#i was struggling on this i only like the top part

[lanabuckybarnes]

Might have re-watched Captain America: Winter Soldier again 🫣....and it's just something about the way he says "You're my misson." All I know is this gives off HUGE smutty vibes. I love your written so I just knew I had to ask you!

Ohh nonnie the way he growls it as well (panties soaked)

18+ MINORS DNI, DUB/NON CON THEMES AHEAD

His metal hand pressed against your throat, you should’ve passed out ages ago but he wasn’t squeezing enough to hurt. He was keeping you in place.

You don’t know how you ended up on Hydra’s watchlist. You were a regular person, a security expert who woke up at 6am every morning, showered and got ready for the long hours at the office.

Your boss had some new clientele. They were in the market for top-notch security and they’d chosen the company you worked for, and your boss had chosen you to be part of the team. You learned quickly that they were a very secretive group, you only ever met the messengers and even then they blanked every other word you spoke besides a polite hello.

It was one boring day, completely uneventful, the usual in your office. You were working on the can’t security side of the project when your screen went black, then a logo appeared—an octopus? Weird.

“Hey Jim come look at this” you notified your cubicle neighbour who peaked over the barrier. Just as he did mountains of files filtered onto your screen, many of them in Russian it looked like but one thing was for certain. You definitely shouldn’t have seen it.

That night after packing up and heading downstairs you noticed Jim still at the revolving doors.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked, he looked pale, if you were in an old house you were sure you would’ve mistook him for a ghost.

“T-the—“ he cleared his throat before his brown eyes bore into yours. They looked dead, it shook you to your core. “The logo, on your computer…I searched it up and…”

Your jaw dropped to the floor when you digested the content on his phone. Hydra. Your new clients were Hydra and you’d accidentally seen all their files.

—

You jumped from your dreamless sleep at the sound of your landline. Checking your clock lets you know it was well past midnight, who on earth would be calling at this time?

“H-hello?” You rasped, eyes shutting by the second.

The frantic voice spoke your name. It was Jim and by his tone, he was panicking.

“Jim? Jim, are you alright?” You pressed, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“T-they’re here, listen to me whatever you do, do not open your door. Find a weapon and hide…oh god…Do not op—“ BANG!!

You let out a shriek at the sound, Jim’s side turning eerily quiet. Then your door knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Your door was gone before it could be knocked for a third time. Kicked so hard it hit the opposite wall, you screamed, dropping the phone from your ear and falling to the ground like you were made of jelly.

Tears flowed freely down your face as the huge body stalked forth, his arm glistening under the dim light you kept on at all times. A mask sat upon his face obscuring his emotions from you but you were certain he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through.

His heavy boots stopped just in front of your knees, his metal hand grasped at your throat squeezing until your vision spotted, until you garbled pleas up at him. Only then did he pull you up, your toes pointing to reach the floor, you were trying desperately to relieve some of the pressure around your throat.

You should’ve died a long time ago, his brain screamed at him to fulfil his mission, put a bullet in your skull and be done. But the more he looked at you the more he wanted.

The spaghetti straps of your nightgown had slipped down off your shoulders, catching in the crooks of your elbows but not before giving him a delicious tease of your bust.

He wanted more.

He raised his flesh hand, hooking a long thick index finger into the material before ripping it from your body in one fell swoop. You yelled and struggled against his grasp but a harsh squeeze of your trachea had any fight dying quickly.

He let his knuckles trace the swell of your tits, pinching a nipple in between his fingers, smirking darkly under the mask as you squirmed.

You look cute all scared of him; wide-eyed and chest heaving, your tummy sucking in to get away from his hand as it trailed down to your cotton panties.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he felt along your gusset.

“You’re wet”

You shook your head, eyes darting anywhere but him, your thighs squeezing his hand and keeping it pressed firmly against your mound.

He ripped the panties from your body as well, running two fingers through your folds and bringing them up to your face. Absolutely soaked.

“Wet” he spoke matter-of-factly before pushing his hand back down there; fingers plucking your hard little clit effortlessly until you were crying out.

“W-why are you doing this” you moaned, head hitting off the wall with a bang as you sucked in air greedily.

