow. He grins at you lazily, his voice slurring. “You’re so beautiful.”

You laugh. “So are you,” you reply, standing up with a smile. “Now sleep.”

His smile softens, his lashes drifting to half-mast as his body relaxes against the mattress. “Je t'aime, bébé,” he murmurs one last time, the words slipping out almost inaudibly.

“I love you too.” Your response is automatic, heartfelt.

But he’s already out, his breathing slow and even as you slip off your clothes, pulling on the tee shirt he tossed aside earlier to wear as pajamas.

When you slide into bed next to him, his arm curls immediately around your waist, drawing you into his chest with a sleepy sigh.

You settle in beside him, your back to his chest, your heart filling with affection as his chin rests against the slope of your neck. It’s not long before your eyelids droop, the warmth of his body and the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Just as you drift off, you’re dimly aware of a mumbled voice, the softness of his words making your heart flutter even as it slows your breathing.

“I can't wait to marry you.”

-Bianca🌻

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 11

strangers - iwaizumi hajime x reader

word count: 1,578

warnings: swearing, regular smut warnings, squirting, oral (m!receiving), iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer can make a girl lose her sanity and that’s canon in my head

kinktober masterlist

“Who’s this for?”

You eyed the murky golden liquid in the glass the bartender had just set down in front of you before looking up at him in question. The bartender jerked his head to the side in response.

“He says it’s on him.”

You followed his gaze over to the other side of the circular bar, eyes meeting with the man sitting there, alone like you were, staring directly back at you as if waiting for you to see him.

Your breath hitched. Oh, he was gorgeous.

The red lights in the club bounced off his frame, highlighting the built muscles stretching under his t-shirt. Half his face was in shadow, yet you could make out the strong jut of his jaw, the pierce of his stare, closely cropped spiky hair. He lifted a glass up to his lips, one that you followed eagerly with your eyes, and took a small sip. You gulped.

It took half an hour for him to slam your front door behind the two of you, pushing you into the wall with his frame before his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. You gasped and moaned into his mouth, tugging at his shirt like it was offending you, wanting nothing more than to rip it off and run your hands all over his body, feel how his muscles shifted and moved as he did unspeakable things to you-

“Fuck.” He groaned into your neck, teeth sinking into your skin as his hands slid under your skirt and grabbed handfuls of your ass so you would arch into him. You whined at the sting of his bite, feeling your core clench around nothing.

“T-take this off.” You whimpered until he pulled back, tugging his shirt off his to reveal beautiful expanse of bronzed skin. You wasted no time in running your fingers up his arms, the flex of his biceps, his shoulders, tense and ready. His abs clenched as you brushed over them, and you felt your mouth water when you touched the v-line that led to his pants.

“Wanna suck your cock.” You whispered, looking up at his face again. His eyebrows shot up in shock before a smirk tugged up the corner of his lips.

“And here I was, thinking you were one of the shy ones.” His voice was so husky that you moaned. He reached a hand up to tangle in your hair, pushing down on your head.

“C’mon then, sweetheart. Get on your knees.”

You nearly came.

You lowered yourself down, trembling hands undoing the button on his jeans, eyes never leaving the bulge that was struggling to get out from the confines of his clothes. Your eyes widened as you stared at his dick, long and thick and flushed in a furious maroon color. You could feel his smirk as he stared down at you, but your eyes never left his crotch. You licked your lips, unable to wait a second longer.

His groan was heavenly when you took him into your mouth, as far as he would go, too impatient to work him in properly. You didn’t take the time to slowly relax your throat around him. You were in no mood to go slow. You wanted to choke on him and have him fuck your face hard and rough until your mind was too foggy to register anything around you.

Why else would you hook up with a complete stranger?

“Jesus fuck.” The man swore, hand tightening in your hair and groaning loud when he hit the back of your throat, making you gag a bit as your eyes watered. You struggled to breathe through your nose, pushing forward again and moaning long and loud, nose brushing against the skin of his pelvis. A sharp tug immediately pulled you off his cock, making you gasp and whine at the loss. One more tug and you were stumbling onto your feet. You met his eyes then, breath hitching at how dilated his pupils were, at how his lids had fallen to half open, looking at you hungrily.

“You’re too good at that, princess.” He groaned, stepping forward so your body was once again pressed to the wall behind you. “But I wanna cum with my cock deep in your pussy instead.”

You moaned and flushed at his statement. The foul language coming from him was turning you on immensely, the thought of some unknown man stripping you of your clothes and talking about how your pussy would feel around his cock made you clench hard, feeling wetness run down your thighs. He hooked a hand behind your knee, pulling your leg up so you were spread for him, the other hand reaching up to run through your folds, making you whine and jerk up at the contact.

‘You’re soaked, baby.” He cooed, breath hot on your neck. The tip of his finger prodded at your entrance, and you moved into his touch, making him chuckle.

“I- please,” your voice trembled. “Please.”

He wrapped the leg he was holding around his waist, supporting your weight and lifting the other leg around him too, pressing you into the wall. His cock brushed your slit, head breaching your hole and making you arch into him.

“The name’s Hajime.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “Scream it, princess.”

With that, he slammed his cock into you.

You screamed and arched, breath knocked out of you when he wasted no time in picking up the speed, cock pounding into you over and over with no signs of stopping. Your hands shot up, trying to find purchase over the wide expanse of his sweaty back, nails digging into his skin. You cried and gasped, arching into the amazing feeling as his cock tore through you, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had, tingling nerves that had never been touched before, his skin sliding against your own and his breath hot on your neck.

“H-Hajime!” You weeped, one hand reaching up to clutch at his hair, unable to breathe properly when the head of his cock brushed against your sweet spot. You jerked and wailed at the feeling. His lips curled up into a smirk against your neck.

“Found it.” He whispered, angling his hips so it would hit the same spot over and over again. Tears streamed down your face and you shrieked, struggling against his hold, which only tightened, locked you in place so he could pound into you, stimulating every fiber of your body until your head was spinning, until it was too much-

“I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, nails digging so hard into his back that they broke the skin. But you didn’t care, not when your core was clenching around him for dear life, not when he was hitting your spot so wonderfully. And not when you knew what was going to happen when you came. You could feel it. This build up was too familiar to ignore.

“Hajime, I’m- I’m gonna make a mess.” You whined, feeling fresh tears pour from your eyes. He lifted his head from your neck, eyes meeting your wet ones. His pupils were blown. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his hair was sticking out in all directions. His cheeks held the most beautiful maroon flush you had ever seen. You felt your core tighten at the sight.

He smirked as he looked at you, at how destroyed you were. “You’re gonna make a mess?” He grunted, speed picking up even more. You screamed again.

“Yes!” You arched your back, eyes squeezing shut. You felt no shame in that moment, despite how dirty it was. Oh, it was filthy, warning this stranger who had his cock inside you that he was fucking you so good you were about to squirt on him. It made your eyes roll back. And all it did was turn you on more.

“Fuck.” He choked out. “Do it, baby. C’mon. Wanna feel you gush all over my cock. C’mon princess, cum all over me.”

And that’s all it took. You wailed as your vision blacked out, every muscle in your body seizing as you felt wetness gather all over your crotch and his. Your lungs refused to expand with air, choking and gasping as your body jerked and tensed, mind turned to mush at the intensity of your orgasm. You barely registered Hajime groaning and stilling, emptying himself into you and digging his teeth into your neck as you went limp in his arms.

All was silent for a few minutes, both of you trying to catch your breaths. You blinked a few times, trying to clear your vision. When your eyes met his again, he gave you a lazy smile.

“Wow.” His voice was raspy and broken. You choked out a laugh.

“We didn’t even make it to your bedroom.” He continued, pulling out of you and moving to set you down. Your legs gave out when your feet hit the ground, making Hajime tense and hold on to you tighter. You stared at each other for a few seconds before he snorted.

“Alright, c’mon Bambi.” He lifted you up again, bridal style, walking further into your house. He stopped in the middle of the living room, staring at you sheepishly. You laughed.

“Bathroom is the first door on the left.” You grinned at him. He started walking, a softer smile on his face.

“You never told me your name, princess.”

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 1 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran n @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[devildomwriter]

Barbatos Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. When Barbatos joined the fad of putting a sticker on the back of your DDD that portrayed your emotion his said “Finish your work”

2. Barbatos works for Diavolo because he was both lured in by Diavolo and Diavolo threatened him he wouldn’t become king if Barbatos didn’t work for him

3. Barbatos continues to smile even when angry which scares many people especially Little D No. 2

4. Barbatos can choose from any number of realities and make his choice the one true reality

5. Despite being perfect at almost everything, Barbatos has difficulty acting

6. Barbatos is an excellent dancer according to Asmodeus

7. Barbatos supervises fan club meetings for the student council members

8. Barbatos is a talented ice skater and won the first competition Diavolo held for it

9. Diavolo has forbidden Barbatos to use his powers freely and Barbatos tells Lucifer he will only look into the future when Diavolo explicitly asks him to

10. Despite being a butler Lucifer claims Barbatos has elite status

11. Barbatos is described as a walking tea encyclopedia

12. Barbatos has exceptionally good luck, including always winning the jackpot at the casinos

13. Barbatos and Lucifer’s chat name is “Tea Demons”

14. After being strangled by Belphegor, Barbatos saves MC by fusing the altered timeline and the original timeline together

