#the horrors of us public ed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gurugirl · 1 year ago

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First Smutty One Shot (3.5k words)

in which Harry wants to buy your albums but then he realizes he wants a little something more from you or where Harry fucks you so you'll calm down

Again & Again (5.4k words)

in which lhh!Harry is your server and he takes you home after girl’s night is over or where lhh!Harry fucks you good, but comes too fast

Gonna Make You Mine (6k words) (mafia!harry)

extra

in which Harry is your boyfriend's boss and he wants to have you for himself or where Harry fucks you in front of your boyfriend

The Work Call (1.3k words)

in which you’re desperate for Harry’s attention when he’s ignoring you on a work call

Too Hard to Keep Quiet (678 words) (boyfriend!harry)

in which you and Harry try to keep it down while having sex in your childhood bedroom down the hall from your family

The Doctor & the Psychopath (9.7k words)

extra

in which Harry is facing serious assault charges and you’re the forensic psychologist tasked with analyzing him or where Harry manipulates you into having sex but you kind of like it

Music For a Festival (896 words)

in which you meet Harry, the lead singer of a local rock band, at a music festival and you bring him back to your tent

Thank You, Next (7.3k words)

extra

in which you are at a club with your very drunk boyfriend and you and Harry spot one another from across the room or where you meet lhh!Harry at a club while you're with your boyfriend and he fucks you in the bathroom

A Public Nuisance (1.6k words) (coworker!harry)

you and Harry are office coworkers and everyone’s out tonight at the local bar celebrating, but you and Harry find yourselves in a rather compromising position

Sex Ed With Harry (7.4k words) (innocent virgin!reader)

in which you’re a sweet, innocent, Christian, virgin and you meet Harry at a college party and he can show you a few things

Dirty & Rough (1.6k words)

reader ask:harry cheats on his gf with you and maybe not necessarily a breeding kink but cream pie kink ?? like, “i’m gonna stuff you so full of my cum”. veryyyy rough and degrading like he’s just using you to get off. “cumdump” etc..maybe he’s quite a bit older than u as well. face slapping, spit kink, as dirty as possible…you get me LOL

I Guess You're All Mine (11.9k words) (friends to lovers)

based on a true story: in which Harry is the hot drummer in your boyfriend’s band and he tells you a secret that changes everything

The Long Weekend (9.8k words) (friends to enemies to lovers)

extra

in which you and Harry hate one another but then things change

The Wedding Guest (4.5k words)

in which you meet Harry at a friend's wedding and show up at his hotel room the next morning to take him up on an offer he made you the night before

Lactation kink (700 words)

reader ask: I don't know if this sounds weird, but you would write one where the reader and Harry had a baby and while she and Harry are having sex, milk starts to come out of her breasts and he starts to suck

The Scientist & the Stripper (15.2k words) (nerd!harry | virgin!harry)

extra #1 | extra #2

in which virgin/nerd!Harry moves in next door to you and you invite him over for a small get together with friends where he gets more than he bargained for at the end of the night

On Halloween Morning (8.7k words) (ghost!harry)

a horror-filled Halloween one-shot. Harry is a ghost and you don't believe in ghostsbut you find out you were dead wrong.

Psoriasis Fluff (652 words)

reader ask: Heyy, how you doinggg!! Could u write smthg abt a reader with psoriasis.. maybe she's insecure to go out in a dress or smthg and harry helps her feel better. Mines been pretty bad recently and I could use some fluffrry (no smut)

Mixed Signals (9.5k words) (best friends to lovers)

bestfriends to lovers one shot - You and Harry have been best friends since you were children and now that you're both adults you can no longer deny the feelings that have been there all along

The Threesome (3.3k words) (Fratboy!Harry)

Harry's hot but he's nice and he's into you tonight

A Delicate Thing (7.6k words) (mafia boss!harry)

extra

Harry is a crime boss and he meets the woman of his dreams on an important night.

Tell Me You Hate Me (12.1k words) (male!reader | enemies to lovers)

Based on this request - You and Harry work together as bartenders and your relationship is hot and cold which infuriates you to no end. But you can't say you don't find him attractive, regardless of his cocky attitude.

The Italy Blurb (1.6k words) (boyfriend!harry)

reader prompt: some plotless smut featuring a little bit of jealous yn riding Harry's tiger & yacht sex.

Bad Morning (3.6k words) (professor!h x professor!yn)

You run late to an important meeting with your colleagues and Professor Styles decides to punish you.

Spiderman (4.2k words) (fratboy!harry | lhh!harry)

You’re at the big Halloween frat costume party and get to flirting with someone dressed as Spiderman. The tall, masked man with a deep voice just so happens to know a private spot to reveal his true identity to you.

The Ex (3.4k words) ex!harry

Harry's your ex-lover and you see him at a wedding after many years apart. You're both married but Harry proposes something that you have a hard time saying no to.

Nympho (4.5k words) nympho!poly!harry

Y/n is a nymphomaniac who just loves people. One day she happens upon a "harem" arrangement that seems perfect for her and her insatiable appetite. Loosely based on this Tumblr request.

Harry bruises your cervix - blurb (450 words) husband!harry

A quick filthy, requested blurb. Nothing more and nothing less.

Next Door Neighbors (7.8k words) neighbor!harry

Part 2 (5k words)

You just wanted peace and quiet and Harry just wanted to jam out in his garage for his birthday. So you decide to confront your new neighbor but things don't go as you planned.

The Fleshlight Blurb (1.5k) subrry

Harry has to go on a business trip without Y/n so she gets him a special toy to use while he's away and she tells him to send her a video of him using it.

The Handyman (11k words) the check-in (3.6k)

When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.

Breeding Kink Blurb (587 words)

Requested - just straight up smut

Sex Tutor (10k words) Part II (13k+ words)

Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

Daddy's Pretty Girl | dom!daddy!h (4.4k words)

Harry just wants to make his princess happy OR The story of you and Harry, how you met, and all the rest.

The Trio (3k words)

Three strangers meet at a club and things get sexy. Featuring a MMF threesome.

Baby Daddy (14k words)

After you have a one-night stand with your good friend Harry and become pregnant he doesn't know for certain that the baby is his, but he has his suspicions.

Little Flower (4.5k words)

You're startled during a power outage late one night when your co-worker, Harry, is at your door, drenched from the rain. How does he even know where you live? dark!harry | stalker!harry

Use Me Up (7k)

Harry's your boyfriend's best friend and he's very hard to resist. boyfriend's best friend!harry

Assistance Needed (3k)

Harry finds himself in an awkward position when you walk in on him in his office just as he's in the middle of something quite improper. ceo!harry x assistant!reader

The Babysitter (2k)

PART 2 (2.5K)

Based on this request: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in. dad!harry x babysitter!reader

She Likes To Watch (4.8k)

Harry and his wife have an interesting lifestyle but when they invite you over for a night of fun you realize you're more into it than you thought you'd be. hothusband!harry

Truth or Dare (6.7k)

Based on this request: Harry's never been to a slumber party so Y/n decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

The Mushroomer | friendly!ghost!harry (11.5k)

Based on this request: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.

Says Who? | demonrry (3.1k)

A Halloween Blurb! Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

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nightlyrequiem · 2 months ago

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You fed us 💗Hyper-fem × Valeria💗 (ty sm <3 ily) Now, would you mind sparing some

🩸Creepy-Goth × Valeria🩸?

AHHH I love the gothic subculture. I wanted to be goth when I was younger, but I was both too poor to buy any clothes and not crafty enough to make or alter my own. I also couldn't get into the music 😔

I'm not sure if you wanted a one-shot or headcanons but I feel headcanons will be best to cover everything!

Will forever have a place in my heart though <3

Valeria with a Goth S/O

A goth in a small town with a very warm climate is very uncommon. In all her thirty-eight years of living Valeria had never seen a goth person IRL. You were in such an odd place too. Well, not odd for normal-dressed dressed people. Seeing you in your long black flowing skirt with your layered black tops and tangles of jewelry caught her a little off guard. Even your makeup seemed unusual. White face with exaggerated eyeliner and contour, black lipstick. And you were just in a coffee shop ordering a coffee.

She approached you, because of course she did, she couldn't just not see what was going on. You were sat at a table by yourself with your laptop. Valeria's first ever words to you were "It's not Halloween yet." She thought it was funny, but you just gave her a singular bored look and went right back to ignoring her. You've heard it all.

Valeria eventually introduced herself like a normal person and asked genuine questions. You were so eloquent and poetic with your words. Using romantic language to explain your hobbies and interests to her.

It didn't take long for Valeria to snatch you up. She did her best to court you. Listened to all the songs and watched the movies you recommended her so she could have conversations about them with you. She even brought you 'animal' bones to add to your collection. Watching your eyes light up made her day.

Most people are weirded out when they find out you're into taxidermy and collecting bones. Why would you do that? That's so weird. You are unstable. Blah blah blah. Valeria didn't seem to mind though. Sometimes she'd even tag along when you went out in search of dead things. She'd even bring you roadkill, how romantic.

Your home is filled with cleaned bones, taxidermized animals, and dried plants. You were very proud to tell her that you cleaned some of the bones yourself. Which devolved into you explaining the process. A bucket filled with water, let it soak, add peroxide, get a toothbrush and carefully clean off any remaining skin or fur. Valeria admired how passionate you were about this.

Other people would've been weirded out. You've been compared to Leatherface and Ed Gein. It always saddened you that people couldn't see the beauty of it'. You were giving a dead thing a new purpose.

Valeria LOVED watching you get ready. Sometimes you'd have hauntingly beautiful music playing in the background or a horror movie. For obvious reasons, Valeria really liked that you weren't all that frightened about blood and gore.

Also, I definitely believe that Valeria has let you goth her up at least once. (And I think she secretly enjoyed it.)

Anyway, back to what I was saying, she likes to watch you get ready. Watching you tease and hairspray your hair was relaxing for her. Corsets, big boots, collard, ruffled blouses, long skirts. Your fingers always clad in chunky rings with bats or spiders or dark gems. Valeria proudly accompanies you in public, showing you off. Or so she thinks. You're really just running mundane errands.

Sometimes you'll say something odd or off-putting. Other people will give you weird looks but not Valeria. She adores how your mind works. She also loves how knowledgeable about bugs and spiders you are. She personally will kill spiders, but she's watched you pick up the non-venomous ones bare handed to either look at them closer or to release them. (I'm heavily projecting here because I love spiders. My favorite is the Goliath Bird Eating Spider, which lives in the rainforest areas of South America.)

She killed one in front of you and found out very fast that you did not like that. She wonders how you'd react to finding out she kills people too. With all the horror movies and books you read she'd think that you would be fine with that. You're very open and passionate about your world views though and Valeria knows you probably wouldn't be.

Like I said, you live in a warmer climate. Las Almas, Mexico to be exact. The scorching sun and all black, heavy clothes don't mix well. Valeria has taken up to carrying around icepacks and bottles of water. She also gifted you an umbrella to keep yourself shaded under1. Black of course. The canopy tapers into the outer ribs like a bat's wing.