“You’re my mission” he growled back, fingers stretching you out until your brain turned to mush.

He coaxed four orgasms out of you that night. His mask, thrown to the floor so he could kiss you sloppily before leaving.

He returned night after night, Hydra sending him to complete his task but he’d do the same again, play with you, eat you out until you were a writhing mess—all dumb and thinking of nothing but him.

You were his mission. For days, months, years. You were his.

—

I pulled this outta my ass but I hope it was up to your standard nonnie 🤭🤭

Also thank you so much, it’s nice to know some people enjoy reading the poo I write.

Likes, Reblogs and Asks are always appreciated ❤️❤️

#bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky fanfic #marvel #bucky smut #bucky barnes x reader #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter solider x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier #winter soldier smut

[damagedcoda6669]

hiiiii!!!! i was wondering if u could share some of the most common to least common bpd symptoms?….and maybe ones u struggle with??? <:3

ive been thinking i have bpd for awhile,, (since i was 15,i’m almost 18 now) BUT i dont wanna self diagnose bc i don’t wanna offend anyone……is that offensive? to self diagnose? idek <:p

there isnt rlly least 2 most common, bpd is a spectrum and has a wide range of experiences!!! but i will list the diagnostic criteria 4 u, and explain it in a way some1 first learning abt bpd can understand ^w^

u must experience at least 5 of the 9 symptoms from the criteria in order 2 be diagnosed!!!

1: frantic efforts 2 avoid real or imagined abandonment; this does not include suicidal or self mutilating behavior covered in criteria 5.

this means an intense fear of abandonment. if u have bpd, being abandoned by those u love is most likely ur biggest fear. ik its mine!!! xD this can look like a number of things. this can include an avoidant attachment style, pushing ppl away becuz u feel a need 2 abandon them first b4 it happens 2 u. u might do the opposite and cling rlly hard. u might resort 2 manipulation tactics n threats 2 try 2 get them 2 stay even if its not in their best interest (not every1 w bpd does this, and not every1 w bpd doing this is doing it on purpose. ive done this in the past b4 i reflected on my own behavior and realized it was wrong. we r not abusers by default and we dont have bad intentions.) u might beg them 2 stay, promise them things, try 2 change urself 4 them, yell at them 4 wanting 2 leave. its terrifying what the fear might do 2 u.

2: a pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by extremes of idealization and devaluation.

this ones pretty simple, consistently unstable relationships throughout ur life!!! but it might get a lil confusing at "extremes of idealization and devaluation", so ill try 2 explain that using a term from the bpd community, "splitting". splitting is when u switch from one extreme view of a person, object, character, pretty much anything, 2 the opposite. it USUALLY means going from loving some1 2 hating them, but it can mean the opposite (hating 2 loving), and it can apply 2 anything, not just a person. a good example of splitting is when ur fp (favorite person, another term from the bpd community) disagrees with u abt smth, or u see them hanging out with other ppl, u mightve viewed them as perfect b4 and now u feel an intense hatred and can only see them as a bad person. 2 other ppl, experiencing such a drastic change in perception over smth so small is seen as ridiculous, but rlly its entirely valid. its part of the disorder, its okay.

3: markedly and persistently unstable self image or sense of self.

u dont rlly know who u r a lot of the time, u dont have a strong sense of identity, if any at all. u might change styles often, change the way u talk, the jokes u make, ur beliefs, ur interests, ur hobbies. u might find urself basing ur entire personality on those around u. a common experience is that when ur favorite person or favorite ppl leave u, u dont know who u r anymore, becuz ur entire sense of self was mirrored from them. its like being a chameleon, but ur constantly mirroring other ppl, and ur nevr rlly ur own person.