15. Barbatos’ favorite teas are herbal teas

16. Barbatos appears to love herbs in general and not just in his tea

17. Barbatos mentions that he was never a child

18. Barbatos uses his powers by accessing realities, the past and the future through the doors in his room

19. Solomon once had to summon Barbatos to drive off a headless dragon

20. When Barbatos dresses as a dame to escort Queen Rose, his beauty caused an uproar and piles of fanmail were delivered to the demon lords castle so he decided to never dress as a dame again

21. Barbatos had a pact with Solomon before Asmodeus did

22. Barbatos recommends tea leaves grown in exceptionally low temperatures because it adds depth to the flavor

23. Barbatos enjoys walks at night

24. Barbatos prefers cats over dogs

25. Barbatos is so scared of rats he cannot even say their name

26. To summon Barbatos, Solomon had to use so much magic and energy he nearly died, Barbatos was impressed and decided to form a pact to save Solomon’s life

27. Barbatos once attempted to poison rats with Solomon’s food but instead the rat grew in size and Barbatos took the next few days off recovering

28. Barbatos likes the colors burgundy and indigo, he likes indigo specially because he feels he can wear it everyday

29. Barbatos expresses to MC that due to the nature of his job he’s never had any interest in wearing perfume

30. Solomon supposedly owns Barbatos’s grimoire a sign of absolute trust

31. Barbatos does not like it when people touch his tail

32. Barbatos describes himself as dismayed when he and Diavolo are left out of big events

33. Barbatos was once provoked into fighting a witch when she called him a cutie

34. Barbatos’s motto is “to be selfless and serve the people.”

35. Barbatos always puts together and double checks Diavolo’s schedule for the following day before he goes to bed

36. Barbatos starts his baths with his right arm

37. Barbatos’s dream is to see Diavolo become king

38. Barbatos says that if the Devildom were to disappear tomorrow he’d like to hear from Diavolo first

39. Barbatos is not the active one when it comes to a relationship and desires to be bound by his lover

40. Barbatos cherishes relationship anniversaries and special days of remembrance

41. Barbatos says that for a relationship with obstacles he’d rather give up

42. During a love survey, Barbatos chose "other" for the question "unable to express his feelings frankly." His explanation was that there might be situations where he might not necessarily tell a significant other his feelings.

43. Barbatos can see the past and the future

44. When Lucifer first fell to the Devildom and lashed out at Diavolo, Barbatos was the first one to point out to Lucifer that he had become a demon

45. Barbatos prefers traditional establishments that are quiet and easier to relax in

46. Diavolo considers Barbatos more of a drill Sargent and says he is too harsh

47. Barbatos refused Diavolo’s idea of a cleaning robot because he enjoys caring for Diavolo himself

48. Barbatos will sometimes inconvenience himself if it will make Diavolo happy. For example in a chat Barbatos explains that he would prefer to decline an invitation to appear on a quiz show in order to focus on his duties. However, he considers accepting the invitation just to see the look of delight on Diavolo's face.

49. Barbatos works hard to try and discreetly feed and sneak in ingredients into Diavolo’s food that Diavolo avoids like pickles

50. When the brothers get to rowdy at a meeting Barbatos is quick to use physical violence to stop them

51. Barbatos can utilize forks as weapons

52. Barbatos thinks he doesn’t work out enough

53. Barbatos is always overjoyed to receive Diavolo’s praise

54. Barbatos has been described as the greatest pastry chef in the three worlds

55. Barbatos nearly died in season 4 after rescuing the brothers from the Dark Crevasse

56. Barbatos often saves his left over sweets for MC

57. Barbatos once threw a fork at Mammon’s head for interrupting him

58. Barbatos likes Heavy Metal music

59. Barbatos can open portals the dream world

60. The brothers believe Barbatos is overprotective of Diavolo

61. Barbatos is the first demon Luke bonds with

62. Barbatos is always helping Luke with baking, giving recommendations, and spending time baking together

63. Barbatos’s human world look is meant to represent someone who works with tea

64. The necklace Barbatos wears in his human world look is from a shop recommended by Solomon and might be magical

65. Barabtos reminds MC they should be proud they represent the entire human world

66. Barbatos feels uncomfortable not serving and being served himself

67. Barbatos says he is pleased to see MC enjoying themself

68. In a Sweat-Result from surprise interaction, Barbatos tells MC not even they are safe from his wrath

69. Barbatos refers to MC as master to catch them off guard

70. Barbatos seems concerned about Asmodeus’s excess partying

71. When MC uses a whip on Barbatos he tells them they have a passing grade

72. Barbatos often has to stop Diavolo’s antics like preventing him from bringing a 300 foot Christmas tree into the castle

73. Barbatos likes matching with MC and describes the feeling as warm and fuzzy

74. Barbatos had to stop his duties once to prevent Diavolo from joining a public karaoke contest

75. Barbatos wishes to take MC to a music festival at Hell’s Dome

76. Barbatos often finds himself and Simeon going on outings together

77. Barbatos tells MC he wishes they could have tea together just the two of them more often

78. Barbatos heard MC talking in their sleep once. According to him Mc called his name many times among other things that made him smile which he won’t go into details about

79. Barbatos grew a black poinsettia for MC, the flower is meant to represent the bond between two people

80. To help Diavolo prepare for a pancake stacking contest, Barbatos baked 1,000 pancakes a day

81. Lucifer is confused as to how Barbatos keeps so clean while cooking and cleaning in formal wear

82. To avoid Asmodeus feeling him up, Barbatos dragged Satan to the dance floor instead

83. When MC and Mephistopheles illegally enter the student council library, he immediately reports it and is upset no one cares

84. Little D No. 2 once accidentally exploded the castle bathtub with bathbombs and fearing Barbatos’s reaction hid them with Beelzebub who was also scared of Barbatos’s reaction

85. Barbatos always has to stop Diavolo from eating revelation tomatoes as he believes Diavolo shouldn’t have to reveal anything

86. Barbatos was the first person Diavolo asked to pretend to be his date so he could get ice cream for couples but Barbatos refused

87. Barbatos rarely has dreams but when he does they’re of the future

88. Barabtos saved Luke from drowning when Luke tried to save Serun from drowning

89. When inviting others for tea, Barbatos requests they don’t bring Beelzebub for obvious reasons

90. Barabtos once made Leviathan dishes from various manga and anime he liked

91. Barbatos sometimes helps Luke with his crossword puzzles

92. When Luke is called a demon by Mammon and is stunned and horrified, Barbatos is the one to quickly reassure him that demons are much trickier and ruthless

93. Apparently there was a demon who looked so similar to Barbatos that both Luke and Diavolo were fooled

94. Barbatos once sneezed and accidentally teleported Diavolo to the wrong location, Diavolo used this to guilt trip him into staying in the human world

95. Barbatos has a more recent obsession of recreating buildings as desserts

96. Barbatos “looks on in amazement” whenever Diavolo accidentally sorts urgent and non-urgent documents into the same pile

97. Barbatos has an herb garden at the castle where he grows many herbs including Darkness Thyme which is difficult for even masters to cultivate

98. Barbatos used to have nightmares until he started picturing MC’s face before falling asleep

99. When Solomon accidentally created a potion that made everyone speak differently Barbatos describes it as dark days that will live on in his memory

100. Barbatos was so pleased with Mammon’s hard work at TTWF that he took Mammon to the casinos (Barbatos always hits the jackpot)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

No, “convenience” isn’t the problem

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in CHICAGO (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Using Amazon, or Twitter, or Facebook, or Google, or Doordash, or Uber doesn't make you lazy. Platform capitalism isn't enshittifying because you made the wrong shopping choices.

Remember, the reason these corporations were able to capture such substantial market-share is that the capital markets saw them as a bet that they could lose money for years, drive out competition, capture their markets, and then raise prices and abuse their workers and suppliers without fear of reprisal. Investors were chasing monopoly power, that is, companies that are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

The tactics that let a few startups into Big Tech are illegal under existing antitrust laws. It's illegal for large corporations to buy up smaller ones before they can grow to challenge their dominance. It's illegal for dominant companies to merge with each other. "Predatory pricing" (selling goods or services below cost to prevent competitors from entering the market, or to drive out existing competitors) is also illegal. It's illegal for a big business to use its power to bargain for preferential discounts from its suppliers. Large companies aren't allowed to collude to fix prices or payments.

But under successive administrations, from Jimmy Carter through to Donald Trump, corporations routinely broke these laws. They explicitly and implicitly colluded to keep those laws from being enforced, driving smaller businesses into the ground. Now, sociopaths are just as capable of starting small companies as they are of running monopolies, but that one store that's run by a colossal asshole isn't the threat to your wellbeing that, say, Walmart or Amazon is.

All of this took place against a backdrop of stagnating wages and skyrocketing housing, health, and education costs. In other words, even as the cost of operating a small business was going up (when Amazon gets a preferential discount from a key supplier, that supplier needs to make up the difference by gouging smaller, weaker retailers), Americans' disposable income was falling.

So long as the capital markets were willing to continue funding loss-making future monopolists, your neighbors were going to make the choice to shop "the wrong way." As small, local businesses lost those customers, the costs they had to charge to make up the difference would go up, making it harder and harder for you to afford to shop "the right way."

In other words: by allowing corporations to flout antimonopoly laws, we set the stage for monopolies. The fault lay with regulators and the corporate leaders and finance barons who captured them – not with "consumers" who made the wrong choices. What's more, as the biggest businesses' monopoly power grew, your ability to choose grew ever narrower: once every mom-and-pop restaurant in your area fires their delivery drivers and switches to Doordash, your choice to order delivery from a place that payrolls its drivers goes away.