Valeria likes it when you plan dates. It sounds cliche but you often set up dusk time picnics in the local cemetery. You're very respectful about the dead. Not trampling over the graves. Picnicking there isn't that bad anyway because the dead are probably happy to get some visitors.

Valeria loves you and all your quirks.

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 1 year ago

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It's Called Murder, Baby!

A Scream inspired AU starring our favorite Stranger Things characters.

Part I

Part 2 here

This is set in the 90's - all of the "teens" are in their mid to late 20's.

Synopsis: A string of gruesome murders take a toll on the small town of Hawkins. Friends and family start looking like suspects making it hard to trust those who you are closest to.

Chapter Summary: A double homicide has the entire town reeling.

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

This work will contain elements of violent themes (depictions of crime scenes, murders, etc) and smut.

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. AFAB!Reader. Character deaths/murders (does not go into heavy detail in this chapter). Semi-Public Sex. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie. Allusions of cheating (but not really).

Word Count: 4.7K

Freshly showered, towel wrapped around your body with your hair hanging down in damp tendrils around your shoulders, you entered your shared bedroom with a still snoozing boyfriend. Hearing the small snores escaping him you almost didn’t want to disturb him. Almost.

“Eds, come on, we’re going to be late.” You shook his sleeping form, leaning down, brushing his sleep mussed hair from his face to give him a soft kiss to his temple.

He groaned, rolling over on his back. “Just five more minutessss.” He whined.

“Get your ass up! I can’t be late again, and I thought you were excited for today?” Pulling some fresh panties from the drawer, unwrapping the towel and letting it fall to the floor as you bent down to pull them up your legs.

Eddie peeked an eye open to look at you now on display for him. He had the perfect view of your naked backside.

“Mmmm. Hey.… sweetheart, you sure you can’t be few minutes late?” Voice still groggy from sleep as he licked his lips, sitting up, palming his already hardening length under the covers.

You finished pulling the material up over your hips, placing your hands there giving him a stern, unamused look.

“That's a no, then?” He halted his movements, but his eyes still roved the expanse of your bare skin.

“You’re insatiable.” Rolling your eyes and ignoring him, instead moving to finish getting dressed.

“Uhhhh… fine!” He huffed, throwing his head back onto the pillows.

The fresh scrapes and small bruises on his right knuckles caught your eye when he moved his hand up the sheets.

“You ok?” you nodded to the purple splotches and angry, raised skin.

“M’fine.” he looked down at them.

“My poor baby,” cooing as you walked over and gently took his hand, bringing his knuckles to meet your lips.

He watched you intently, adam's apple bobbing with a swallow as you finished examining the small contusions.

“Ok well, see you in a few.” Kissing his stubble laced cheek before scurrying away, leaving him always wanting more.

Once he had showered and dressed himself, coveralls tied at his waist and hair pulled back into a low bun he bounded down the hall into the kitchen where he expected to find you.

“Babe?” He called out, opening the fridge, grabbing the milk to make himself a quick breakfast.

“In here Eds.” Voice drifting from the living room.

He hummed to himself, taking a bowl from the shelf before adding his honeycombs.

“Holy shit! Eddie!” Your high-pitched tone startled him, nearly dropping the milk. He immediately sat it on the counter jogging over to where you sat on the couch.

“What? What's wrong?” He asked, eyes nervously scanning over you.

Your hand covered your mouth, as you pointed to the TV that your eyes were glued to.

“Look!” You exclaimed, already reaching for the remote to increase the volume.

You both watched in abject horror as the camera panned to EMS personnel pushing a gurney across a manicured lawn. It was evident a body lay beneath the white sheet.

A reporter for the state news came into focus, her microphone clutched close to her chest. The petite brunette was in Hawkins, in front of a home you both immediately recognized.

“This small town has been rocked by a gruesome discovery. Earlier this morning, the bodies of Jason Carver and his fiancé, Chrissy Cunningham were found by a family member. Preliminary reports indicate they were brutally attacked. No comment from Sheriff Hopper or Chief Deputy Harrington to confirm any other details for this ongoing investigation.”

“Eds?” You asked, eyes drifting to him momentarily.

“I've got to get to work!” You jumped up from the couch, running past him to slip on your heels and grabbing your small briefcase. “Let's go! Holy shit this huge!”

“Yeah, we can go. Let me grab my keys.” He was still attuned to the TV, but finally snapped out of it, plucking the keys from the bowl by the door and following you.

Your car was still in the shop, Eddie had been working on it for the past couple of days so he'd been dropping you off before heading in each day.

He still drove his van from high school. He knew enough about cars that he kept the old gal going; always stating there was no need to waste money on some new shiny toy when we've got old faithful. He was right.

You had to drive by the station on your way. Traffic was basically at a standstill. Various news vans precariously parked all around the building and roadway waiting to catch a glimpse of Hopper or Steve to ascertain any other details they might provide.

“Great, more attention than those assholes deserve.” Eddie mumbled under his breath. It was a double homicide, but you wondered had it been anyone else murdered would there be this much news media.

“Eds, be nice.” You soothed. “Besides, Chrissy wasn’t an asshole. She may have been bitchy at times, but she was always nice to me.”

“Yeah, to you. Need I remind you that bitch stiffed me the last time I fixed her fuckin’ car? We almost missed rent that month because of that bullshit.”

He reached for his pack of smokes, taking one between his lips and lighting it as he continued. “As if Carver couldn’t afford it? What a fuckin’ joke.”

“I’m sorry babe, but we won't have to worry about that happening again.” Giving him a small smile.

You gave yourself a once over, checking your makeup and hair in the mirror before shutting the visor.

“Eds, I'll walk the rest of the way.”

You leaned over the console kissing his cheek, but he grabbed your wrist when you turned before you could grab the handle.

“Are you sure? I can go around.” He was already checking the rear view to see if he could back up.

“No, it's ok. Maybe I can find Steve before heading over. See if I can get anything out of him.” You surveyed the building to see if any deputies were outside.

“Hey, I love you.” Grabbing your attention. “Go knock 'em dead.”

“I love you baby, but that's a little insensitive. People just died.” You leaned back over, placing a peck to his lips.

“Right,” he grinned. “Break a leg?”

“Bye Eddie.” Rolling your eyes but still blowing him a kiss once you closed the door and watched him drive away.

You knew you could get into the Sheriff's station around the side because you do it numerous times a week. Navigating around the other reporters and crew didn’t take long, some of them watching suspiciously as you went.

A door on the side of the station at the back of the alleyway that reads “STAFF ONLY” painted in bright yellow stops you only briefly. You peer through the small window, catching those bright blue eyes of the one and only Robin Buckley giving her a smile and wave.

She smiles up at you in return, getting up from her desk.

“Hey,” as she opens the door ushering you in. “Was wondering if you’d swing by today.”

Robin works reception for the station. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but Steve had talked her into taking the job once he had gotten back from the academy and was hired full time. She wouldn’t admit it, but she enjoyed it. She was able to stay in the loop for most of the town gossip.

A quick hug hello and you followed her to the employee break room. Really more like a closet with a coffee maker and a small table with two chairs. It was cramped with only the two of you.

“Is he in yet?” you asked as she poured herself some coffee in a paper cup.

“What? No chit chat? Can’t pretend to be here for friendly conversation instead of business?” She brought the cup to her lips and took a sip, eyeing you over the rim. “Yeah, he’s in his office, but he’s in a mood today.”

“I think I can handle him. Thanks Rob!” as you headed down the hall.

It was a small operation. The reception area, with three desks; one was Robin’s situated up front and the other two were for Calvin Powell and Phil Callahan the other two deputies on payroll.

Down the hall past the breakroom, Hopper’s office was at the end. Steve’s was beside it to the right.

His door was closed, a brass plaque that read “Chief Deputy Steve Harrington” adorned the wooden surface. You took a moment smoothing your skirt, and straightening your top before lifting your hand to knock.

“Yeah?” His voice came muffled through the doorway.

You took it as an invitation, popping your head in.

He didn’t look up, papers and photos spread out in front of him. His brows knit in concentration as his hair was beginning to edge past his forehead from looking down all morning. You noted he needed a haircut. He kept it shorter these days but it was starting to curl at the ends.

He was dressed in his camel-colored uniform, sans his duty belt hung on the coat rack in the corner. It made him look so handsome, clean cut. A good upgrade from the polos he used to wear daily. Badge worn with pride, pinned to his chest.

“Hey stranger!” You finally spoke, scooting yourself into the room and letting the door fall closed behind you.

His eyes darted up when he heard your voice. Face lighting up with your presence, shooting you that million-dollar smile.

“Hey, you,” he shut the file in front of him, pushing it off to the side. “As much as I enjoy your company, you really shouldn’t be here today. If Hop catches you, it’ll be both our asses.”

“I swear, I’ll be quick.” You took the seat in front of him. “Anything you could tell me about what went down?” Batting your lashes as you spoke.

He sighed, sitting up a little straighter, folding his hand on the desk. “You know I can’t right now.”

“Steve, please? I need this. You know how big this would be for me?” You put on your best doe eyes, pouting your lip just a bit. It would nearly work every time. “Pretty please?”

He rolled his eyes, but his face softened. You knew you had him.

“Fine, I’ll give you one thing.” He held up his pointer finger for emphasis.

“OK! Anything!” You took your pad from your briefcase, pen in hand and waited for him to continue.

“Put that down, come here.” Nodding toward the space beside him.

You ease from your position and round the large wooden desk, but instead of showing you something from the case file he pulls you into his lap.

You let out a squeak of surprise as your hand lands on his chest but can’t feel his usual warmth through the layers of fabric and added vest.

A large hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other cradles your cheek and jaw, turning your face towards his. You can feel your heart begin to hammer against your chest.

“I can give you this.” His nose nudging yours as he spoke.

Quickly closing the gap, his warm, waiting lips meld into yours as you wrap your hand around his neck, pulling him closer.

Pliant to his movements, allowing his tongue entry with no hesitation as they begin to move against one another. The taste of nicotine was faintly there mixed with his morning coffee.

The seconds ticked by before finally breaking apart, foreheads resting together as you try to catch your breath. Small pants being exchanged in the space between you.

His voice came out a little strained, “It’s been too long.” Closing his eyes as he said it.

“Steve, it’s only been a couple of days.” You let out a small breathy laugh.

He tilted your head to have better access to your neck, his nose following the curve of your jaw peppering kisses as he eased his way down.

“Baby, I’ve got to get over to the post. I'm already running late.” You moved to get up, as he pouted, hands trying, longing to pull you back in.

He relented and watched as you slipped out of your heels, and quickly moved to lock the door. Looking over your shoulder with a devilish glint in your eye.

“Better make it quick.” You smirked.

You’d never seen him move so quickly. The office held a small loveseat in the corner that he immediately moved over to and planted himself back down.

His cock was outlined in his police issued khakis, straining against the fabric as he began to palm himself watching you with already half-lidded eyes. It didn’t take much for him to get riled up. Steve was wrapped around your finger.