4: impulsivity in at least two areas that r potentially self damaging (the examples listed in the DSM-5 include spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating, but i will provide moar examples!!!); this does not include suicidal or self mutilating behavior covered in criteria 5.

this ones also pretty simple!!! but personally i find that i become moar impulsive while in a bad headspace, or while im having a bpd episode/suicidal outburst. moar impulsive actions may include property damage, physical fights, running away, cutting contact with ppl, getting in contact with ppl who u know r dangerous, etc. those r all i could think of off the top of my head and they may not be the best examples, srry!!! :(

5: recurrent suicidal behaviors, gestures, threats, or self mutilating behavior.

i would like 2 say that self harm doesnt just mean cutting!!! self harm includes burning, hitting, ripping out hair, picking at skin, stabbing, and many moar. personally ive always been a cutter and i started when i was 9 or 10, but i want every1 2 know that all self harm is valid and this is a safe space 2 discuss it. im not gonna make any1 feel ashamed of it <3 also!!! suicidal threats and gestures may come across as manipulative, but that is almost NEVR our intention. we may act out in suicidal ways becuz its the only thing that gets us any sort of attention or care that we desperately need. i dont give a shit abt "ew theyre threatening suicide 4 attention, lets ignore them" becuz attention is a basic human need, and some1 threatening suicide REGARDLESS of their intentions is always a concern. whether its a call 4 help or not, they need help. dont disregard their mental health becuz their suicidal ideation doesnt present in an "acceptable" manner. all suicidal ideation, IS suicidal ideation. whether its passive, 4 attention, active w a plan, its all valid and requires attention and care.

6: affective instability due 2 a marked reactivity of mood (eg, intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely moar than a few days)

intense mood swings!!! u can feel happy one moment, and then switch 2 being depressed or anxious, and then go back 2 "normal" 10 minutes later. sometimes it just happens 4 no reason!!! absolutely fucking sucks

7: chronic feelings of emptiness.

this one is hard 2 explain and can mean varying things 4 different ppl. 4 me, it means i will never be happy in the long term (maybe with medication, but.. rawdogging life? bad idea) nothing gives me any sort of long term joy and i dont feel like i have a purpose. its like theres a hole in my chest that will nevr be filled. nothing will make me complete.

8: inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (eg, frequent displays of temper, constant anger, or recurrent physical fights)

angy

(also not every1 w bpd gets in2 physical fights or r angry at other ppl often, some ppl r moar angry at themselves)

9: transient, stress related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms.

paranoia is a symptom of bpd!!! although its shortlived in nature, and as stated above, stress related. dissociative symptoms can also present in a variety of ways!!! u can present with a fractured sense of self which may actually lead 2 u developing headmates iirc, but with them usually appearing as other versions of urself. or u might just dissociate due 2 stress or ur brain wanting 2 remove traumatic memories, 4 me dissociating feels like the whole world is fuzzy and blurry and i cant form any thoughts or emotions. i have dissociative amnesia and experience memory loss when this happens, which sucks becuz i dissociate at least once everyday. my memories r incredibly spotty and unreliable, its liek my brain is made of swiss cheese!!!

personally, i experience all of the symptoms from the diagnostic criteria, and they all effect my life on a daily basis. but that isnt 2 say that u need all of them in order 2 have bpd, as i said b4, u only need at least 5!!! there r also different types of bpd (not medically, theyre labels created by the bpd community) look in2 it if u resonate with some of the symptoms but not all of them!!! a lot of ppl who suspect they have bpd but dont present in a stereotypical way often relate 2 the term "quiet bpd", i recommend looking in2 it!!!

self diagnosis is entirely valid, and most of the ppl who r offended by it r neurotypical or they dont have the disorders that ppl r self diagnosing with. it stems mostly from ableism towards autistic ppl, specifically autistic ppl who self diagnose becuz they know theyre autistic but dont have the resources/time 2 get a diagnosis from a professional. if u believe ur borderline, and u've done ur research, i believe u. self diagnosis is not actually offensive 2 those who have mental disorders, im pretty sure the bpd community is accepting of self diagnosis!!! and if u cant find a community of ppl who r accepting of ur self diagnosis, just know that i believe u and this is a safe space 4 self diagnosis and ppl w bpd :3

bpd is also incredibly hard 2 get diagnosed with. its one of the most stigmatized disorders and often mental health professionals have a bias against it. sometimes, professional diagnosis is not an option 4 us. i knew i had bpd 4 years b4 i was able 2 get diagnosed. good luck!!!!