Monopolists don't just have the advantage of nearly unlimited access to the capital markets – they also enjoy the easy coordination that comes from participating in a cartel. It's easy for five giant corporations to form conspiracies because five CEOs can fit around a single table, which means that some day, they will:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

By contrast, "consumers" are atomized – there are millions of us, we don't know each other, and we struggle to agree on a course of action and stick to it. For "consumers" to make a difference, we have to form institutions, like co-ops or buying clubs, or embark on coordinated campaigns, like boycotts. Both of these tactics have their place, but they are weak when compared to monopoly power.

Luckily, we're not just "consumers." We're also citizens who can exercise political power. That's hard work – but so is organizing a co-op or a boycott. The difference is, when we dog enforcers who wield the power of the state, and line up behind them when they start to do their jobs, we can make deep structural differences that go far beyond anything we can make happen as consumers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

We're not just "consumers" or "citizens" – we're also workers, and when workers come together in unions, they, too, can concentrate the diffuse, atomized power of the individual into a single, powerful entity that can hold the forces of capital in check:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all

And all of these things work together; when regulators do their jobs, they protect workers who are unionizing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And strong labor power can force cartels to abandon their plans to rig the market so that every consumer choice makes them more powerful:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/

And when consumers can choose better, local, more ethical businesses at competitive rates, those choices can make a difference:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/10/view-a-sku/

Antimonopoly policy is the foundation for all forms of people-power. The very instant corporations become too big to fail, jail or care is the instant that "voting with your wallet" becomes a waste of time.

Sure, choose that small local grocery, but everything on their shelves is going to come from the consumer packaged-goods duopoly of Procter and Gamble and Unilever. Sure, hunt down that local brand of potato chips that you love instead of P&G or Unilever's brand, but if they become successful, either P&G or Unilever will buy them out, and issue a press release trumpeting the purchase, saying "We bought out this beloved independent brand and added it to our portfolio because we know that consumers value choice."

If you're going to devote yourself to solving the collective action problem to make people-power work against corporations, spend your precious time wisely. As Zephyr Teachout writes in Break 'Em Up, don't miss the protest march outside the Amazon warehouse because you spent two hours driving around looking for an independent stationery so you could buy the markers and cardboard to make your anti-Amazon sign without shopping on Amazon:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

When blame corporate power on "laziness," we buy into the corporations' own story about how they came to dominate our lives: we just prefer them. This is how Google explains away its 90% market-share in search: we just chose Google. But we didn't, not really – Google spends tens of billions of dollars every single year buying up the search-box on every website, phone, and operating system:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Blaming "laziness" for corporate dominance also buys into the monopolists' claim that the only way to have convenient, easy-to-use services is to cede power to them. Facebook claims it's literally impossible for you to carry on social relations with the people that matter to you without also letting them spy on you. When we criticize people for wanting to hang out online with the people they love, we send the message that they need to choose loneliness and isolation, or they will be complicit in monopoly.

The problem with Google isn't that it lets you find things. The problem with Facebook isn't that it lets you talk to your friends. The problem with Uber isn't that it gets you from one place to another without having to stand on a corner waving your arm in the air. The problem with Amazon isn't that it makes it easy to locate a wide variety of products. We should stop telling people that they're wrong to want these things, because a) these things are good; and b) these things can be separated from the monopoly power of these corporate bullies:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/08/divisibility/#technognosticism

Remember the Napster Wars? The music labels had screwed over musicians and fans. 80 percent of all recorded music wasn't offered for sale, and the labels cooked the books to make it effectively impossible for musicians to earn out their advances. Napster didn't solve all of that (though they did offer $15/user/month to the labels for a license to their catalogs), but there were many ways in which it was vastly superior to the system it replaced.

The record labels responded by suing tens of thousands of people, mostly kids, but also dead people and babies and lots of other people. They demanded an end to online anonymity and a system of universal surveillance. They wanted every online space to algorithmically monitor everything a user posted and delete anything that might be a copyright infringement.

These were the problems with the music cartel: they suppressed the availability of music, screwed over musicians, carried on a campaign of indiscriminate legal terror, and lobbied effectively for a system of ubiquitous, far-reaching digital surveillance and control:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

You know what wasn't a problem with the record labels? The music. The music was fine. Great, even.

But some of the people who were outraged with the labels' outrageous actions decided the problem was the music. Their answer wasn't to merely demand better copyright laws or fairer treatment for musicians, but to demand that music fans stop listening to music from the labels. Somehow, they thought they could build a popular movement that you could only join by swearing off popular music.

That didn't work. It can't work. A popular movement that you can only join by boycotting popular music will always be unpopular. It's bad tactics.

When we blame "laziness" for tech monopolies, we send the message that our friends have to choose between life's joys and comforts, and a fair economic system that doesn't corrupt our politics, screw over workers, and destroy small, local businesses. This isn't true. It's a lie that monopolists tell to justify their abuse. When we repeat it, we do monopolists' work for them – and we chase away the people we need to recruit for the meaningful struggles to build worker power and political power.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/12/give-me-convenience/#or-give-me-death

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[templetogavage]

Weekly Weighing (07/21/2024 to 07/27/2024)

Below are more than seven posts I enjoyed from gaining and encouraging Tumblr this week.

1. https://www.tumblr.com/whopper-t/756730410387505152

As always, we have to include a classic before and after. I love seeing a guy give up muscle gains for a gut, and @fitgainer certainly has.

2. https://www.tumblr.com/fatlardassboy/757147827261652992

@gordoguapoofficial will keeping making this roundup with posts like this. I've rewatched this one quite a few times this week.

3. https://www.tumblr.com/jack90265/756924780327927808

I can only fit one video into a text post, so I chose to grab a screenshot of this one- most of the appeal of watching @thiccgay in motion is represented by this still, in my opinion. Soft belly, played with, while chugging. This is the bread and butter of gainer content.

4. https://www.tumblr.com/zangtang/757057344001720320

Just look at the way @athlethick fills out this shirt. That is all.

5. https://www.tumblr.com/whopper-t/757106928113614848

Another before and after! @whopper-t shows off how much he's changed over 10 years, and he should be proud of what he's done. That boy turned into a man.

6. https://www.tumblr.com/gimmefictiontx/757094729711222784/would-love-to-see-you-and-another-gluttonous-hog

Sometimes the right clothing can accentuate every curve. @gimmefictiontx should wear exclusively this from now on, in my humble opinion.

7. https://www.tumblr.com/beefyrog/757106611555876864

@beefyrog takes a perfectly perfunctory belly pic and, through a combination of glasses, beard, hair, and the prop of a video game controller, manages to produce something I find incredibly hot. Well done, and definitely worth inclusion.

Bonus: @allfattenedup

This week, @allfattenedup had contending posts nearly every day of this week. He also launched an OnlyFans, as he's moving his content there going forward. I've been a fan for some time, but given both of those facts, I thought I'd give him his own, dedicated section here this week.

1. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/756653550606614528/do-guys-outside-de-gaining-community-still

A fun little anecdote about how much changes at the club when you get as fat as he has. I recommend reading it.

2. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/756744189769908224/hey-fatso-how-does-a-guy-who-used-to-be-vain-and

Anon was really having fun with this one! You see the rest of it and the response at the link.

3. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/756834717451632640

Apparently, in addition to the artistic video content, he's working on stories! Submit some prompts if you're interested.

4. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/756937472240451584

Here's his post from last week promoting his new OnlyFans. Check it out if you're interested in sampling some artfully-made gaining videos.

5. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/757015909493768192/you-undoubtedly-and-officially-have-a-fat-face

An anon ask about how it feels to have a double chin, and an honest answer- good fun.

6. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/757106563945316352/you-know-i-had-stumbled-across-a-gainer-years

I recommend clicking through to read this whole thing. Anon talks about being inspired to gain by @allfattenedup.

7. https://www.tumblr.com/allfattenedup/757208128014172160

Finally, let's close with a nice, lengthy bit of writing that describes how every moment walking around in a fat body can be enthralling for a gainer.

And that, finally, is this week's Weekly Weighing!

[celestial-letters]

and the crowd went mild 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 also no chara dividers im lazy rn

these r so short id add more but im rushing rn sorry lmfao 😭😭😭

intended lowercase!

misc. obm hcs

LUCIFER

wakes up at the ass crack of dawn every single morning.

wears those old man pjs. with the long hat and fuzzy slippers and gown. you know the one.

most bitter coffee you've ever had in your life how he can drink it is astonishing.

his bed, his mattress, his pillows are all as hard as rock how does this man SLEEP.

sleeps like hes the corpse at the funeral hes that one image

MAMMON

will pull you into a headlock and call it a hug.

LEVIATHAN

guy who had mountain dew and cheeto dust in his veins instead of blood. guy who marinates in his room for two months straight. guy who- (i am immediately shot dead).

did a collab with the anti-lucifer league to create a 100k words dialuci fic to piss off lucifer (dont worry about him he got paid in anime and tsl merch).

TRULY believes he is the #1 tsl fan. and also #1 ruri fan.

wimp who VOLUNTARILY makes you cosplays if you are a cosplayer or even if you aren't. it will happen.

vtuber fan. he was like "hey i wanna be a streamer but i dont wanna show my face but i also want to be an anime boy! wait-" and now hes a vtuber.

has accidentally referred to all of his brothers as "chat" at least once. hes never recovering from that btw.

SATAN

cannot stop annotating books he reads for the life of him.

all of his books are just filled to the brim with sticky notes because all he does is annotate.

once he has a crush he will start imagining him and them in the same scenarios as the characters in romance novels he read. (loser alert!!)

sneaking a new cat into hol like once a week (he never succeeds btw).