Time was short, foreplay would almost be non-existent, which he hated. He loved nothing more than to take his time. Working you up so you’d be gushing around him.

He gave you an outstretched palm when you got close, gripping your hand helping you to balance as you straddled him. Your skirt bunched at the waist, as your clothed core brushed up against his already throbbing hard-on, making your legs give out the slightest as you caged in around his.

Once you were seated, he moved his hands up your bare thighs, stopping when he reached the edge of your panties. Pussy straddling his hard length, as you felt it kick up beneath you causing a fresh wave of arousal as you clenched around nothing.

You thread your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck and toyed with the collar of his shirt as you looked into those usually caramel-colored eyes blown so full of lust that only the faintest ring of color still existed at the edges.

You leaned down, taking his lips once more as you ground your hips into his eliciting moans from both of you.

“Honey, if we had all the time in the world, I’d worship your body but we probably have ten minutes max before Robin tries to bust through that door.” He pecked your lips and moved his hand to your still clothed core.

He moved your panties to the side, running a finger gently through your folds, barely grazing your clit as he eased up. The faint touch was enough to make you jolt forward.

“Already wet, baby?” he cooed.

“Mmmm… Yeah Stevie, always for you.”

He eased his way back down collecting some of your slick before moving back up, applying more pressure to your bundle of nerves, drawing small circles there.

Your back arched and your toes curled. He barely touched you but it felt as though you were already teetering on the edge.

“Steve, I need you.” You breathed out.

“I’ve got you baby.” He kissed your cheek, “You wanna help me out?”

His eyes and fingers never left you as you scooted back giving yourself enough room to reach down, undoing his belt.

You fumbled just a bit as he momentarily stopped his ministrations to let out a breathy chuckle.

The zipper gave with ease as you were able to reach into his briefs. Your hand grazed his shaft as he hissed at the contact.

You removed him from his confinements, wrapping your hand around his girthy member. Your thumb slid over his fat mushroom tip as you smeared a bead of precum around and edged your way back down.

“Fuck, honey.” His head fell back against the couch, jaw going slack, and closing his eyes.

You were just as bad off as he was right now, so you opted to put the both of you out of your misery. You gently eased his hand from you and slid the material back to the side sitting up just enough to slide his bare cock through your folds.

As soon as his tip caught your entrance, you started the slow descent, moaning in unison at the feeling, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You knew there would be a sting. There always was but with no foreplay or orgasm already drawn, it was almost too much.

Inch by delicious inch you bullied your way down onto him until he was finally seated snug inside of your tight heat. You raised your hips, just to slam them back down as you let out a particularly loud moan.

He quickly pulled you up, placing his palm over your mouth as his other hand wound around your waist, halting your movement.

“Shhhh babydoll, you’ve got to be quiet.” His eyes shifting momentarily to the closed door. “We can’t let anyone hear.”

You nodded but he didn’t remove his hand, instead tightening his hold on your waist as he started to piston his hips instead, fucking up into you.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, hands now clutching his shirt where they were planted on his chest.

“It’s probably better if I take over, huh?” Each word punctuated with an upward thrust. Punching the air from your lungs each time.

All you could do is nod once more.

His cock was hitting that sweet spongy spot as the wiry hairs at the base of his cock was hitting your clit just right. Your orgasm was fast approaching.

You couldn’t warn him as your walls fluttered and began to clamp down around him as a muffled scream came out.

“Oh shit, honey. Cumming already?” he mocked. “Guess you missed me too.”

Your orgasm washed over you, his cock relentlessly massaging your walls, working you through it. A few more sloppy thrusts he followed behind with a low groan, as he painted your walls with his hot, sticky spend.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He softly spoke.

He lowered his hand from your mouth and kissed your forehead as you collapsed forward.

“Fuck, Steve.” You huffed a heavy sigh, looking at your watch with a groan.

“Shit, I've got to go,” you pushed off him and stood as he quickly tucked himself back into his pants and smoothed his hair back into place.

“They were both stabbed.” He huffed out as he stood.

“Huh?” With the post orgasmic haze still lingering you couldn’t fully process what he said.

“You wanted something. Jason and Chrissy. They were stabbed. Chrissy was worse. Whoever did this, it feels personal.” He looked to the floor. “She was strung up and practically gutted.”

Your stomach lurched at the thought of the crime scene. You slowly gather your things; Smoothing out your skirt and fixing your top before slipping back into your heels.

“Thank you,” you kissed his cheek and brushed past him, hand settled on the lock, clicking it back into place and opening the door.

“Could I see you again later? My place?” He said in a more hushed tone that halted your movement as you looked back at him.

His eyes were back to their caramel swirls, pleadingly staring at you.

“I can't. My car is still in the shop and Eddie's got me on kind of a tight leash right now.”

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, with a tight lipped smile.

You started to apologize but he quickly turned away from you.

“Can you close that on your way out?”

Your gaze lingered on him for a moment, “yeah, I got it.” Easing yourself into the hallway and closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Each time you left him like this it got a little harder. Telling yourself it's easier this way. You have a good fuck and go back home. Feelings are messy so you keep him at an arm's length.

You caught your reflection in the mirror on the way out. You reapplied your lipstick, swiping an errant smudge and fixing a few stray hairs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The voice of deputy Callahan, suddenly right in your space. “Sheriff said no press.” He crossed his arms looking down his nose at you.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just here visiting friends. As if you don’t see me here at least once a week.” You made to walk past him but he stood in your way blocking the small hallway.

“Excuse me.”

He didn't budge. Only moving his face closer to yours. Trying to be intimidating only making you raise an eyebrow in question. He was a piss poor excuse for a cop, an even worse man.

“Right, a visit. Like no one knows why you come by. Or why Harrington's door is always locked.” He donned a sickly-sweet smile, before it was quickly wiped away by Steve’s booming voice coming from behind you.

“Callahan! Need to get something off your chest?”

He stood a few feet away with one hand on his hip, the other resting on the gun in his belt. He was intimidating. His very essence exuded confidence.

Callahan's head snapped up. Eyes wide with shock from being caught.

“Uh, no Chief… j… just escorting the press off the premises. Like the Sheriff asked.” his shoulders deflated just a bit under the other man’s hardened gaze.

You skirted past him, not bothering to look at the asshole in front of you instead catching Steve’s eyes over the other man's shoulder, throwing him a wink and a smirk before slipping back down the hall.

You quickly said your goodbye to Robin before exiting out the front.

The news reporters perked up but were quickly discouraged when they noticed you weren’t who they were hoping for. You smiled to yourself knowing you were about to go break the story that everyone wanted to know.

Hawkins Post was just a block down from the station. You were running exceptionally late, even by your standards but you were sure you could smooth it over with the boss once he heard the news you were about to drop.

Starting work straight out of high school for the post was hard. A woman in a man’s world. Nancy and you starting at the bottom, working your way up, now getting stories published at least once a week.

You burst through the door to see everyone scrambling about, no doubt working an angle. Clawing over each other for something newsworthy that hadn’t already been released. You weren’t worried about who you needed to run over to get it first.

Scanning the room, you spot Nancy in what looked like a heated conversation with Fred Benson. She was dressed in her usual skirt with matching suit jacket, hair perfectly in place as always.

She stopped mid-sentence once she spotted you.

“Finally!” she marched over, immediately grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward a quiet corner. For a petite woman, she could be very intimidating, downright scary at times.

“Good morning to you too Nance.” You said, as she turned you face to face and leaned in.

“Can you believe this?” She quietly hissed, eyes quickly scanning the room to see if anyone was watching the two of you.

“Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham?” She shook her head in disbelief. “It’s just… crazy. Who would do this?”

Her big eyes finally looked back up expectantly.

“What?” you asked.

“Please tell me the reason you were late is that you have something and not because you couldn’t get Eddie out of bed again.”

“Well, Nance,” you laughed, “it’s a little of both so…”

“Thank God!” she reached out and grabbed your shoulders pulling you in for a quick hug. “We've got a meeting with Holloway in an hour!”

Tom was a hard ass, misogynistic bastard but he knew good news when he heard it and was a damn good Chief Editor.

“And you have a good source for this?” He looked up from an article he was editing, eyeing you from above the edge of his glasses placed at the end of his nose.

“The best! When have I ever steered you wrong Chief?” You flashed him your brightest smile.

“Ladies, you know we have to tread carefully here. This wasn’t just any homicide. You both know Jason’s dad owns the Post.” He huffed, knowing his hands were a little tied on this one.

“I’m going to be as tactful as possible here. We can leave out the worst of the how, but I also had an anonymous tip that looks like it’s going to pan out.”

He raised his brows, “I’m listening.”

Nancy wasn’t sure where this was going, looking over at you with a confused look.

“The investigating officers found a mask at the scene. It’s mass-produced, sold as part of a Halloween costume. Some peanut eyed ghost guy. Hard to trace. Hell, I bet Melvald’s had the same one on their shelves this past Halloween.”

You could feel Nancy’s eyes boring into the side of your face. You had shared the information with her on the way to talk to Tom but left out this little detail.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, while you waited with bated breath.

“Okay, write it up! I want it in an hour! And remember, tactful!”

“On it Chief!” you jumped from your chair; Nancy hot on your heels as she followed you to your small desk. Taking her seat right beside yours, gathering some notes in front of her.

“You got an anonymous tip?” She asked.

“Huh? Yeah. I got a call right before our meeting.” You answered without looking up from typing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know… I…” Your phone ringing abruptly pausing the conversation, for which you were grateful. “Hold that thought Nance.”

“Hawkins Post,” you cheerfully greeted.

“Hey sweetheart! How’d it go?” Eddie’s velvety voice came through.

“I got the byline baby! Tom is going to let me run with it.” You couldn’t contain the enthusiasm, even with the nature of the article.

“I guess visiting your boy toy paid off, huh?” he huffed a small laugh.

“Jealous?” twirling the cord with your finger.

“Nah, I got nothin’ to worry about, we both know who you come home to, ‘sides,” he lowered his voice an octave, whispering through the receiver. “You know who that sweet pussy really belongs to, huh sweetheart?”

His words went straight to your core, making you subconsciously rub your legs together under the desk. He really knew what he was doing.

“Bet you're squirming in that seat thinking about my cock right now.”

“M’hmmm.” All you could reply.

“I know you are sweet thing, but” voice back to normal, “I’ll see you later. Boss wants to see me and Billy both in his office. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck Eds. Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart. I’ll see you this afternoon.” He hung up. You turned toward Nance only finding an empty seat; now nowhere to be seen so instead, you got back to work.

By noon, you were staring at a front-page article printed with your name and a breaking story that no one saw coming.

Dubbed the ‘Ghostface’ Killer, this apparent masked maniac prayed on two of this little town's prominent souls without seemingly any remorse.

Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham were found brutally slain in their shared home earlier this morning by a family member, Chrissy’s mother Laura Cunningham, after numerous phone calls to reach the couple were all in vain. (She declined to comment).