#jack.txt #birdie #damagedcoda6669 #bpd #bpd awareness #borderline personality disorder #mental health #bpd safe #tw s3lf harm #tw self h4rm #tw sui ideation #tw self harm #tw sh #tw suicidal ideation

[stephenyoonkeeholdup]

tentative title: hung hyung

Permanent 🔞 Ecstasy

MDNI

gif ©️ me! believe it or not 😭

pairing: Intak (P1H) x male reader (dynamic up to individual interpretation tbh)

author’s notes: I am currently miles away from my comfort zone… I don’t think I've written MxM anything in around 10 years 👀😀. However, I made a vow to myself that I'd write a thing for my Intak-biased bestie whose birthday is this week. On top of that, last week we saw Piwon for the 3rd time, and this title is from Victoria Monét's "On My Mama" which Intak covered so deliciously. 🤭 There is an alluding to pup!Intak that’s been all the rage here recently – if you squint.

content warnings: profanity, semi-public blowjob (reader received)

Your friend has the midas touch, and you swear by that, as you enter into the dressing room backstage per said friend’s invitation. You expected to see all the members shuffling around to get ready for the show. However, you only see Intak rise up from his seat already dressed as the door opens, politely greeting you with that big smile of his.

You were not complaining in the slightest as THE Hwang Intak confirms your name that was given to him by word of mouth. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N! I heard you’ve been a fan since debut…” Intak says after you’ve greeted him back. His appreciative doe eyes stare right into your eager eyes as he thanks you for being so supportive since the beginning of his career.

“Of course, Intak,” you reply, “and you’ve always caught my attention… Your rapping is so good, and the way you move is incredible.” You don’t expect anything when your eyes subconsciously cruise up and down that toned body of his, but you find his eyes doing the same thing in that brief moment of silence after thanking you again.

You definitely don’t expect him to call you cute in such a shy manner before briefly peeking at his phone. As you continue staring at him, taking this moment in, you spy some naturally formed blush hitting his cheeks.

“You good, Intak?” you can’t help but ask him, that blush on his face getting a deeper pink, almost like the magenta on the UTOP1A concert logo.

“I’m… good,” he starts off, “but a bit nervous. Never had a one-on-one time with a fan before… especially a handsome one…”

His confession catches you off guard, the compliment at the end almost leaving you in disbelief. The moment you look down his body again, that disbelief intensifies as you notice a bulge forming in his pants.

Out of curiosity, you ask him, “Well… how did you expect this [interaction] to go?”

After pondering a moment, he begins to answer before trailing off in thought. “Not too sure… T-talking…” Honestly speaking, the moment Intak was informed about this encounter, and your friend showed him a picture they took of you, his mind started racing at a pace he was struggling to grasp. “Can we do something else though? We have time.”

You admired how cautious he was trying to be, eyes surveying his surroundings as he briskly walks over to the door, awaiting your confirmation before turning the lock on it. It was almost as if you both knew what happens after the locking of any door (in this type of setting) because it did not take long before his lips touched yours, and you granted him access to your mouth.

Moans escape the both of you as you trail your hands that were cupping his face down his seemingly chiseled body. Unlike Intak, you were a bit more unashamed with your actions, but tried to be just as cautious with your approach.

“Fuck,” Intak breathes out as you gently grab at his hardened bulge. His hand grips your thigh in response as you come to the realization that you’re just as hard. Intak’s soft lips graze down your neck, stopping at your chest before looking up at you (in part) for permission. You knowingly nod, admiring how he balances his shyness with his natural confidence so well.

Both of his hands rest on your thighs before congregating at the belt buckle atop of your shorts. Now, one would’ve solely unbuckled the object, but this showman here asks if you know about his solo stage.

“Of course!” you exclaim a bit breathlessly. “I… love that song… and what you did with it.” He smiles at the praise you give him for his hard work before he gradually pulls your belt out from your garments completely.

In a move similar to one from that performance, your belt is wrapped around his big hands before it’s discarded to the side. You both can’t help but smirk at the action before he guides you onto the vanity counter, leaning back on your hands as you anticipate Intak’s next moves.