ASMODEUS

oh boy his room REEKS of perfume and body spray.

"i sprayed my new perfume in every nook and cranny! smells so floral and elegant, don't you think?" (it smells like a bath and body works threw up.)

surprisingly plays the trumpet and BOY is he loud. bro is absolutely blasting those notes.

worst driver ever btw.

BEELZEBUB

freckles all over!! like a lot. *im not beating the insane allegations*

ate like 27 family size dorito bags, 30 dollars worth of taco bell, and four sprites in one sitting and he still hasnt recovered.

sleeps. like a lot. not as much as belphie but enough to be considered an eepy guy.

BELPHEGOR

will randomly grab every blanket and pillow he can get his hands on and make a nest in the common room if he's up to it. and then have everyone make a dog pile in it just so they can hang out and be silly.

will NOT clean it up afterwards. lucifer will tell him to and his only response will be "im tired..."

freckles like beel too i think theyre silly.

9829364 cow plushies. (theyre all from lucifer)

SOLOMON

will randomly gaslight people for no reason

"hey did you do the homework"

homework? what homework? there was homework? my, what even is homework? never heard of that.

"hey, i heard of this animal from the human world called a giraffe! can i see a picture?"

what? what's a giraffe? oh, those!! yeah, they're just myths. they're not real. purely fiction!!

yk that one post about tumblr funnyman solomon. he is a tumblr funnyman to me. he confidently posts his exploded spaghetti and gets 10k notes i think.

SIMEON

has a book club with satan and solomon. :)

probably writes oneshots of the brothers on tumblr idfk man (sorry to the simeon fans i write like nothing on this guy bro).

LUKE

bodily six ("but didnt the devs say hes ten?" shut up. /j)

along with that, also shorter than in canon. (since hes. yk. a first grader. that BOY is not five foot hes one sauce packet long dude.)

favorite store in the human world is walmart. i like to think his human world outfit is all exclusively from walmart bc thats funny i think.

DIAVOLO

hands of STEEL. he tries to grab your wrist and he nearly crushes it by accident.

ice cream!! he loves it :) his favorite is strawberry btw.

also this boy is NOT a himbo hes a smart man.

needs like a hug and some sleep and also a friend this boy works too much!!

BARBATOS

short. like really short. especially according to devildom standards since most demons are super tall.

"but isn't he six feet?" not in my heart.

somehow always making tea for some reason?? if he's not making tea then he's making pastries.

my boy does not SLEEP. hasn't slept since the sun has been birthed and doesn't plan on ever doing it.

[queerdeans]

Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester (A Retrospective Fic)

Castiel pulls something from his coat. Dean expects it to be his angel blade, but it isn’t. It’s… “What, you’re some kinda celestial messenger service now?” he asks, taking the envelope that Castiel hands him. The envelope has his name written on it, and he slides it open with a finger. Inside is a card with a cartoon dog on it and the words, typed in comic sans, ‘Have A Dog Gone Good Birthday.’ Or: a series of birthday drabbles from Dean’s 26th to his 45th birthday

January 24, 2005 26 years old

The day Dean turns 26, he nearly cries in front of a stripper like he’s Holden goddamn Caulfield. He doesn’t — that’s the important thing. But it’s been a long fucking week, he’s strung out on exhaustion and energy drinks, his dad keeps calling him with research and lore questions from three states away, and his own hunt is taking too long. It’s nearly 8pm on his birthday before he even remembers that, oh yeah, shit, that’s today.

Dean’s in Texas waiting for the next full moon so he can gank this werewolf he’s been tracking. He might even be able to relax a bit if it weren’t for the research questions John keeps calling him with, acting like he’s Sammy. He’s been stuck in the library all day reading through old-ass books and trying not to fall asleep.

At 8, he calls it quits and finds his tired way to the strip club. No better way to celebrate, right? Only it’s a Monday and the place is sad. It’s nearly empty, and Dean’s few drinks hardly touch his bad mood.

A beautiful woman dances on the stage in front of him, seeming to enjoy herself regardless of whether he’s paying her any attention — or any money, which he isn’t, because he’s dead broke. He’s slurred his apologies to her several times and she is mostly ignoring him, which he thinks is, yeah, pretty fucking fair.

He pulls out his phone and checks once again for missed calls or messages. He has just one, a text from Bobby: happy bday kid

And this is what pulls the tears to the forefront, where they prick at the back of his eyes.

thx , he sends back.

And then he pulls up the string with Sammy, who’s saved as ‘bitch’ in his phone.

Nothing. Maybe Sam’s run out of texts for the month.

He rubs his eyes with his fists, clears his throat, and pulls the last bill from his pocket. He tosses it onto the stage, drains his glass with a gulp, and stalks out.

January 24, 2006 27 years old

When the clock crosses over from 11:59pm on January 23 to midnight on the 24th, Dean is being thrown through a window by a malevolent spirit. Luckily for him, they’re on the first floor, and even luckier, Sam’s out in the backyard digging up bones, which he unearths just at the right moment, pouring down salt and gasoline as Dean yells, “Hurry up, Sammy!” from the rhododendron bushes in front of the house. The spirit has pulled several knives from the knife block on the kitchen counter and is aiming them at Dean through the window, or what was once a window before Dean’s body took out all the glass. Dean’s thinking he’s not going to live to see 27 when the spirit goes up in flames.

Dean laughs. Improbably, he fucking laughs. And Sam rounds the corner of the house with his matchbox in his hand and a frown on his face. Dean’s covered in twigs and leaves but he’s climbing his way out of the bush, checking that everything is still functioning — ten fingers and ten toes, right where he left them. And it’s his birthday; he’s made it to 27. Pretty amazing for an idiot with about ten death wishes and the world’s most dangerous job.

“Next time, dig a little faster,” he tells his brother with a slap on his shoulder, and heads toward the Impala.

January 24, 2007 28 years old

Sam doesn’t have any visions, and Dean spends the day driving. He counts it as a good way to turn 28, mostly just grateful that his standards are low. Still, every time they stop for gas or a bite to eat, Dean can’t help checking his phone. Waiting on a call that hardly came even when John was alive, and certainly won’t come now that he’s dead. And so it goes; beating against the walls of grief that shroud him.

To his credit, around noon Sam steps into a gas ‘n sip and emerges with a jumbo pack of jerky. “Happy birthday, jerk,” he says, dropping it into Dean’s lap. And Dean smiles.

January 24, 2008 29 years old

As far as last birthdays topside go, this one isn’t too bad. They’ve just wrapped up a thing in Pennsylvania with Bobby, and though Sam wants to head down to Broward, Florida to check out some dumb tourist trap, Dean holds him at bay for another day.

Bobby’s splurged on tickets for a horror fest at one of the theaters in downtown Pittsburgh, and Sam distracts the guy behind the snack stand while Dean grabs several handfuls of brightly colored bags of candy.

They post up in the back row of the theater, the three of them; veterans of a war no one knows about, always have to have their backs to the wall, lest someone (or something) creep up behind them.

Dean kicks his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him and eats himself sick with sour patch kids and twizzlers. “Happy 29,” Bobby says.

“We’ll do this again for 30,” Sam adds, and Dean doesn’t even fight it, not this time. If Sam wants to believe he’ll live to 30, that’s fine. Just a couple more months, and then he’ll be dog chow.

Just a couple more months , he tells himself. Only, it would be nice to make it to 30. Wouldn’t it?

Keep reading on AO3

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 27th

Day 27: Wax Play, Glory Hole, Group Sex

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sex clubs, anonymous sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingers, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, fantasizing, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He has needs. Needs that have been unfulfilled for so long since the death of his wife. Needs that he can’t bring himself to slack by dating and getting involved with someone. It’s still too raw, too painful. Plus, he doesn’t know how Missy would react to there being another woman in his life, in her life. She had loved her mother fiercely, still does, like Marcus does. It’s why he had started coming here. 

Here, at The Hole, they are discreet. Very. Politicians, celebrities, and Heroes are among the regulars that come here to blow off steam in any manner of ways. Always anonymous and there are any number of pleasures to be had. He scans in with a card and inputs in what he is looking for. A room number will appear and that is where he will go. Or he could find someone by their room number. Certain people are always hosting in specific rooms and he knows the one that he continuously goes to. 

Room 417. It’s almost like an addiction at this point. He doesn’t care though, because he knows what he will find when he opens the door. A perfect pussy on display, legs resting on hooks. Only the lower body is on display, apparently she doesn’t suck cock, or maybe her other half is at another glory hole, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. Not with the sounds she gives him. 

Marcus Moreno is a Heroic. He’s a household name. However, here he’s just a number. One of hundreds that submit STI tests every week and participate in the pure debauchery of the club. This is where he can work out the stress of his job, of being a single father, out on that pretty pussy in room 417. 

It’s always interesting when you are ‘the stirrups’. Oftentimes, you find that some men prefer to just get that anonymous blow job, but others, they want pussy. They want to sink into a wet cunt and fuck away whatever need they have. Or maybe your ass. You don’t mind it. 

The space for your head, your torso, is a little boring. You normally close your eyes and meditate or just rest while you wait. Knowing that someone will eventually come. The small chime before the door opens makes your eyes pop open and you strain to hear them. 

He’s quiet, shuffling into the room and stopping. Staring. Enjoying the view before he decides what he wants to do. It’s what he does every time to this cunt. What he’s found he loves doing. Marcus shifts forward and runs a single finger down the fold of the labia. 

Your body twitches when you feel someone touch you. An involuntary response, that makes you giggle quietly. You do it nearly every time, you can’t help it. 