An anonymous source states that the couple was stabbed to death. Due to the nature of the crime, it seems very personal. Details have not yet been released. (No comment from Roane County Sheriff Jim Hopper or Chief Deputy Steve Harrington at this time.)

An anonymous tip has also noted that the investigating officers found a mass-produced Halloween mask at the scene. This particular mask was sold in stores all over the city and state this past Halloween making it practically impossible to trace. (No comment from Roane County Sheriff Jim Hopper or Chief Deputy Steve Harrington at this time.)

A crime of this caliber hasn’t rocked the quiet town of Hawkins since the death of Principal Ronald Higgins in the Spring of 1986 by one of Hawkin’s High School students Henry Creel.

More to come as this story unfolds.

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stevesbipanic · 1 year ago

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@steddiemas Day 4: Gremlins and December by Neck Deep

It had been almost a year since Tommy had been back in Hawkins, not since last winter break. He tried to avoid coming back but he knew after missing Thanksgiving his mom would insist on Christmas.

He didn't even know that Steve worked at Family Video, last he'd heard he'd not gotten into college and worked at the mall, which of course had burned down.

His mother didn't talk about the Harrington's much anymore, apparently after the earthquake last Spring they just sold the house and left for good. He'd assumed Steve had gone with them. He wished his mom talked about Steve more, maybe then he wouldn't be here now.

He'd just gone to Family Video to pick up some tapes for his younger cousins so they'd stop causing such a racket. He immediately stopped once he entered the store.

"I'm telling you, Stevie, Gremlins is a great Christmas movie, plus it reminds you of our little gremlins."

Eddie Munson? Talking to Steve? Stevie? Steve hated the name Stevie, he'd tried calling him Stevie once and he'd told Tommy to fuck off. Now the Freak is just using it like it's nothing?!

"It's a horror movie, Eds, I want to watch something cozy tonight."

Eds! He's talking to Munson like they're, like they're friends!? And they're going to hang out and watch a movie! Tommy was still frozen in the doorway, the other boys didn't seem to have even heard the bell.

"Aw sweetheart, do you want to get all cuddly on the couch with me, make ya Wayne's cocoa and everything," Munson smirked.

Well now at least the Freak would get put in his place, Steve wasn't going to let a guy flirt with him, not in public at least, surely.

"What if I do baby? You gonna keep me warm?"

WAS HE FLIRTING BACK...AND BLUSHING!?

"You know what would be great to cuddle to? Gremlins, you can cuddle into me and I'll protect you from all the little monsters, angel."

Steve was rolling his eyes affectionately and Tommy wished for another earthquake just so the ground would swallow him where he stood. He couldn't take this anymore and turned around, storming back out of the store. The other boys didn't even look up, too enamoured with each other.

Fuck Eddie Munson. What did he have that Tommy didn't? What made Steve want him outside of closed doors. He thought a year away would fix how he thought about the golden boy.

But what Tommy couldn't offer was a home, was an understanding of a father that wasn't around, a mother who never called, and an empty house to go home to.

"I hope he's happy, and gets everything he wants."

At least that was one lesson learned, not to pick fights he couldn't win. So he returned home, no tapes in hand, it would be a long lonely December.

Ao3

#outsider pov #steddiemas #stommy #unrequited tho #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet

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friendo · 2 months ago

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Have you or a loved one been plagued by horny visions of Anton Chigurh from the hit 2007 Coen Brothers film No Country For Old Men based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy???

Well buckle up for ANTON FRIDAYS, where I’ll be posting 1 to 3 reader x Anton fics every Friday for the rest of the year!

(There will be 31 fics in total! I can’t keep up with kinktober because work is insane for me this time of year and I have not had a proper rest in 2 months, so I decided to do my own thing!)

Each fic will either include a gender-neutral reader (i.e. reader can be read as any gender, no pronouns or specific genitalia descriptors are used), or will include 2 chapters both with gender neutral pronouns, with one geared towards an AFAB reader and one for an AMAB reader.

Each month will have a bit of a theme, as well!

For October, I decided to mash my love of horror movies and NCFOM together to do a lot of horror-adjacent fics, so gear up for some AUs featuring slasher Anton, vampire Anton, phone stalker Anton, and more, as well as general macabre-themed fics.

For November, the leaves are changing so we’re doing some switching – this month’s fics will have Anton taking on a more submissive position!

And for December, is it getting a bit cold in here? Or is it just Anton being Anton? This month will be focused on...well, Anton being a bit mean, for lack of a better word.

(NOTE: Titles and release order are subject to change!)

Here's the prompt list below the cut! I'll be updating the list with links as I post them to my AO3.

OCTOBER

5th: Blood Oath

Featuring: Vampire Anton, bloodplay, biting (of course)

11th: Trapped Under Moonlight

Featuring: Werewolf Anton, knotting, scratching scratching biting biting more scratching clawing etc etc

18th: The Reverend of Second Chances

Featuring: Reverend Anton, cheirophilia, religious undertones

Inspired by The Night of the Hunter (1955)

18th: It’s For You

Featuring: Phone stalking, breaking & entering, voyeurism

Inspired by Black Christmas (1974)

25th: A Haunting in Texas

Featuring: Ghost Anton, poltergeist shenanigans, wet dreams

25th: Beyond The Pale

Featuring: Necrophilia, questionable Anton behavior, disgust and desire are one and the same

25th: Moving in Shadows

Featuring: Nyctophobia, hate sex in the dark, predator/prey

31st: Your Pound of Flesh

Featuring: Cannibal reader, willing victim Anton, love hurts

Inspired by Raw (2016)

31st: On a Short Leash

Featuring: Petplay, collaring, vibrators

31st: The Thrill of the Hunt(ed)

Featuring: Slasher Anton, gore, predator/play dynamics

(Despite the 31st being on a Thursday, I couldn’t not post on Halloween!)

NOVEMBER

8th: To Ruin You

Featuring: Omorashi, watersports, bathroom denial

A loose sequel to my fic Self-Control

8th: Pretty Pleas

Featuring: Begging, orgasm denial, oral sex

8th: A Lesson in Self-Restraint

Featuring: Strip teasing, demanding, a tied-up Anton

15th: Three’s a Crowd

Featuring: Anton x Carson x reader threesome, bisexual antics, somebody’s getting spitroasted

15th: Sweet Release

Featuring: Lactation, nipple play

15th: Fingertips

Featuring: Tickling, dubcon

22nd: The Taste of You

Featuring: Lots of sweat, stuck in the heat, car sex, body worship

22nd: Your Special Project

Featuring: Emetophilia, medical play

Will eventually be made into a series

29th: A Job Well Done

Featuring: Sex toys, praise

29th: Chlorine and Salt

Featuring: Public sex, poolside, edging

DECEMBER

6th: Ice Water

Featuring: Temperature play, shower sex, mutual masturbation

6th: Firebug

Featuring: Fireplay, branding, arson

6th: Iron and Grease

Featuring: Boot licking, teeth pulling, face stepping

A loose sequel to my fic Lick the Boot That Kicks You

13th: Words Like Knives and Razor Wire

Featuring: Name-calling, humiliation, spitting

13th: Quiet in the Alley

Featuring: Public sex, against a wall, under pressure

13th: Backseat Blues (AKA The Gas Station Dick Pills Incident of 1983)

Featuring: Forced erection, insatiable urges, car sex

20th: Don’t Hesitate

Featuring: Consensual noncon, roleplay, Anton wants to try something new

20th: Performance Review

Featuring: Office setting, after-hours trysts, Anton in that suit at the end of the book

Inspired by Secretary (2002)

20th: Justified Rage

Featuring: Enemies, hate sex, violent sex, dubious consent

27th: Tears Are Not Enough

Featuring: Dacryphilia, high reader, manipulation, kind of a funny one tbh

27th: Tame You

Featuring: Massages, back scratching, happy ending (literally)

#anton chigurh #no country for old men #ao3 #antonposting #friendo fic #friendoedits

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thevividgreenmoss · 9 months ago

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Matthew Weiner grasped at something beyond his daily-historical consciousness with Mad Men, which on one hand is part of the reason for making/sharing/experiencing art, but on the other hand the missapprehensions embedded within that consciousness play a huge part in him misapprehending his own* art as well as his role in its creation - the environment he cultivated within the writers room he administered, his documented harassment of the women he worked with, his incomprehension of the fact that Pete Campbell raped that au pair, that the wistful little etymology lesson that sets it up does nothing to obscure or negate the deeply fascistic impulse ingrained within Rachel Menken's claim that Israel "simply has to be", that the ending of his* show is not and can not be nearly as optimistic or hopeful as he-we might like to think.

The third quarter of the Clippers-Bulls just ended and I have neither patience for nor interest in American sentimentality.

Various notes of grace may play individual characters off the screen in the final episode and yes that may allow us to leave them a bit more at peace with themselves and each other than we found them in the pilot but the American society & nation to which they belong they belong is if anything far less at peace with itself in 1970 than it was in 1960 and all the way through 2024 it will continue along those same lines while also - although this part is probably a matter of lesser import to Weiner (but also likely the majority of his collaborators and audience) than things that primarily directly affect/ed real people ie American citizens whether it be the dissolution of the keynesian welfare state or the election of Donald Trump - continuing to inflict the most savage and brutal imperial horrors upon the rest of the world.

The game has ended, Clips won.

What inner peace drops a man back into the corner office from whose window he flung himself in the first place? If the fall was broken by an armchair behind the desk where he'd settle back in to launder the public image of a multinational conglomerate that steals water from indigenous people and pays mercenaries to murder those that dare to identify the theft might it not have been preferable to keep falling?

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months ago

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Wondering what kind of shenanigans you foresee Meghan trying to pull re: Kamala Harris? I’ve seen a puff piece claiming “Meghan would love to endorse Harris” floating around but that was last week when people with much bigger names actually were coming out to endorse. That article mentioned that Meghan had been in close touch with Shannon Watts (Moms Demand Action co-founder) who organized a fundraising zoom call for Harris last week that had several celebrities on it, but if Meghan was on the call then she wasn’t asked to speak or wasn’t mentioned. I think you’ve said before that most people in politics have already figured Meghan out, but I can’t help but think she’s going to be desperate to try and do something, especially considering both she and Harris are mixed-race California women. In my own personal opinion, if the Obama’s won’t touch her with a ten foot pole then neither will Harris, and the last thing a serious presidential candidate should want to do is give the time of day to someone who has public beef with one of our best allies…but who knows

*not trying to start a political debate on your blog. I simply am curious as to your thoughts on if/how Meghan will try to hijack this moment, and what her success level will be.

There was gossip a couple months back that Meghan and Harry were planning to contribute to the election in some way again - my thought was that they were probably going to do another GOTV video, even though it was widely panned and criticized.

But now that the race has changed and the presumptive nominee is Kamala Harris? I’m actually not so sure anymore. Kamala and her team would be fully aware, and wary, of the way Meghan operates, given their relationships in California politics, friendships with the Obamas and Bidens, and Kamala’s position in the party.