He doesn’t even bother undoing the button of your shorts, he just pulls them down until they’re around your ankles. Mere seconds pass before your boxers receive that same treatment, your hard cock springing up, precum already dripping out of the tip.

He licks his lips, constantly looking up at you for permission. This time, you place a hand of yours on the nape of his neck before nodding at him to proceed. He sticks his tongue out, feeding himself some of your precum as an appetizer before taking you in his mouth.

You can’t help but curse out at him in pleasure, your legs planting themselves over his shoulders as he indulged in the feeling of your dick in his mouth. He moans around you in sheer delight before looking back up at your pleased expression. Your eyes were too closed to see how proud of himself he was becoming at the fact that he was clearly making you feel good.

While bobbing his head up and down your length, he caresses your thighs with varying degrees of roughness, feeling you shake ever-so-slightly beneath him. “Holy fuck, Intak,” you spit out, earning a quizzical moan from the boy, feeling the vibration rather deeply before you continue. “You’re really fucking good…”

Intak kept moaning as he kept sucking, one hand grabbing your nutsack with a bit more intensity than you would’ve been prepared for. What you may have missed was that Intak grabbed his still clothed hard cock at the same time, just barely thrusting into his hand in alternation with his bobbing head.

Both of you seemlessly transition from soft moans to low groans, your dick twitching in Intak’s mouth in a way that eggs him on even further. Once he hollows his throat to receive you to the hilt, you begin to lose it.

“I’m gonna cum, 'T-tak!” you manage to yell in a whispered state. Those same puppy eyes you were met with in the beginning approve of your next moves before they close tightly. He squeezes yours and his balls simultaneously before you both let out the most unabashed sounds, as you feel ropes of your warm semen enter Intak’s warm throat.

An echo of obscenities follows as you come down from your peak. Intak slowly backs away from you with a close-mouthed grunt, waiting until your heavy eyes reopen for him to open his mouth. You couldn’t help but moan at the pool of your release still resting in his mouth before he swallows.

For several reasons, Intak smiles in relief before slowly getting up. “I have to change my underwear,” he admits, chuckling so adorably. He begins to discard of everything on his lower half rather quickly, and that’s when you officially return to reality… To the practically vacant green room in the venue where you initially just came to enjoy a concert of one of your favorite artists.

Moments later, Intak returns clothed, almost running to you, whose pants… and belt… are back on your person (because you know timing is not of the essence in a situation like this). He seems to share a mutual interest in not wanting this moment to end anytime soon, as he manages to steal a couple more kisses from you before hearing the doorknob jiggle.

“Can you come back after the show?” Intak asks before unlocking the door. His gaze never leaves you as he awaits your response. You take it upon yourself to steadily get up from the counter to avoid any speculation before answering.

“If I can walk, sure!” you both laugh before the door opens and the remaining members of P1Harmony enter. You quickly greet them before scurrying out of the room to allow them some pre-show privacy.

This is already the best concert experience of your life, and it hadn’t even begun yet.

#intak smut #p1harmony smut #piwon smut #p1h smut #p1harmony hard hours #piwon x reader #p1harmony x reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader #x reader #male reader #intak #intak x reader #hwang intak #kpop smut #p1harmony x you #p1harmony x male reader #p1harmony #p1h #piwon

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Part 9)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, then into the arms of the Radio Demon himself. The final instalment in the Lookalike series (well, maybe there's room for a little epilogue as a treat)- I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride! 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, Alastor X reader, Vox x reader, Alastor x Vox, threesome reader is in Hell for a reason, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8

Who am I? The question chewed at the edge of Vox’s psyche through his ride back to the tower, and through his day. Yeah, who were you? Who the fuck turned up in Hell looking like a freshly minted Radio Demon? Who were you that Alastor was willing to put his signature red tailcoat on your back? Vox swore to himself as he returned to the covert footage of you. Not for the sex, no. But the audio. Sweet nothings on your lips behind closed doors, your unguarded words intended for Alastor’s ears only.

“Oh? You were an antiquarian?”

“Close. I used to curate a museum.”