Marcus grins. There’s something about that honest, raw response that he enjoys. One that makes this seem like more than an anonymous encounter. He pulls his finger away and slips two into his mouth to wet them. 

“Look so pretty lying here.” He coos as he runs the now wet fingers up and down your exposed slit. “Just waiting for someone to come, huh?”

That voice. It makes you shiver every time and you’ve heard it quite a few times here. It makes you think of your boss, Marcus Moreno. That raspy baritone that you hear everyday at work. But it couldn’t be him. There’s no way a man like him would come to a place like this. But this is your indulgence, your fantasy. That Marcus is on the other side of that wall.

He hums when he sees the thighs relax, spreading even more in invitation. It’s always so beautiful when a woman accepts his touch. The people who say that consent is guaranteed since they are in the stirrups never witness the unfurling of their body’s. Never pay attention to the queues that are given. But they probably never think about pleasuring the person on their back either. 

Whoever this man is, you always love when he is the one who comes. His fingers slowly, lazily get to know your sex. Like it’s the first time that he’s touched you, even though you know you’ve had him before. So when you get wet almost immediately, it’s in anticipation of what you know is coming. 

Marcus groans at the first bit of arousal that coats his fingers. “Fuck, do you like the way I’m touching you? Let me know if you don’t like something, sweetheart.” He rubs the clit and then drags his fingers up and down the folds as he spreads the  wetness. “A pretty pussy like this is made for pleasure.”

You moan softly. Plenty of men talk while they are with you. Immediately shoving their cocks into your cunt and talking about how wet or tight you are, when you’re not that fucking wet. It’s about their pleasure and they don’t really care about yours. Not your imaginary Marcus. He takes his time. He spends time doing more than just fucking you. He breaks you apart. 

“One day I’m going to try your ass out.” It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with the woman he’s touching, but she never does more than moan or cry out normal phrases. That’s okay, all he wants is to hear her sweet voice, to see if it’s as familiar as he imagines. “But this sweet little pussy is too good. I’m addicted.”

Your eyes roll back, another moan bubbling up from your chest. In your mind, Marcus is hovering over you, those glasses discarded along with every stitch of clothing as he looks at you like you’re his entire world. 

His fingers dip inside the tight little hole. Popping back out before going too deep and groaning when the walls try to tighten around them. “Now.” He shuffles to his knees in front of the contraption that exposes this cunt to his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me eat your pussy.” He orders, right before his mouth latches onto the clit and his fingers plunge deep. 

You cry out, body jerking in pleasure and shock, even though you knew he would eat you out. This man does every time and your eyes flutter closed. Imagining that it's Marcus between your legs and your walls clench down around his fingers. 

Marcus chuckles, loving how responsive this woman is. Her beautiful choked noises makes his hard cock twitch and throbs as it sticks straight up and he has to resist wrapping his free hand around it. Instead he grabs onto one hip and squeezes as his tongue curls around the clit and he sucks on it. 

“Oh god.” You choke out, stomach twisting in pleasure and your hands slide up to cup your tits. Letting this man feast on your cunt like it’s an altar of worship. “So good baby, so good.”

Praise gets him. He misses it. Has missed it until room 417, until this pussy and the wonderful voice that comes with it. He knows that voice but he can never place it. Not that throaty, lust rough begging. He wants to hear more of it so he doubles down on the curl of his fingers and the flick of his tongue. 

You can’t help but whimper and whine for him, this glorious, faceless man who sounds like your hopeless crush. He is so intent on your pleasure. Not a few passive licks to say he ate pussy, but this man treats your cunt like a five star meal. Devouring you like it would save the world. 

Marcus moans into the folds. Feeling the arousal leaking out from around his fingers and sliding down the valley of this woman’s crack and literally dripping onto his cock where he is poised underneath the void of the table. It’s incredible and he wants more. He wants to feel and hear her cum. To have her break apart because of him. 

You shudder and moan, practically shaking as you experience the way this gorgeously talented man works your body. Playing it like it is his personal instrument, one he has fine-tuned over decades. His thick, generously long fingers press deep and his tongue suckles on your clit again, making you wail out a wordless sound as you start to cum. 

For a split second, he wishes he could see her face. To watch her mouth drop open before that delicious cry sounds out. Does she throw her head back? Are her eyes closed or blown wide? Those are the questions he wants answers as the walls start to spasm around his fingers, making him moan again. 

He works you through it. Softening his mouth and fingers as he guides you through the most blissful orgasm you’ve had in years. Until your thighs stop shaking and his fingers are still inside you. 

“Good girl, fuck you’re so good to me.” Marcus pants, nearly ready to cum himself as he slowly pulls his fingers out of the little hole they were buried in. “Always so good.” His fingers are coated in arousal and the thin strands web between his fingers and that perfect cunt. Stretching thin before finally breaking apart. She had cum. 

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?” It’s amazing how that request always makes your heart skip a beat. Asking after giving so much pleasure. Seeking out approval even though you are laying exposed for his pleasure. Fuck, you wish this was Marcus Moreno. It would solidify him as the complete hero in your mind. “Please.”

Marcus groans, immediately shuffling to stand. Her plea sounds so desperate. Like she needs him inside her and it feeds into a core desire. To be wanted. He has covered his cock in her arousal and he pumps it, peeling the foreskin back to press the head against her clit. 

Your toes curl, flexing in anticipation as he slowly slides his cock through your cum slick folds. Again, you envision Marcus. Disheveled and flushed with desire, looking down at your cunt like it’s Heaven. You try to roll your hips down, but the stirrups don’t allow for much movement and there is no way you would pull back now. 

The first inch is slow. Easing in and groaning over the wetness, the heat. Controlling himself for a moment before the threads of control snap and he’s lost to the sensation. 

Your cry is one of pleasure, mixed with the best kind of pain when he snaps his hips forward. “Fuck.” You clench when his voice drops. That honey rough voice turning to a snarl, like he’s lost control. “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart. Gonna tear this pussy up.”

He grabs her hips, using them for purchase as he draws his hips back to fill you again. Over and over, he buries his cock into the most perfect cunt he’s had since his wife. Feeling the walls stretch and give to his harsh thrusts. 

All you can do is take. Take it and vocalize how good it feels. Your moans and cries are pushed out of you as he drills into you. Spearing his cock into you at a pace that leaves you breathless. 

Here is where he can lose himself. The weight of the world falls off his shoulders as his hips jackhammer forward again and again. All the worries he carries are gone as he buries his cock into that clenching, squeezing little hole. Listening to her sweet sounds as he fucks her. 

Your fingers claw your tits, biting your lip to keep from screaming too loud when he finds the sweet spot and dials in on it. Hitting it again and again without fail as he rocks into you brutally. You’ll be sore. You’ll feel him for days and you wish it was Marcus. Knowing his secrets that while he might be a hero, he fucks like a sinner. 

“Soo good, so sweet.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his brow. “Fucking tight little cunt, taking me.” He hisses as he rocks up into the balls of his feet, feeling that sensation in the base of his spine. He’s getting close. 

Your moans have turned into one long continuous one. His breakneck pace is almost impossible to take and yet you're gasping out when you feel a thumb on your clit. Rubbing tight, harsh circles on the sensitive bean. 

“Cum for me.” He pants out. “One more, give me one more, sweetheart.” He wants her to cum again. The best feeling in the world is cumming with your lover. Even if he can’t see her face, he wants to feel her orgasm. 

His command opens the floodgates. Your heels digging into the stirrups while your back arches up. Walls clamping down around his cock, Marcus’s cock and you’re relieved when you just cry out wordlessly instead of shouting his name.

It’s another couple of thrusts, feeling his balls pull tight against his body before he’s pushing deep. Rocking his hips with shallow, grinding thrusts as he pumps that quivering pussy full of his load. Painting her walls with ropes of his hot seed and moaning quietly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You whimper when he stops moving, just throbbing inside you and you see that exhausted smile on Marcus’s face. The one he always gives at the end of a battle when the world is safe once more. This time, it’s just for you. A private, blissed out smile that has you smile to yourself on the other side of the partition. 

Marcus eases out of the pussy, watching as his cum starts to well up and slowly drip out as his cock softens. Coated in her juices and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Since the last time he was here. Reaching out, he runs a finger through his cum, making her shiver as he smiles tiredly. He’s so fucking grateful he found The Hole and room 417. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

[stabbyfoxandrew]

could I please get some arson neil?

WIP Wednesday (11/27) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 268)

"You want to kiss me." Andrew repeats dumbly, unable to form any other words. After a few seconds of trying to get his brain to work, Andrew notices 10 fidgeting with the frame of the gift he just received and he glares down at it. "Do not tell me these sudden urges are because of the Kevin picture. I'll take it back and burn it myself."

"What? No." 10 says, offended. But he deliberately moves the photo between himself and the car door, just out of Andrew's reach. Andrew raises a brow and 10 gestures with his hands. "I don't know. It's just that I've gotten to know you better than I've ever known anyone in my life. And I like what I know. About you."

"So you want to kiss me. Because we're friends." Andrew says slowly, trying to process both the words and their meaning. Andrew's never wanted to kiss any of his friends before— Kevin doesn't count; he is not Andrew's friend. He is the bane of Andrew's existence.

"Yeah. Maybe."

"No maybes. Yes or no, firebug."

"Yes then. I want to kiss you. Real bad." 10 says, and his tone of voice makes Andrew's face heat. He chews his lip once again and tacks on a, "If you want to."