Will Meghan try to get in and do some politicking? Absolutely. But the campaign will probably keep her at arm’s distance because they know all the dirt and the closest Meghan will get to them is a sudsy public service announcement on the importance of voting or maybe a spot at a closed-door private fundraising dinner hosted by a WME connection.

Will Meghan try to manifest a relationship or a connection with Kamala? Absolutely, again. In fact it’s already started - @the-empress-7 pointed out yesterday that Meghan’s press releases and emails have begun using vocabulary and style that mimics Kamala’s speeches. So the subtle SEO work is in progress, and I would expect it to ramp up in the coming weeks as the Democrats come to Chicago for the convention.

Speaking of Chicago, Harry’s been to Chicago a few times for work with the Obamas. And let’s not forget that Meghan went to college in Chicago (technically, in the metropolitan area of Chicago but she doesn’t care about facts). So there are increasing odds that we *might* see the Sussexes in Chicago. My theory is we’ll see her GOTV ad during the convention primetime air slots.

Since Meghan seems to be on a new kick with Moms Demand Action (because mom is her latest rebranding) and it ties in nicely with Harry’s security salvo from last week about how dangerous the UK is (which certainly isn’t helped by what happened in Southport yesterday), my feeling is that she may be trying to wedge herself in the door through them. But how will she act? There’s a few possibilities:

Another NYT op-ed endorsing Kamala.

In a “(identity politics) for Harris” call/conference.

Through some magazine article feature story because it’s time for her to win another award.

A special episode of her podcast, now hosted at Lemonada.

I can’t say why, but my gut is saying it’s going to be an op-ed of some kind or an appearance at an issues-based conference/summit that no one’s heard about. Because Meghan is uniquely qualified more than anyone to speak on the horrors of having to live under constant threat of danger just to do ordinary things in her ordinary life…which she will say with left eye, one tear, go to parents that have lost their children to school violence and everyone will be uncomfortable.

I’ll end it with this. If it’s true that Harry will be spending 4+ weeks in the UK soon, we should fully expect Meghan to go nuts with paparazzi stunts and appearances, as she usually does when Harry’s away. We could very well see her trying to get “in” with the campaign since late August/early September is when the campaigns swing into high gear.

#sussexes #theories

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gatheringbones · 1 year ago

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[“I can say as an adult who’s since spent the bulk of my career reporting on sexual and reproductive health, gender, violence, and identity that the course of my life might have been different if my ninth grade health class had taught us about more than just a house-of-horrors catalog of the different kinds of STIs. Nothing we learned even vaguely challenged the reality that I and all teenage girls had been socialized to attach our self-worth to pleasing others, to make male figures in our lives happy no matter the cost to us, and to regard our own happiness, certainly our own pleasure, as an afterthought. Hyperfocused demand for better, accurate, and wide-ranging sex ed programs in public schools is, inevitably, an oversimplified solution that ignores how not all sex ed is good or even accurate. Rather, bad sex ed and puritanical policing are passed between generations—and who is going to intervene to teach sex ed teachers to teach better sex ed?

The consequences of bad sex ed impact the trajectory of a young person’s life. Shortly after being forced into a sexual encounter at sixteen that I would come to understand in my adult life as a sexual assault, I continued to partake in—on my end—deeply unenthusiastic sexual relationships. As if the discomforts and general awfulness of bad sex weren’t punitive enough, eventually, inevitably, the situation spiraled out of my control. I can still vividly remember being belittled by drugstore clerks on multiple occasions, first when I pooled together savings from my after-school job to buy emergency contraception locked away behind counters, and later when I purchased a pregnancy test. A doctor berated me after I disclosed that I had been having unprotected sex, asking if I were purposefully trying to become pregnant and “throw my life away,” and prompting me to conceal pretty important truths from medical professionals for years out of fear of being similarly shamed.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023

#kylie cheung #cw abuse #cw rape #cw assault #currently reading

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brokehorrorfan · 2 months ago

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Night of the Blood Beast and Attack of the Giant Leeches will be released together on Blu-ray and DVD on November 12 via Film Masters. Both monster movies are produced by Roger Corman.

Night of the Blood Beast is a 1958 sci-fi/horror film directed by Bernard L. Kowalski (Sssssss) and written by Martin Varno. Michael Emmet, Angela Greene, John Baer, and Ed Nelson star.

Attack of the Giant Leeches is a 1959 sci-fi/horror film directed by Bernard L. Kowalski (Sssssss) and written by Leo Gordon (The Wasp Woman). Ken Clark, Yvette Vickers, Jan Shepard, and Bruno VeSota star.

Night of the Blood Beast has been newly scanned in 4K from original 35mm archival elements. Attack of the Giant Leeches has been newly restored in high definition.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes of both films are included. Read on for a full list of special features.

Special features:

Night of the Blood Beast 4:3 presentation

Night of the Blood Beast audio commentary by Tom Weaver and The Weaver Players

Night of the Blood Beast 8mm silent digest version

Attack of the Giant Leeches audio commentary by Tom Weaver and The Weaver Players

Born From T.V: Bernard Kowalski as a Director

Mystery Science Theater 3000 - Night of the Blood Beast

Mystery Science Theater 3000 - Attack of the Giant Leeches

Yvette Vickers still gallery

Re-cut trailer for both films using restored elements

Publicity slideshow for both films

Night of the Blood Beast restoration comparison

Booklet with essays by Tom Weaver

In Night of the Blood Beast, astronaut John Corcoran (Michael Emmet) dies upon returning to Earth following a space mission, but mysteriously comes back to life! As the scientists at a remote space research station investigate Corcoran's revival, they discover that a parasitic, alien lifeform is utilizing his body as a host to incubate its offspring. In Attack of the Giant Leeches, a backwoods game warden (Ken Clark Ken Clark) discovers that massive, bloodsucking monsters are responsible for disappearances and deaths in a local swamp, but the local police don't believe them.

Pre-order Night of the Blood Beast / Attack of the Giant Leeches.

#night of the blood beast #attack of the giant leeches #roger corman #mst3k #mystery science theater 3000 #film masters #dvd #gift #horror #50s horror #1950s horror #sci fi horror #creature feature #monster movies #yvette vickers

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saturrnss · 2 years ago

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Waves 🌊 (18+)

namor x brown/darkskin!black!reader

angst with happy ending

warnings: ANGST, insecurities, self hate, mentions of colorism, self-degradation (non-sexual), ground level self esteem, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, mentions to suicide, mentions of self harm, slight mentions of ed, mention of sex, corny writing

A/N: over the years I've started to hate myself more and more, wondering why don't I look like all the pretty white girls I see, the hate has turned into suicidal thoughts (not saying it's the only reason but still). I'm trying to get over it now but once in a while they appear again, and i'm trying to make myself feel better so here this is. (if you're struggling like me, please if you can get therapy or if you don't have anyone, talk to me in my dms :) (let's just pretend that there's wifi at the bottom of the ocean and i'm ass at writing so don't expect much outta me)

You hate yourself, like not a dislike you HATE yourself. Your hair, your face, your legs, your skin, everything about yourself. every time you show your face in public you feel like a burden, a mistake, making everyone's life a little bit harder. You once cut your hair off in a rage because maybe, just maybe, it would grow out straight.

(Your mother wasn’t too pleased with that)

ever since you were a child you weren't allowed to wear certain things because "only lightskins could wear that" and “they wouldn’t even see it on you” your mother used to tell you, when you were a teenager every boy rated you a 2/10, constant bullying or asked you out as a joke.

It’s not like your parents cared either, they were either too worried about themselves or busy yelling at you so they were never there for you

You started weight watching, straightened your hair, and started internalizing self hatred. It got so bad to a point where your hair was absolutely fried and it felt like you had to self harm every single day or you would kill yourself

ever since you were a child every spring and summer- not missing a day, you suck out to go to this beach near your house late at night

You felt like yourself there, free from the expectations of society-not one entity was near you except the ocean, the ocean never judged you, it always accepted you

for the entire time you just layed flat out on the sand, looking at the moon slowly disappear as it grew closer to morning- hearing the whoosh of the water next to you

subconsciously hoping-- even praying that one day, whatever god or goddess of the ocean maybe out there, would just let the waves take you out to sea, let your body be at one with the ocean for all eternity.

One night, in spring transitioning into summer, you were doing your daily routine, until you heard something unfamiliar in the ocean. You got up and saw something strange get out of the ocean. You quickly run and hide yourself (luckily your far enough from them that they didn't notice you) You see a man and a woman appear but one of them was- Blue?

she was wearing a weird contraption on her face that had some sort of-- liquid, on her face? you look and try to listen in on their conversation but they're too far away to hear, only mumbles. a couple minutes later you accidentally lay on piece of glass

“Ow fuck!”

The strange man and woman turn around to the noise

You quickly cover yourself with whatever is near you and try your absolute best to stay quiet.

"Ba'ax ka biin le je'elo? (what was that?)" the blue woman says as they both get up and stalk towards where you are. you hear flapping and something rising up into the air. you try to move your head to take a peak.

you get an eye up and to your surprise, you see the man up in the air, with wings on his feet. In a mix of shock and slight horror and fear that that could be possible, you were frozen. the man lowers himself back onto the ground ''Falsa alarma (false alarm)''

They walk away and submerge back into the ocean and that's when you get up and run as fast as you can back to your house. you didn't go back there for 2 days after that.

A year or 2 later you were driving home from a therapy session, you're life and mental state were still shit (as usual) but you were sadder than usual, no-one cared about you, you barley had any friends and you went no contact with your family. you were alone, no-one had your back and no-one wanted to. so you finally decided to do it, to end it all.

you drive to the place where you always went to, taking in everything and everywhere before your end. you finally get to the beach, you get out of your car and sit down to meditate, coming to terms with the fact that the world moved fast, and you moved slow.

finally coming to peace with your decision, you take off your shoes and sweater, and finally walk into the ocean with your eyes closed.

you swim deeper from the surface so you won't easily get out. You could hold your breath for 2 minutes so it wasn't really that hard, but then you started to struggle, you stop yourself from swimming up, reassuring yourself that it's the right decision.

After another minute of struggle your body finally gave up and passed out. You woke up a day later in a room, you were scared to open your eyes because maybe you were in hell?? What if there wasn't anything at all?!?

You were having a mini panic session until your heard footsteps, who opened your eyes to see who was there and it was the flying man you saw on the beach.

An overwhelming feeling of relief flew over you, this wasn't the afterlife you expected but at least there was something after. "Hi" he says with a soft smile on his face. "Where am I?" You say as you sit up.

“The more important question is are you ok” he comes over and puts the back of his hand on your forehead. “You threw up on yourself when we were saving you so they put you in new clothes.” You looked down on yourself and noticed the beautiful gown they put on you.

“This might be weird question but is the is heaven?” He softly chucked, “I appreciate the compliment but your still on earth” he gives you a bowl of water

you look up at him to thank him only to get locked in his gaze, his eyes were like a forever forest you couldn’t get out of, you noticed everything about him, and everything about him to you was perfect.

You were so sucked in that you didn’t even notice that he was lost in your eyes too. He forced himself to snap out of it cause he was kind of in denial.