Andrew can do nothing but stare at him, but 10 never flinches. He just stares right back, waiting for Andrew to give his answer. And it dawns on him that they're sitting in the middle of a parking lot and probably in view of the patrons inside. But he doesn't give a rat's ass about that. He needs to know what 10 tastes like. Right now.

And if anyone catches them, he'll pretend he's Aaron.

"Come here," Andrew says, gesturing with a couple fingers. And 10 startles a bit but he complies, scooting forward in his seat until Andrew can count his eyelashes.

NEIL

When Andrew reaches out to cup the side of his face, Neil nearly jumps out of his skin. But Andrew's hand is soft, if calloused, and warm. So warm. Neil leans into it and stares into Andrew's eyes. The sunlight does amazing things to them. This is better than a photo. Leagues better.

After what feels like a lifetime— and Neil's led several— Andrew finally leans forward. Neil isn't sure what to do. So he lets Andrew come to him and the first press of Andrew's lips feels like he's just struck a match.

ANDREW

Andrew's never really been a kisser.

He's given dozens of sloppy blowjobs in dark corners at Eden's Twilight and a bunch of gayer clubs just like it. He's had more random dicks in his hand than he cares to think about. But that's all it ever is. When Andrew wanted to experiment, he'd get a guy off and send him away so he could take care of himself. He's never been very interested in swapping spit with anyone. Until this stupid arsonist showed up.

Unfortunately this means he's not quite sure what he's doing. But 10 clearly has even less experience and he doesn't seem to mind that Andrew's a bit clumsy. He tilts his head to lick at the seam of 10's lips and—

[almostempty]

get to know your moots

thanks for the tag @yxtkiwiyxt, i can never resist a classic myspace about me bulletin survey throwback bc i yearn for the days of agonizing over finding the perfect profile song

what's the origin of your blog title?: it's too much pressure to create a witty name, i've used such gripping online usernames as waterbottle, casual-stapler, oldfruit, etc..

favorite fandoms: this is all i participate in actively! but i do enjoy being exposed to other fandoms through y'all here and there

OTP(s) + shipname: i just want all of the various fictional ppcu characters for me

favorite color: black n yellow 🖤💛

favorite game: nothing recently, but i enjoy zelda games, rdr2, elden ring, and roller coaster tycoon (1999)

song stuck in your head: listening to Sativa - Jhené Aiko, Swae Lee currently

weirdest habit/trait?: dissociating in car (parked)

hobbies: reading, writing, finding new/old music, making myself laugh over silly memes, swimming, solo adventures, people watching, going to da movies, etc.

if you work, what's your profession?: drug and alcohol counseling and juvenile justice advocacy

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?: obligatory i do not dream of labor, but like @yxtkiwiyxt, for my next trick i'd like to be a digital nomad somehow

something you're good at: i have a good picker for friends, i'm occasionally funny, dogs like me

something you're bad at: being concise, perception/management of time in any manner and remembering

something you love: music, all day, every day, non stop

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: various rants about capitalism (i'm fun), movies i haven't seen but feel like i could accurately guess the plot of, my fav cursed double features

something you hate: my poor perception of time and memory issues, executive dysfunction, facing my demons aka doing IFS work in therapy

something you collect: concert vids, i think i'm the only one that rewatches them?, books, nearly dead peach ice Lost Mary's

something you forget: plans, texts, objects and people not in my line of sight, if a memory real or a dream/idea, if i've already told you the story i'm halfway through (but i still think it's funny so i intend on finishing it either way)

what's your love language?: i know it's an innocent question, but i have mad beef with the author of the book about love languages and the christian gender roles perpetuated in the book and lack of empirical research around the concepts, and the creator's homophobia, but i digress (i told y'all i'm fun)

favorite movie/show: some movies: office space, SLC punk, eternal sunshine, the thing, drive, bottoms; don't make me pick shows rn

favorite food: been unable to stop getting nachos and the poblano crema from the taqueria on my block for the last ~6 weeks

favorite animal: big time animal lover here, shout out to my dogs!! i can't choose a fav otherwise

are you musical?: i can play a couple instruments, i wish i could sing

what were you like as a child?: a pleasure to have in class

favorite subject at school?: art, but i pursued science

least favorite subject?: i never took chemistry because everyone complained about how hard it was and i figured out you didn't need it to graduate, but i suppose technically i didn't take it so can't confirm

what's your best character trait?: adaptability (i just took an updated personality test lmao to help me figure one out)

what's your worst character trait?: perfectionist (not with editing heheh)

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?: a few interpersonal interactions

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?: maybe an artist from the 27 club, just to see them perform

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!):

two completed longfics i enjoyed <3, best kept secret- enemies to lovers/bodyguard din by luckbealincoln on ao3, vampire waltz - idiots in love/ max phillips by absurdthirst, wardenparker on ao3

obligatory free memes if u made it this far

tags, but no pressure: @auteurdelabre @gothcsz @lovely-vamp-princess

@slimybeth69 @swankyorange @syd-djarin @itwasntimethatdidit40 @probablyreadinsmut @thundermartini @ace-turned-confused

@persephone-girl @thischarmingmandalorian @pinkypromisepascal

@hoelaris @lilac-boo if u read this and i didn't tag you, tell me all ur secrets and tag me anyway <3

[vinecradle]

ditto - do you want somebody, like i want somebody?

pairing :: kazuha x gn!reader

summary :: a cosplay event at the mall was announced, you were waiting for this moment!! taking lots of pictures with people, but then you saw someone who cosplayed your character's partner.. and his friend asked you both to take a picture together and it goes viral on social media- and now you're faced with the cosplayer's twitter handle..

genre :: college au (reader & kazuha are in their first year), modern au, social media au, strangers to friends to fake lovers to lovers, playfully flirty x cant handle it trope, and also she fell first he fell harder trope, mutual pining, sets place after the scaramouche smau ends

warnings :: little angst, loneliness, alcohol mentions, reader is pretty touch starved, honestly not that many problems most of it is fluffy 🫶🏻

status :: on hold until i finish my scaramouche smau!

official playlist :: is linked here!

notes :: published 23 feb 2023, taglist is open! either send an ask/comment preferably so i could keep track easier and also please specific if you'd like to be in this taglist only or my permanent taglist

profiles :: ice ice baby | still a dottore hate club

teaser :: is linked here !

ACT I - music is what feelings sound like.

01. a cosplay event!!

02. character.. hunting?

03. 200 playlists

04. cosplay found!

05. cosplay received.

06. a sudden project (✿)

07. why is there a random kid

08. it's nearly time!!

ACT II - i lost myself, but you found me.

09. the cosplay event (✿)

10. post-cosplay

11. wait- im trending?

12. reporters (✿)

13. his twitter

14. bro's mesmerizing

15. this mess

16. he's actually fun to talk to

ACT III - i told the stars about you.

17. just a friendly hangout..! (✿)

18. stayed on the low

19. a priv notification

20. loveliest couple award! (✿)

21. a different cosplay?

22. when will i experience

23. she fell first he fell harder?

ACT III - cause you're so lovely

24. you are out of this world

25. second friendly hangout.. yes! (✿)

26. anything but friendly

27. him, in my dreams

28. talk (✿)

29. let's keep it a secret

30. the new event (✿)

31. we're on the news!!

ACT IIII - hm? he said it, "ditto"

32. you make me feel safe (✿)

33. a playlist for you

34. guitarist x violinist

35. my home

-> bonus! my love, my love (✿)

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 01

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf (let me know if you wish to be tagged)

Mike sat in the passenger seat of Leff's 1970 Chrysler Newport which he treated like the child he always wanted. He was pissed to have been dragged out of bed so early to sit in the Train station parking lot. He had no idea who they were picking up or why he had to be with him but he was annoyed and tired.

"You're gonna need to get in the backseat." Leff said without looking at him.

"The fuck for?" Mike looked over at Leff who narrowed his eyes at him.

"Because I'd rather not watch Y/n embarrass you this early in the morning." He explained. Mike knew very little about this person they were picking up. He knew that they worked for Leff and just returned from doing an import run.

"He can sit in the backseat just fine." Mike laughed but when he felt Leff's gaze on him, he looked over at him.

"Are you fucking serious? I'm already comfortable, why do I have to move just because of them?" Mike whined.

"You sound like a fucking child." Leff groaned.

"You treat me like a fucking child." Mike argued. Leff rolled his eyes and continued to puff on a cigarette watching for this person to make their appearance.

"What's so special about this guy? I mean you made me take a fucking Uber from the airport when I got here but we're picking this guy up at the train station?" Mike asked curiously.

"Y/n works harder than you ever thought about working." Leff kept his eyes on the platform and Mike rolled his eyes.

"Y/n isn't a guy either so be respectful. Did your mother teach you any fucking manners?" Leff asked with frustration. Mike let out a laugh.

"So what? You fucking her?" Mike asked with his eyebrow up. Leff gave him a death glare before Mike put his hands up and got in the back seat mumbling about never getting any respect.

"Okay so this chick...what does she do exactly? I mean is she like Sicky? Is she like me, a runner?" Leff snorted.

"A runner? That's what you call yourself? She's not like either of you because she doesn't need a fucking job title to earn money." Leff explained.

"She's also off limits so don't even think about being cute with her, she'll cut your dick off before I even get a chance to slap you around for being an idiot." Leff pointed at him in the rearview with a warning.

"So you are fucking her?" Mike pressed and Leff swatted at him but he put his hands up.

"Jesus Christ! I'm just curious. What's her deal? Why am I not allowed to even ask about her?" Mike was getting irritated with how uptight Leff was being.