Okay maybe he took a bias to you when he saw unconscious and that’s why he sent everyone away but there’s absolutely no way he would fall In love with a surface dweller, after 200 years??? No.

“So, how did you end up in the ocean?” He asks, trying to detract from the last moment “someone try to murder you or was it an accident?” “Um..” you start to tell him the truth, but you decide against it. “A freak accident….I-i don’t really remember much”

It was really weird at first, not being able to go outside because you'll drown, but overtime you two quickly grew closer, you told him things about the surface world -he didn’t really like the surface world much but he didn’t say-

You got your phone repaired and somehow still got wi fi so you could show him all your favorite songs and dance with him to it, showed him your favorite memes too (he really didn’t get the memes or what made them funny but he saw you laughing so he laughed too)

late at night while you were about to go to sleep, he told you the stories his mom told him, band about once he came across this white man with a vibranium shield who was frozen, he poked it with his spear but just left it alone because he didn’t want to let a white man into talokan

You met that blue lady with the weird mask, her names actually namora and she’s his cousin. You were both kind of shy and awkward around each other but sooner or later you both became good friends

You started to open up to ku, about everything that happened in your past, your self harming, and then finally the real reason he found you. That was the first time you ever saw him shed a tear that day, then everyday since then he made time out for you and listened to what you had to say

Comforting you and consoling you, you started to get better little by little

You were slowly but surely falling in love with him but you didn’t say anything about it because you didn’t want to make it uncomfortable between the two of you

One night, when he finally took you back to the surface world for the first Time in a long time, your car was no where to be seen but you didn’t care, all you cared about was ku and you were just glad that he was here.

You were both sitting on the sand, looking at the sky, he put your hand on top of yours and you turned you head yo smile at him, that’s when he finally kissed you. It felt like time had stoped and the only thing moving was the both of you, his lips felt like a cloud

the fact that he reciprocated the feelings you had for him made you ecstatic— but most importantly It was the first time you felt like someone was actually, there for you

Like someone had actually loved you, for you, didn’t care what you looked like

When your lips separated you quickly got back into it, leading to a make-out session and then it eventually but inevitably leading to sex and trust and believe that it was the most wonderful sexual encounter you’ve ever had.

you still self harmed, out of habit mostly- on different parts of the leg so no one would notice, especially k’uk’ulkan, you didn't wanna lose him and you thought if he found out about this he would leave you and kick you out of talokan for sure, or even worse. he occasionally asked questions about why you wear long sleeves even though it could be burning up so you stopped for a while. He was the love of your life and everything seemed to be going perfect for you

Until.

an hour ago- you felt like you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone, and all of a sudden all those negative feelings you had all in your childhood and teenage years just hit you like a tornado.

In reality it wasn’t that big of a deal to everyone else but to your inner child, it was

After having a 10 minute long panic attack You made the impulsive decision to end it all. "everyone would be okay if you were gone, no one would care" "you should have killed yourself 3 years ago" your mind told you.

you took the sharpest object you could find and went to your room, "you can do it" "do one good thing for once" you told yourself, jumping and doing any and everything you can to hype yourself up, and you finally do it. you slit your wrist. You immediately regret it, trying to find everything you can to stop the blood but your losing quickly.

you fall down on the floor pretty hard. clinging onto your last breaths before you go you hear something. "Y/N?!?" It was ku. you finally pass out

you slowly open your eyes to see a blue woman standing over you checking your temperature. "Táan despiertos! (they're awake!)" she tells namor as she walks away to get something. Ku quickly goes over to you and kisses you all over.

"What happened?!? Are you ok?!” He says. “I’m fine” you say trying to smile so he doesn’t question you. “I was just trying to cut some food” you don’t make eye contact with him and you look sad

He doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Y/n the last you said something like this was accidental you ended up trying to kill yourself”

You just stayed silent, looking at the ground getting teary eyed. “You should have just told you weren’t happy here!” he says with a slight shake in his voice. “Did I do anything wrong?!”

You say nothing.

“Y/n look at me” he says but you still don’t fearing the worst if you do. “Look. At. Me.” He says with a stern voice, you finally look up at him.

“Do you hate me?” You say with tears streaming down your face. “Hate you? In what way would I hate you? Why would I hate you?” He gets closer to you. “It’s because…” you take a deep breath “all my life, everyone’s always hated me, in one way or another, I’ve never mattered to anyone, I was just the nuisance, the mistake, It feels like I’m just a monster, one of the universes failed experiments.”

“Nobody would care if I was gone ku, not even you.” You just sit in silence for a while, him gathering himself and you, continuing to hang your head in shame. He then cups your face and looks deep into your eyes. “Y/n I have loved you ever since I layed my eyes on you. laugh, smile, hair, personality, everything about you. You are the most beautiful person I have ever layed. The people of talokan love you, I love you” he puts his forehead on yours “and if I could burn the surface world twice for me to prove that to you, I would.”

You then realized that this man really loves you, and you loved him back. The woman came back into the room, walking in on you and him. “Ka wu'uyik in ajawo'! Chéen - (I’m sorry my king! I just-)”

“Ma' a preocupes in waal (don’t worry my child)" he kisses you and steps out of the room to attend to his other duties.

Life from then on went on pretty swell, you restarted therapy, ku ordered attuma to take you once every week, (you lended him your clothes to him so he could disguise himself) you learned a little bit of the language, he’s very overprotective of you because he doesn’t want to lose you

At night, he kisses every little scar on your body, you stopped self harming, learned to pick up different hobbies instead of hurting yourself to relive stress, to not rely on anyone for your happiness and to avoid toxic behaviors. Your life is actually going good for once

You were happy.

You finally felt something again.

Ok I’m done, back to fun stuff now

wattpad: saturnshaze

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venus-haze · 2 years ago

Text

Enjoy the Silence (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: Art is tragedy, and your role in Vincent’s work is no exception. Still, you wonder what about you particularly inspired him, and if there’s something you can use to your advantage to escape your unknowable yet seemingly omnipresent captor. You don’t know how his work on living subjects started, and as the days go by, you’re not sure you’ll survive to ever see it end.

Note: Has the “being Vincent’s muse” thing been done to hell? Yes. Do I care? No. The reader is a woman in this but no other descriptors are used. Vincent almost exclusively signs, which is indicated by quotes and italics. Vincent is a perv but tells himself it’s in the name of art. There’s a little bit of Bo x Reader if you squint because I can’t help myself. I’ve been listening to Depeche Mode’s 1990 masterpiece Violator a lot recently, which is where the title comes from. I hope I did Vincent justice. If not, I’m always open to feedback! Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Death, murder, kidnapping, prolonged captivity. Psychological and emotional manipulation. Religious references. Stockholm syndrome. Voyeurism. Toxic artist-muse relationship. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion including oral (m receiving), waxplay. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Paris has over 200 miles of deep catacombs, centuries of silent death sprawling beneath the city of love. Ambrose certainly wasn’t Paris, far from it, but it was where you pretended to be as you sat on the musty mattress and watched Vincent work. You could recall reading about a section of the catacombs closed off to the public due to the fragile, ancient bones that were laid to rest there.

Surely the subterranean, waxen labyrinth of Ambrose must have its own Church of the Innocent, a section to honor the town’s first victims. After all, with the dozens of candles that burned throughout the workshop, if you let your eyes go out of focus for long enough, it almost felt as though you were in a cathedral. With Vincent’s preferred opera music playing softly in your peripheral, the experience was comfortingly spiritual.

While your first few weeks of being in Vincent’s studio, as you’d personally come to refer to it, were nothing short of a nightmare, you had accepted your fate and found that if you didn’t struggle, didn’t fight, Vincent would leave you alone while he worked. There was a day early on where you were convinced he’d kill you like he’d killed your friends. You watched him do it to each of them, one by one–sedated, then killed, and preserved in wax. Your best friend, Gina, was in particularly rough shape when her limp body was brought in by Bo, who shot you a shit-eating grin when he saw the look of horror on your face at Gina’s condition.

Something in you broke at seeing your best friend in such a state, and for a few hours, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but sob uncontrollably, to Vincent’s dismay. Your cries echoed as he tried to work, and you could see his shoulders tense up when you wailed out a plea for him to kill you. He set down his tools, and just when you thought he had enough, that he was going to go ahead and do it, he pressed his hand to the side of your face, caressing your cheek so gently it shocked you into silence. He brought his pointer finger to the lips of his mask, and it was then you knew he wouldn’t kill you, no matter how much you begged.

As much as you wanted to hate Vincent, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel more than a vague dislike for the man, not when it was much easier to hate Bo. Since you were Vincent’s, you were off-limits to his volatile twin, much to the man’s frustration. You never pushed your luck with Bo. He was too obvious and impulsive, wanting to see you snap so he had an excuse to pull whatever sick shit he did on the women he kept in his dungeon beneath the gas station to you. He left the disturbing photos around the kitchen on purpose, you knew as much when you saw a particularly grotesque one of Gina and threw up in the kitchen sink. Bo had the audacity to saunter in and ask you what was wrong, glee in his eyes as he took in your disgusted expression.

Still, something about Bo intrigued you, but not nearly enough to go poking around. Vincent didn’t like you spending much time with his twin anyway, seeming to want to keep your interactions with him at a minimum. You certainly weren’t complaining, although things in the studio could get boring when Vincent became engrossed in his work, though there were dozens of books on art and anatomy stacked on tables and shelves, some old and waterlogged, others crusted with wax. For your own sake, you stuck with the art books while Vincent paid you little mind unless you spoke up. Otherwise, Jonesy would be at your side or disappear on her own. It was almost comical how the dog had more freedom than you did.

It helped that you knew some basic signs, as he preferred communicating that way than writing everything to you. In the few weeks you’d been there, you’d managed to pick up on more signs that he used, some that were clearly of his own invention. He never had long conversations with you, and you knew better than to insult a man who could make your life even worse and would take pleasure in doing so. Though you were uncertain of your own future, you at least wanted to make an effort to escape so your friends, especially Gina, didn’t die in vain.

Days seemed to pass at an achingly slow pace when there were no windows to see out of, and you jumped at the opportunity to do some minor chores around the house when Vincent requested it. While you did some minor cleaning and most of the cooking, Vincent was insistent on doing the laundry. You were happy to leave the task to him, not even wanting to figure out how to get the wax out of the various sweaters he wore. The laundry room could hardly be considered such, more of a closet with space for the washer, dryer, and one person standing inside. It seemed like one of the appliances had issues, because whenever you walked past the small room when Vincent did laundry, you’d overhear him groaning. You figured you weren’t handy enough to offer him help, anyway.

For all of the time you spent in Vincent’s basement studio, you rarely saw Bo down there. You were making lunch, using half a loaf of bread to make sandwiches for you, Vincent, and Bo when the man only commented for you to not use too much mustard on his when he sped past you and downstairs.

You set down the spoon you’d been using to spread the condiments—Bo had hidden the knives when Vincent first granted you access to the kitchen—and creeped over to the top of the stairs. Chewing your bottom lip, you strained to hear what Bo was telling Vincent. It sounded mostly mundane, details about how the town was running and some of the wax figures that needed repairs. You shuddered to think what that involved.