"She used to work for a nightclub that one of my competition works out of. I was fucking a few of her coworkers but she had reached out to me about your mom once." Mike's attention was piqued.

"What do you mean?" Mike pressed.

"When your mom was trying to get her fix, she would go to places like that and try and score. Y/n kept an eye on her for me but her boss wasn't too happy about it...tried to have her dealt with." Leff explained.

"But she works for you now? How did that pan out?" Mike was confused.

"Technically I paid a fee to take her out of the night club. The club boss didn't care, my competition still tries to make moves to bring her back into the fold over there." Leff shook his head.

"How can you trust someone who worked for the competition?" Mike asked and caught Leff's gaze in the mirror again.

"She got her ass nearly cut into pieces for getting your mom out of a deal gone wrong. I saved her life, got her out of that assholes crew. She doesn't have to suck dick or get her ass beat over here. She's worked her ass off and has never said no to a tough task. She's the best worker I got." Leff wanted Mike to know the situation with Y/n and how important she was to his team. She was a trustworthy person and had even known his mom. Mike really wanted to ask her about his mom but he knew Leff would probably shut that down.

It was still something that was too hard to talk about.

"There she is. Keep your dumbass comments to yourself or I'll kick your ass." Leff popped the trunk as she approached and she tossed two large duffels into the trunk before climbing into the car. Mike was surprised she was so attractive. He knew she once worked at a nightclub but she had naturally beautiful features.

"Who's Brokeback Mountain?" Y/n tossed her thumb to the backseat.

"Oh fuck off." Mike groaned in annoyance.

"That's my nephew, Mike. He's apart of the team now." Leff started to drive and Y/n turned back to look at him.

"Is this a permanent look or are you going through a phase of sorts where you like to suck dick?" Y/n asked with a smirk.

"You're one to talk with lips like that. Are you going for New York homeless or DC prostitute?" Mike fought back.

"Mike!" Leff growled but Y/n laughed.

"Oh he's going to be fun. I like him already." She turned in the seat and extended her hand.

"Y/n, I will absolutely be ripping you to shreds verbally on the daily." She smiled brightly and Mike felt a little part of him melt a little before taking her hand and shaking it.

"Mike and I look forward to going toe to toe with you any day sweetheart." He shook her hand and she flicked his cowboy hat.

"So does the hat get you any pussy?" Y/n asked curiously and Mike smirked.

"Why? You want to get in line?" He teased making Y/n laugh.

"This one is going to be trouble, you know that right?" She looked over at Leff who glared at her.

"Don't encourage is dumbass behavior. It will get him killed." Leff gritted.

"He'll be okay. You know Sicky and I will take good care of him." She tried to reassure and Mike was curious as to the touch she gave Leff's shoulder. Maybe she was into Leff? He needed to talk to her and get her story before he let himself get too interested in her.

"So you knew my mom?" Mike asked abruptly and the care grew silent. She looked over her shoulder and nodded at him.

"I did. She talked about you a lot....I'm sorry how things ended." Y/n looked at him with remorse and he wasn't expecting her to look so effected by the mention of her. He made a note to ask her about what she knew when Leff wasn't around.

"Are we done making friendship bracelets and braiding each others hair" Leff asked breaking up the silence.

"Don't' be jealous Leff. We can get you a cowboy hat if you want." She openly teased Leff and her glared at her. There was so much about her Mike wanted to know.

[princess-glassred]

IT 2017 Role/Personality Swap AU

An au where everybody gets switched <3

Henry Bowers

Growing up with an abusive monster like butch Bowers is hard, but if you're strong enough you can overcome anything. That's what Henry always says anyways, he's only 12 years old and has been through hell and back, so the fact he's remained a kind, brave, sweet kid is quite miraculous. He's determined to help others and be a hero so nobody will ever have to go through what he did ever again. He feels immense guilt for what happened between his father and Connor and how he wasn't around to protect him, but that just makes him fight harder.

He suffers from awful nervous tics and anxiety due to his abusive upbringing, and people have bullied him for it for a long long time, but once again, something like that doesn't stop Henry, it just makes him fight back harder.

When fighting the evil comsic entity known as Maturin, Henry seeks guidance from the kindly creator of worlds, pennywise, via the moon. He urges Henry to save everyone and never stop fighting, even when he gets scared or feels like he can't go on.

He grows up to be a wonderfully successful artist, holding galleries and making paintings based off his complicated childhood.

Upon reuniting with his old friends Maturin tries to conjure up hallucinations of his father to scare him, but even that won't stop him.

Bill Denbrough

Bill Debrough is a 15 year old boy with a lot of issues. He's violent, abusive, cruel, and the sad part is he wasn't always like this.

Before his brother died Bill was a very happy kid, but after his funeral his parents became horrifically neglectful, until Bill felt he could only ever get attention by acting in the worst ways possible.

He's walking a tight rope of sanity, and unfortunately he loses his mind quite early on. On day, Maturin sends him a paper boat through after his parents yell at him that when unfolded, simply reads "kill them." over and over again. After killing his parents he attempts to kill the losers club and is promptly arrested by Butch Bowers and his partner, where he is then sent to juniper hills to rot for the next 27 years. Even inside of Juniper Hills Bill isn't safe, s Maturin gives him visions and makes Georgie's corpse visit him sometimes. The only solace Bill has anymore is writing, but to anyone else they look like the chicken scratches of a mad man. Just pages and pages and pages of "The turtle can't get us." over and over. Maturin eventually breaks Bill out via the rotting corpse of his old bestie, Ben Hanscom, and tells him to go kill the losers. He very nearly succeeds but is thankfully killed before he seriously hurts anyone.

Greta Keene

Greta Keene seems like she'd have it all, she's pretty, her dad's a rich pharmacist, and she lives up on the nicer side of town with all the other rich kids in Derry. Greta is hiding a secret though, a dirty dirty little secret. She likes girls. And ONLY girls. To overcompensate for this she often acts hypersexually and makes jokes about boys alot, which most people find annoying and gets alot of slut accusations thrown her way. She's bullied alot because of this, and the fact her dad is a known creep doesn't help with her reputation at all. When she's with her friends she's very sarcastic and quite sharp, often making jokingly mean girl esque comments to annoy them for fun. She does care about one of her friends though, especially one that she's been in love woth for the past 27 years.

She grows up to be a sucessful model with a relatively happy life, but her feelings for her friend and internalized homophobia prevent her from being truly happy. When she gets back to Derry she winds up having to confront her own painful queer upbringing, including a terrible incident at the mall that involved a misunderstsnding with Beverly Marsh, Bill Debrough, and a giant hyperfeminine mannequin chas her through the parking garage.

She eventually learns to accept these feelings as they are, but unfortunately her one true love is killed by maturin in the final battle. Before she leaves Derry for the last time though, she makes sure to stop by the kissing bridge and carve in a quick G+M to remember her by...

Richie Tozier

Richie Tozier is the kind of guy who just never grows up, son of the rich dentist Wentworth Tozier, Richie seems to have a real chip on his shoulder for no reason. It's pretty clear thst underneath all his petulant, bratty behavior, is a kid who hates his glasses and crooked teeth so much he lashes out at innocent people to make himself feel better about it. He makes a lot of cruel jokes at other people's expense, and particularly likes targeting Connor Bowers because he's queer. He's done all sorts of awful things to him, most notabley when he found him hiding in the boys bathroom stall, called him a fairy, and dumped a bag of trash over him. He never grows up or matures at all, staying in Derry forever and ever, working as his dad's receptionist, reading MAD magazines to pass the time away, and just generally being a loser who peaked in middle school.

Myra Kaspbrak

Poor Myra Kaspbrak was never taught how to be a kid. Her father took to adultifying her after her mother left, and that lead to a miriad of issues for Myra as she was expected to constantly worry about her younger siblings and fathers needs, but never her own.

She's picked on at school for being a fat, nervous wreck, and often called "mama" by Bill Denbrough and Richie Tozier. She just wants to be a kid, but that's impossible for her when she's never allowed to be free from her father's constant begging for attentioin and care. Her biggest fear takes the shape of a homeless leper that begs to be taken care of by her forever and ever, and the worst part is she never really gets to escape this life style.

She kinda gets coerced into marrying a man who acts and looks just like her father, some one who's problems with his own parent has turned him into a whining man baby who "needs" Myra to watch over him all the time.

When she goes back to Derry she has to stop by old Wentworth Toziers dentist office to retrieve a bracelet she lost there when she dropped her sister off for a check up. She's extra nervous about it because Richie's gonna be there ofc, and the last time they ever talked was when he scribble "LOSER" on a cast she got.

The check up with Wentworth takes a terrifying turn when he brings up the prospect of her having mouth cancer and it being an awful thing to go through because "You can't do anything with cancer. Can't eat, can't drink, can't take care of the people you love.".

She gets attacked by the leper again, but manages to make it out and back to her friends, but poor Myra ends up dying later on anyways.

All the losers are badly shaken up by this, but none more so than Greta, who actually confesses she was deeply in love with her but just never got the chance to admit it. It's all deeply sad, but at least she doesn't have to take care of anyone anymore...

Eddie Kaspbrak

Eddie Kaspbrak practicslly forced Myra to marry him, and he doesn't really care how it's affected her. He looks eerily similar to Myra's father, and acts eerily like him too, using things like weaponized incompetence and guilt tripping to make Myra stay with him and act like his mother.

He doesn't really care about Myra at all, and is just using her to fill the hole left by his abusive controlling mother that smothered him til he could hardly take care of himself. He likes to invent new illnesses and pretend to have them just to make her worry more, and when she tries to go back to Derry he cries that if she leaves he won't be able to remember to take his pills or use his inhaler or do pretty much anything.

The very last time Myra ever talks to him is when he obsessively calls her from his car and DEMANDS she stay on the phone and reassure him that he won't get in a car wreck.

Connor Bowers

Connor was forced to move in with his cousin and uncle butch sometime after his mom died, and sadly this was not a very happy or kind place to be.

Butch began to sexually abuse Connor after only about a year of living there, making sure to do it only when Henry wasn't around to see it.

The details of this abuse are too gorey to mention, but it deeply affected Connor and made an already isolated child feel even more isolated.

After one incident where Butch commented on how much he loved Connors cute curly hair though, Connor just kind of snapped and buzzed it all off in a fit of rage.

In addition to the sexual abuse, at school he would be picked on for being visibly queer and in the closet.

Many people just loved to call him slurs and beat the crap out of him, especially Richie Tozier, who actually seemed to be projecting his own closeted feelings onto him more than anything.

Henry probably would have helped Connor had he asked, but Butch often threatened to hit Henry more if Connor ever told him about what he was doing, so he just kept quiet about all of it.

He did find the strength to fight back on his own, stabbing butch in the neck and running off to the sewers with his cousin and friends, but child protective services ended splitting Henry and him up after they defeated Maturin.

As an adult Connor becomes a very famous game developer, having turned his coping mechanism of arcade games into a lucrative career. Unfortunately he winds up in a very similar situation to Myra though, where he hastily marries the first gay guy who will accept him, only to find out he's an abusive creep just like Butch.

After they were split up Henry and Connor kind of forgot the other existed, but they manage to reconnect through their fight with Maturin.

Connor does actually get a happy though, he manages to put his past behind him, get a much needed divorce, and runs off to go live with his cousin on a big yacht somewhere. Hooray!

Beverly Marsh

Nobody really knows what happened to Beverly Marsh, and frankly nobody wants to. She never left much of an impact on anyone, but the impact she left on Greta Keene fucked with her for basically her whole life.

They only met once, when Bev was visiting from portland to see her old friends, and she and the rest of the Denbrough gang decided it'd be fun to stop by the mall.

While Bill and his other friends were off at the food court, Bev stopped in a store to take a look around.

Greta was shopping there too, and once she noticed how lost Bev seemed to be in the make up aisle, Greta offered her some help.

They talked for a bit, Bev mentioning how she's not used to make up or being super feminine and Greta telling her which shades would match her skintone.

Looking back on it now, she was definitely crushing on Bev, but only because she reminded her a little bit of Myra.

After they were finished with the make up, Greta awkwardly asked if she'd like to look at the clothing racks with her, even offering to buy her something if she wants.

Before Bev could even respond though, Bill and the rest of the gang come looking for her and see them in a pretty compromising position.

In panic, she calls Greta a dyke and tells her to fuck off, catching her off gaurd and hurting Greta quite a bit.

Bill's reaction is even worse, not only because bill's homophobic, but he's had a crush on Bev for a WHILE.

Bill calls her some slurs and poor Greta runs as fast as she can until she finds herself in the parking garage.

She sits down snd cries alone for a while, until she hears some one call her name and noticed a massive, feminine, faceless manniquin bolting right for her.

Patrick Hockstetter

Patrick Hockstetter was never quite the same after his brothers death. Maturin took Avery Hockstetter right out of his crib and devoured him with out even a second thought.

Patrick had only caught a glimpse of the act, but that glimpse was enough to leave Patrick traumatized and emotionally stunted.

He didn't really show any emotions after avery died, or even much concern for his own well being either.

His development was either halted or started to regress, because he went from drawing fully fledged haoly pictures to just meaningless black and brown scribbles soon after.

Because of his lack of emotion, many people made a game out of messing with him, with even Bill Denbrough cornering him after school and carving his name into his stomache to see if he'd scream about it.

Patrick just kind of accepted he probably wouldn't be able to love anyone or anything properly due to his trauma, but then he met Henry and everything changed.

Something about Henry just made Patrick feel weird, but in the best way. He grew even more in love with Henry the more they hung out, and even wrote him an anonymous poem at one point to express how he felt.

He grows up to be a typical business man, and througy his fight with Maturin he's able to confess his feelings to Henry after 27 years of waiting.

In the end, he manages to actually marry Henry and have a wonderfully healthy relationship with him, in spite of his emotional issues.

Ben Hanscom

Due to the overwhelming isolation of constantly moving towns, Ben Hanscom developed solipsism at a pretty early age.

He's onlt fifteen, but he's utterly convinced he's god and the only real person in the entire universe.

Their constant moving also enables Ben to think none of his actions will really ever have consequences, since everytime they move it's like he starts with a new clean slate.

He does basically anything everything he wants, wether it he creeping in Bev and Bill, killing animals in a fridge, or just being a general weirdo, Ben doesn't care who he hurts.

There have been times when people try to mess withe Ben, crack jokes about his weight or threaten to beat him up, but Ben's quiteness and lack of caring quickly makes people leave him alone.

He views every situation analytically, studying everything he can about the places he moves to to see what chaos he can bring.

He help Bill attack Patrick outside the library at one point, and meets his end in the sewers when the corpse of a headless boy chases him through the tunnels and Maturin finds him.

He goes missing after that, only reemerging 27 years later when his corpse visits Bill Denbrough to help him escape.

Belch Huggins

Belch was picked on for his weight all the time growing up, in fact, that's where the nick name Belch came from, Stanley uris picking on him for how much he ate.

He took the nickname though and wore it like a badge of honor just to stick it to them, and it was a fighting spirit like that that made Belch the one who decided to stay behind in Derry of his own volition.

He never had any friends before the losers club, but their willingness to stick up for him made Belch feel like he was part of something important and meaningful for once in his life.

When everyone went their seperate way, Belch was devastated, especially because he knew in his heart Maturin wasn't dead for good.

So, he made the sacrifice to stay and research as much as he could on Derry.

He was woefully out of his element against a cosmic horror, considering he was just a white trash hick nobody, but he was determined to be prepared for the inevitable return.

He makes the calls to reuinite everyone, and to say he missed them all would be the understatment of the century.

They needed each other, and Belch is just so damn happy to have them back, even if Vic wasn't there to see it.

Mike Hanlon

Mike never meant to do more than have a little fun, he didn't expect getting wrapped up with Bill's friends would lead to his own death or cutting a kids stomache open, but it did, and there was little Mike could to stop it.

Homeschooled and raised on the outside, Mike just wanted to mess around with the other kids for a bit of a laugh, since it wasn't like he was gonna see them anytime except for summer.

There was no way for him to know just how fucking crazy Bill was gonna get though, and by then it was already too late.

He tried to get through to him and offer Bill a bit of support, but Bill was too far gone by then.

He tried to leave the group after that but Bill caught him and killed him along with Stan before he could ever even make it back home.

Vic Criss

Growing up in Derry, Vic's gender identity and sexuality was often called into question. He wasn't really gay or trans, but his love for fashion, hair and confidence in his appearance painted a big target on his back for bullies.

Vic never wanted to be a girl like some people thought, but sometimes he wished he was so he could enjoy his more feminine interests with out people insultiing him all the time.

Treatment like that made Vic a very worrisome kid, to the point some even found him prissy or a downright scaredy cat, which really only lead to more teasing.

He was by far the most reasonable member of the losers club back in the day, always thinking of the future and wether or not they even stood a chance against that turtle.

He never quite believed in the same way his friends did, and that lack of faith was what pushed him over the edge as an adult.

He found a lot of success later in life, becoming a magazine editor for the number one fashion magazine in the whole world, and even finding a wonderful lady to make his wife, but the fears from his childhood still had a hold on him.

Even though he promised to come back just like everyone else, Vic's insecurities about himself diminished all hope he had in defeating the turtle.

So... he took himself off the board.

Stanley Uris

There's not much to say about Stanley Uris, by far the least remarkable member of the Denbrough gang, but just because he's boring doesn't make him any less of a jerk than the others.

Being one of the very few jews in town, Stanley realized at a young age it was either whip or be whipped in a place like Derry, and quite frankly, Stan was a little too cowardly to accept the former.

So he started picking on people, it didn't matter who, gay kids, fat kids, poor kids, even some of the other jewish kids if it made his bestie Bill happy.

All in all his life was fairly normal for your average shitty bully, but then Bill went nuts and Stanley began to have some regrets about encouraging him so much.

All his regrets ended up being pretty useless though, becaude Bill killed him and Mike shortly after killing his parents.

Pennywise

The natural predator of Maturin, Pennywise is an objective force for good who loves every child in their own special way. He is the creator of worlds and takes on the guise of a friendly circus clown to appeal to kids, he tries to offer the losers as much guidance as possible with out interfering too much, and typically communicates with Henry through the moon. He tells the losers that deep down Maturin is terrified of them, and that they must hold no fear when confronting him. He sadly dies when Maturin manages to snuff out his dead lights, but his kind words to Henry stick with him til the final battle where they defeat the turtle.

Maturin

Maturin is a being of pure evil that feasts off fear, it takes the form of a massive godzilla esque turtle that lives in the sewers, but can shape shift into anything else it wants to scare you. It's only interests is feeding itself and has reigned over Derry for years.

He has many attempts to kill the losers, even sending Bill Denbrough to do it for him, but none of them end up working in the end.

Through the power of friendship the losers club make him shrivel down until he's nothing but a pathetic wrinkly reptillian mess, thus ending his reign of terror and setting Derry free.