Just as you were going to backtrack and finish making lunch, the conversation shifted to you. Of course, Bo had nothing to say but complain about your presence in the house, as if you had decided of your own volition to move in and inconvenience them. Your eye roll quickly turned into shock when you heard how much further he was taking things.

“You’re tellin’ me you’ve had this bitch for weeks and you ain’t fucked her yet?”

Silence.

“Then what’s the hold up?”

Silence.

“Your muse? You’re keepin’ around another mouth to feed for some art bullshit?”

You gasped upon hearing a crash.

“Jesus. Fine. It’s your fuckin’ funeral.”

You resumed making the sandwiches, considering the implications of what you’d just heard. The relationship between artist and muse was always volatile and dangerously intimate. Human nature being what it was, either party would inevitably end up heartbroken or gone mad. What artist wouldn’t give everything for a muse who could never leave, never have dreams of their own, never be with someone else?

From the art books you’d read in Vincent’s studio to pass the time while he worked, you could think of a few, Claudel and Rodin, Miller and Ray, Marr and Picasso—none of which ended on what you’d consider good terms. There was an inherent tragedy to art, yours just looked different. Though, you had no doubt the artist-muse relationship you had with Vincent would end any less than violently.

Perhaps you could use it to your advantage, manipulate the relationship to escape Ambrose. Vincent immersed himself in his art, denying himself companionship in favor of it until recently. Something must have shifted emotionally or psychologically for him to seek out a muse in you of all people. Loneliness could turn into desperation with the right push.

There was no way for you to know what Vincent looked like beneath his mask. Though you knew he and Bo were twins, conjoined by the head at birth until their father performed the surgery that separated them, there were no maskless photos of him anywhere to be found. For a child prodigy who was clearly his mother’s favorite, there was still a clear sense of shame regarding his appearance. While Vincent didn’t indicate that he held on to any of the religious beliefs he was brought up with, the dogma of suffering as holy, pain as good and righteous, could cast a long shadow over a person’s psyche long after they leave the faith.

You ignored Bo when he walked upstairs, doing your best to disguise your knowledge of the conversation he’d just had with his brother. Wordlessly, you slid a plate across the counter to him. He grabbed one of the two sandwiches that sat on it, taking a bite and apparently finding it to his satisfaction.

“Least you’re good for somethin’,” he said, his mouth full.

To your relief, he brought his food into the living room, turning on the TV. Carefully, you grabbed both your and Vincent’s plates, praying none of the sandwiches fell off the plates as you walked down stairs, easier said than done when Jonesy jumped up on you as soon as she smelled the food. She didn’t listen when you pleaded for her to get down, but Vincent signed such to her, and the dog made a displeased whine but relented.

“I made lunch,” you said, setting Vincent’s plate down on the nearest clear surface. “I’m not sure if you’re hungry.”

He was silent, unmoving for a moment before he nodded his head in thanks. You knew he wouldn’t eat in front of you, reluctant to take his mask off unless entirely necessary. Though you wouldn’t pry, you were genuinely curious as to what he looked like beneath the mask. Was it really that bad?

“Well, let me know when you’re done so I can get your plate and wash up,” you said, walking over to one of the crowded worktables, where you had no view on Vincent.

You weren’t alone for long, Jonesy right on your trail and staring at you as you began to eat. It was your own doing, you’d gotten into the habit of feeding her from your plate to win her favor not long after Vincent abducted you. It didn’t do anything to help your case, but at least she liked you. Though you tried to eat slowly, you ended up finishing your lunch in a few minutes, giving Jonesy some of the leftover crust. She left your side not long after that.

A chair scraped across the floor, and you heard Vincent’s familiar steps. He didn’t acknowledge you when you called out for him and asked if he was finished eating, his footsteps becoming increasingly distant. When you couldn’t hear him walking anymore, you got up to collect his plate.

He ate most of what you’d made, but his sketchbook next to it caught your attention. Despite being the subject of what you assumed was most of the drawings in it, he never let you actually look inside and see what he’d drawn. Anytime you’d try to sneak a glance at it, he’d pull it away, guarding it almost jealously.

There it was, out in the open. He must have meant to return quickly from wherever he walked off to if he left it lying around like that. Sure, it was his, and you shouldn’t have been violating his privacy, but you justified it as he did plenty of sketches of you in the shower, anyway. It’d make you even, about time you finally got to see what you assumed were strictly artistic nudes. Still, you weren’t sure when you’d get another opportunity to look inside. You glanced behind your shoulder before grabbing it.

When you flipped open the sketchbook, you were in awe at the detail that went into the drawings. The first few pages were of different people, but as the pages went on, all you saw was yourself—in various poses, states of undress, and pleasure. Your eyes widened as you came across the first of dozens of erotic drawings Vincent had done. It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, all things considered.

The first time you had showered in the Sinclair house was the most oddly intimate experience you ever had. You weren’t allowed in most parts of the house alone for a while, and that hadn’t changed much over time. When you were first brought to Vincent’s studio, you desperately wanted time to yourself, to be alone instead of spending every waking moment with your captor. A few days after you had reluctantly come to terms with your situation, you requested a shower. You were relieved when he acquiesced with a hesitant nod. To your bewilderment, however, he followed you into the bathroom. Your confusion grew as you noticed the pencil and sketchbook in his hand as he sat on the closed toilet lid, motioning for you to undress and go ahead with your shower.

Humiliation had rushed through you when you attempted to pull the shower curtain closed, and instead he held it in place. You tried to give yourself some form of unrealistic modesty, maneuvering your hands to cover yourself as best as you could while thoroughly cleaning your body for the first time in a week. Your heart had been pounding as you lathered shampoo in an attempt to get the dried blood out of your hair. Your exposure was unavoidable, and you tried not to look in his direction.

Vincent was always quiet, save for the few grunts and groans you’d heard him make in his studio. You could only hear the faint sound of pencil on paper over the rush of water hitting grimy tile.

Of course, as soon as you had turned the water off, his head shot up from his sketchbook, and your eyes met his, at least, what you figured were his eyes through the mask. You’d lowered your gaze, sheepishly asking him to hand you a towel.

He offered you his hand as you stepped out of the shower after drying yourself off, and your skin felt especially warm at the contact in the cold bathroom. You noticed pajamas set on the counter, not yours, but they looked about your size, at least. For a brief moment, you had wondered about the clothing’s previous owner.

When you’d reached out to grab the clothes, he placed his hand over them, and you looked at him in confusion until he began dressing you. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed your bare body, grazing up your thighs as he pulled a pair of panties up your legs.

He always dressed you, but you hadn’t realized he was using the opportunity to study your body more closely, not just for art’s sake, but for his own gratification. It was perverse, but what could you expect in such a place, a monument to death and destruction disguised as creation. The sculptures weren’t his, he stole them, the bodies of other people that he manipulated to his vision. He was doing the same to you.

Your stomach churned, yet you flipped one more page and were greeted with a drawing of you–and Vincent. Your figure was nude, as usual, while his form was draped in a cloth. His body was leaned against yours as you held him against your bare torso, your somber eyes raised to the smoky sky he’d drawn above you. He only drew his profile, one side of his face hidden in the softness of your breast. Even then, he didn’t seem to portray himself with any specific features besides his long, dark hair. Though you recognized the painting he was invoking in his recreation, the name escaped you as you stared at the haunting drawing, a warped version of the original’s spirituality.

Before you could turn the page, the sketchbook was ripped from your hands and slammed onto the table. You took a step back, trying to create some distance between you and Vincent. You didn’t have to see his face to know he wasn’t pleased with your snooping. An explanation escaped you as you opened and closed your mouth, hoping he wouldn’t do anything rash.

“Why am I your muse?” you asked.

To your surprise, he hesitated before signing. “You were there.”

“What do you mean? Where was I?”

“There.”

You opened your mouth to inquire further, but the horrifying truth dawned on you. There wasn’t anything special about you, nothing in particular that stood out when he first saw you. Vincent wanted a muse, and you just happened to be the member of your group within his reach, in the right place at the right time for him to try out, see if you were a good fit. You were expendable, a medium with which he could create to his desire, to his vision, just like everyone else. Your legs seemed to give out on you as your brain fogged with the realization that it was pointless—all of the speculation and sleepless nights trying to make sense of your situation and get an upper-hand.

Before you could hit the ground, Vincent held you up, bringing you over to the bed. You sat on the edge of the mattress, and he looked down, head tilted as if he weren’t sure how to regard you. You dug your nails into your palms, releasing before you could break skin, though you desperately wanted to. He ruined your life, and there was no rhyme or reason to it. You didn’t even know what he looked like.

“Let me see you,” you begged. “Please, let me see you.”

Instead of gracing you with a response, he brushed his thumb against your pleading lips and gently pushed his finger into your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you began to suck on his thumb, moreso when you heard him elicit a deep groan exactly like the one you'd overheard in the laundry room. You couldn’t believe you’d been so fucking stupid before—appliance troubles, he was getting off to your dirty laundry. As if his violating you from afar made him any better than his brother, who was unabashed about his violating your best friend. You were no better off than Gina had been.

Gina. God, what would she be thinking if she saw you just taking it. She was always a fighter, standing up for you on more than one occasion. Even Bo had commented on it when he was taunting you. Yet you couldn't even fulfill the promise you had made to yourself to escape and expose what was going on in Ambrose so her death wasn’t in vain.

You cried harder, drool pooling in the corners of your lips as Vincent pushed his thumb further into your mouth. Tears clouded your vision as you tried looking at him, towering above you. It wasn’t fair. Your body had been exposed to him, and you had no idea what he looked like.

He groaned again, his long hair falling into his face. As he kept pumping his finger in your mouth, you were practically eye-level with the tent in his pants. His free hand grabbed his crotch, and you whimpered, causing his hips to jerk.

When he pulled his thumb out of your mouth, you were dizzy, letting out a shaky breath that turned into sobs again. You half expected him to unzip his pants and shove his hard cock in your mouth. Instead, he looked down at you with a blown out eye, panting at the sight of you.

“Let me see you,” you croaked.

He turned away, disappearing into the labyrinth beneath the town, leaving you, covered in spit and tears, on your own. You let out a hopeless wail that echoed pathetically back.

Taking a few minutes to pull yourself together, you didn’t want to get up from where you were sitting on the mattress, preferring to curl up in a ball and cry until you fell asleep. He owned you, that much was evident. Even if you could use his physical attraction to you to get some kind of freedom, he was stronger than you, with no issue using your body as an object for his personal and artistic gratification.

Though you felt numb and empty, you managed to push yourself onto your feet, slowly making your way upstairs into the kitchen. You didn’t want to go to the bathroom and see your appearance, opting instead to wash your face at the kitchen sink. The cold water didn’t make you feel any better as you splashed it on your face, drops falling down your neck and into your shirt.

When you dried your face off with a paper towel, you sniffled as you tried not to cry again. Hearing the TV volume turn down from the living room didn’t make you feel any better, knowing Bo was on his way into the kitchen with some comment to make you feel even worse.

“You ain’t got a scratch on ya, and you’re cryin’ about somethin’,” Bo said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“Can you please just save it?” you mumbled.

He rolled his eyes as he cracked open the can. “Who shoved a stick up your ass? And don’t say my brother, ‘cause Vincent ain’t got the balls to fuck you like he should’ve done already.”

“And you would’ve?”

He grinned, stalking toward you until his face was dangerously close to yours. “I thought I already gave you an idea of what I did to your little friend. What makes you think I would’ve shown you any less hospitality?”

You studied Bo’s features in your proximity to him, wondering if Vincent wore that same, sick grin beneath his mask when he had his thumb in your mouth just a few minutes earlier. He leaned against the counter, his eyes fixed on you.

“You ain’t the least bit curious? We’re twins, after all,” Bo whispered.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d moved in closer, close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your swollen lips.

“I won’t tell if you don’t, darlin’.”

Shit. You remembered why you and your friends were so quick to trust him in the first place, all smiles and giggles as he put you at ease with his charm that he could turn on and off at will. Just a friendly, small town mechanic looking to help a group of friends down on their luck.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Well, whattya got to lose?”

You didn’t move as you glanced at his mouth. He could make you do it. It’d take no effort at all for him to force you into a kiss, but that’d take the fun out of this whole thing for him. You had to make a move for him to win the game.

He had a point. It wasn’t like you had much to lose, giving up on your life not long after you got into town. In the split second before you decided whether or not to give in, a loud bang made you jump back.

Vincent stood on the other side of the kitchen, his fists clenched as he stared at you and Bo. Your heart crashed back down to earth, heavy in your stomach as you looked between the brothers. A suffocating silence filled the room, until Bo stood up from the counter he was leaning against, taking a few steps forward so he was almost between you and Vincent.

“C’mon, Vin, don’t be like that,” Bo said in a good-natured tone that could only make things worse. “I’m just keepin’ your muse company, ain’t that right, doll?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond, as Vincent quickly closed the distance between you. He grabbed you by the arm, pulling you away from Bo and toward the basement. For as much as you’d wanted to see his face before, in that instance you were glad you couldn’t, if his unforgiving grip on your arm was any indication of his anger. You could see his eye through his mask, though, a stormy blue as he narrowed his gaze at his brother, still smug as he took a swig of his beer.

The faint sound of the TV in the living room was the only thing breaking the tense silence, though you wished it were anything but the stupid Zoobooks commercial playing–at a time like this? Would the last thing you ever hear before Vincent turns you to wax be fucking Zoobooks?

He tightened his grip on your arm, practically dragging you downstairs and back to his studio. Your lip trembled as you saw the table where Vincent prepared his subjects to be preserved. He pulled you past it, though, down the corridor he’d disappeared to earlier.

He sat you down in a wooden chair next to his work station where he, thankfully, was working on a non-human wax sculpture, a statue of a saint from the church, though you’d never been inside the building yourself. Your gaze was fixed on his hands as they flexed in and out of fists balled at his side. Finally, he lifted his hands to sign, “Stay away from him.”

“He approached me.”

He scoffed, and you resisted the urge to argue further. Instead, he sat down and went back to sculpting, you felt numb, even as Jonesy nudged your hand with her wet nose. There was no way to know what Vincent was thinking, no facial cues or ticks for you to pick up on. His mask made him cold and unknowable, which frightened you more than anything Bo could do.

The next few days, you were on edge, careful around Vincent and making a conscious effort to avoid his twin. Between the two of them, you knew escaping was a long shot. It was easier to abandon hope, and your best friend’s memory with it, than you expected. Besides, being Vincent’s muse wouldn’t be anything like being Bo’s—whatever the fuck you could call that.

Though Vincent was more open about his art with you, even showing you how to make small wax sculptures or your own, he would tense up every time he so much as heard his twin. When you’d go upstairs to prepare food, Vincent now accompanied you, and the elaborate dish you were hoping to make turned into a hastily thrown-together mess when Bo walked in from his day at the gas station. Vincent spirited you away not long after, and you didn’t exactly buy that he suddenly had inspiration for a drawing.

Still, you acquiesced, hesitant when he elaborated that his artistic vision involved you posing nude. It was the first time you did so outside of the typical shower setting. Though he’d seen so much of you already, you were embarrassed when you rid yourself of your clothes, especially when he walked over, placing his hands on your bare limbs to put you in an uncomfortable pose.

Despite the eternal furnaces that seemed to be running in the basement to keep the wax melted, you were freezing in your nakedness, unable to stop yourself from shivering in addition to the way your muscles strained at how he had you posed.

He slammed his pencil down on the page as he angrily signed, “Stay still.”

“I can’t,” you whined.

Ripping the page out of the sketchbook and throwing the crumpled ball on the ground, he stormed over to you. Though you braced yourself for a blow, you found him repositioning you in a different pose, one that wasn’t as hard on your limbs, but nonetheless exposed and vulnerable.

He took a few steps back, shaking his head at your new pose. Looking around the room, he seemed to find the missing thing that would bring his vision to life. There were dozens of candles burning in the studio, and he picked up a white one, walking over to you.

Your lips betrayed you, a moan escaping them as he poured the hot wax over your bare breasts. He froze, staring down at the milky-colored liquid as it hardened on your soft skin. A switch flipped in him, and he tipped the candle again. This time, you whimpered at the sensation, your skin stinging, but this seemed to be enough for him, as he set the candle aside with shaking hands.

“Let me see you,” you pleaded softly.

“No. Stop asking.”

“You’ve seen me, even the parts I don’t like,” you said. “I’m not scary.”

“I am.”

“So what would change?”

He sighed, shooting you a glare through his mask.

“I’m sorry, I’ll—“

To your surprise, he grabbed his mask, lifting it from his face. His eye was squeezed shut, as if he couldn’t bear to see what he assumed would be the disgusted expression that spread across your face at the sight of his own.

The state of his face was shocking, and you’d underestimated the extent of how much it would be scarred and disfigured, but you felt more pity than repulsion. His stillness was what unnerved you, as if he were holding his breath in preparation for your reaction, like you’d scream and call him a monster or a freak, like he was afraid of you.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head.

“That’s good,” you said softly. “Can I–”

He opened his eye to see you reach for him, letting out what sounded like a whimper when your hand make contact with his scarred skin. You caressed his cheek as he’d so often done to you before.

“Is this alright?” you asked, though he’d leaned into your touch.

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice strained and raspy before he signed, “Need you.”

“I’m right here.”

It wasn’t until he pulled you flush against his body that you noticed his erection, pressing hard against your exposed skin. You looked at him, the longing and desperation in his expression was almost romantic. Maybe you could pretend, just for a few seconds, that you were there by choice. Slowly, you leaned in, softly pressing your lips to his, the scarred side of his face an odd sensation against yours, but he quickly took your face in his hands, kissing you harder.

When you pulled away slightly, overwhelmed by the fervor he was kissing you with, his lips followed yours, a gentle chase by a predator starved for your touch. His tongue slipped between your lips when you opened your mouth slightly, though there was a hesitation to his actions, as if he didn’t know what to expect once he got this far. It was sweet, endearing even, this vulnerability from a man who otherwise had so much power over you. Gently guiding him, you couldn’t help but smile a bit as he moaned.

You quickly found it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He finally allowed you to pull away from his lips. His gaze was focused as you tried to catch your breath. Of course, just a kiss wasn’t enough for him. He’d tasted blood, and he wanted more.

He pulled off his sweater, revealing his torso, strong, pale, and littered with dozens of scars all varying in size and color. From the way he looked at you, it was easy to pick up on what he wanted you to do next, and as you pressed feather-light kisses to his bare skin, you wondered if it were the first time he’d ever been intimate with anyone. Sure, he could have had his way with past victims, expertly immobilizing them so he could get his pound of flesh before their transformation into the newest member of the town’s population, but that was cold, distant, uninspired, a cheap substitution for the way your mouth was worshiping his body.

His cock strained against his pants, and he couldn’t take it anymore—the friction, the anticipation, you. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, he pulled his hard cock from under the fabric, the slightest smirk spreading across his face as your eyes widened, hesitant and a bit frightened at the size of him. Pumping himself with his hand, he used his other hand to push you to your knees. Though you tried to hide it, he didn’t miss how you squeezed your thighs together.

The dried, white wax on your breasts from just a few minutes earlier made it look like he’d already cum on your chest, and he moaned at the thought, pulling a little harder on his cock before pressing the leaking head against your lips.

Vincent was not a vocal lover, as you hesitantly referred to him, only offering grunts and groans as you licked his cock just before taking it in your mouth. He was bigger than what you were used to, and you were careful not to choke, easier said than done when the warmth of your mouth, your soft tongue stimulating his hard length, made him buck his hips and you gagged at his cock hitting the back of your throat. You looked up at him, his head thrown back in pleasure, his long, black hair sticking to his skin.

When he looked down at you, making eye contact, you felt like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, a suspicious and almost accusatory expression on his face that almost made you pull away from his cock. He remembered the scene he’d walked in on just a handful of days before, you and Bo so close, your noses practically touching, the gleam in his twin’s eyes like he wanted to eat you alive. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest as he roughly grabbed you by the hair and took control of the pace, no intention of going easy on you. He had to make up for lost time, after all, years of isolation, loneliness, and self-loathing until you came along, ready for the taking and far more compliant than he had expected.

The sight of you, kneeling before him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you took what he gave you, made him almost believe in god again, almost. The soft light of the candles burning throughout the studio reflected off of the sheen of sweat on your skin, you were practically glowing. Perhaps he was letting his emotions get the better of him, his first truly intimate experience with a woman clouding his senses, but he could let himself get lost in it, just this once and every time afterward. You were his muse, that was what you were there for, after all. He wanted you to fear him, reverently, passionately—be not afraid, from the mouths of monstrous looking angels.

You almost sighed in relief when he pulled his cock out of your mouth, throat and jaw aching from the unrelenting attention. He took his cock in his hand, pumping it, wet and slick with precum and saliva, until he climaxed on your breasts. His cum was nearly indistinguishable from the wax that littered your skin, complimenting the faint, raised burns left in the wake of the liquid’s heat when it was first poured onto you. Though you moved to get up, you found yourself being pushed back down again.

“Stay still,” he signed, his hand a bit shaky as he did so.

When you didn’t move, your hands resting above your knees as you tried to catch your breath, he gave you a tired, twisted grin before reaching for his sketchbook and getting to work. Numbness overtook your senses, and you had no idea how much time had passed when Vincent finally put down his pencil to help you onto your feet.

He sat you on the mattress, its softness a relief from the floor you’d been kneeling on for god knows how long. When he made the sign for shower, an inquiry as to whether you wanted one, all you could do was stare at the sketchbook that was still in his hand. Your pleasure, your comfort, wasn’t even an afterthought, while his was a priority. With an exhausted exhale, you allowed him to drape you in a blanket and lead you upstairs.

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