Vox grinned to himself. It wasn’t much of a clue to your identity, sure, but he also knew the date of your death pretty much to the day. That narrowed it down a lot. One of Voxtek’s most lucrative activities was keeping track of the dead- through obituaries and missing person reports from the living world. More people than not ended up in Hell, and there was always money to be made tracking down a new arrival. Vox put a search out for museum curators dead or missing in the last month, and, on a hunch, narrowed it to the US.

There were a handful of candidates, but running an eye over the list, there was only one person you could be, realistically speaking. Only one museum that you could have run.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all,” you spoke to yourself under your breath, words buzzing behind your teeth in practiced harmony as you walked, the phrasing coming to you without thinking after years of practice, to help you slide into the transatlantic accent. “To the Louisiana Historical Radio Museum.”

The territory that Kennedy claimed as overlord wasn’t far from the hotel, so you walked it, the smell of burning plastic cooling on the evening air. You had a smile on your lips as you strolled, humming an old jazz standard. Sinners cringed, backing into dark alleys and doorways to avoid being in your path, and you twirled your cane. Your resemblance to Alastor was more a hindrance than a benefit here, in that it curtailed several possible avenues of approach. Difficult to form a friendly connection, or talk your way into someone’s home, when you wore an outfit synonymous with the word monster. But that was probably just as well- you were hungry for a kill, and desperation was a quality that people could smell a mile off. Besides, your new body did afford some advantages, ones you had spent your weeks at the hotel honing.

Stepping into one of the back alleys and letting the shadows shroud your form, you pressed your talons to the wall. Sharp and strong, they found purchase, and you scaled the side of the building within a few seconds, crawling up and onto the roof. That was a feat that you would have struggled to replicate with your human body, but here you were a different creature, all sharp edges and horrid, grinning points.

The first thing Vox did after finding your name was to check for it on the Voxtek systems.

There were certainly a lot of people down here who wanted to find you. Most names popped up with half a dozen requests, tops- usually immediate family, a lover. You had… huh, that was a lot. And over how many years? Vox felt his screen lag slightly as he scanned the names. None of them relations. Older than you, or close in age. Unless you were the world’s greatest Lothario and all these guys were queuing up for a post mortem hook-up, there was only one kind of person who got this kind of ask list before they died.

“Jesus tittyfucking Christ,” said Vox, mostly to himself. What the fuck had Val been thinking, dumping you on his bedroom floor without so much as a background check? No wonder Alastor liked you so much.

Years of practice had taught you that killing was more art than science; that the most thorough of preparations could be derailed in an instant and that opportunities would present themselves, if you just allowed them. The universe opened itself to those who were generous, and if you left yourself flexible to the how, the act itself was often simply a matter of having the guts to do what the moment needed. This didn’t mean that the task before you didn’t fill you with trepidation, however- quite the contrary. Kennedy was bigger than you physically, an overlord when you were not, and you had little understanding of how or why physical capabilities varied from sinner to sinner. Niffty, for example, was deceptively strong despite her small size- you had seen her do things like break the lock on the cabinet behind the bar in search of bugs to kill.

You had overpowered Alastor, briefly, but that was with angelic wire and the element of surprise, Alastor with a wound across his chest. Relying solely on physical superiority wasn’t smart, and neither was picking a situation where Kennedy could fight back.

Alastor clearly thought you were up to the task. He’d given you his red tailcoat to wear, and you could tell how precious it was to him, from the way he fretted over the way it hung, the ragged edges on the tails. He wouldn’t have let you wear it if he thought you would fail. But his confidence in you was no reason to be foolhardy.

You stalked from roof to roof across the overlord’s territory, noting the deployment of the soldiers in Kennedy’s livery. They loitered, undisciplined, at street corners and food stands, harassing passing sinners, but they were out in force.

“Ugh, there you are.” It took you a second to realize the billboard was talking to you, another to realize it had Vox’s face, scowling at you from an ad for Vox brand soda. “Why the fuck don’t you have a phone yet?

“Maybe because I don’t want people knowing where I am at all times? Not that that seems to be working.” You walked to the edge of the roof, gauging the distance with your eyes, and leapt the width of the narrow alleyway to the next building, landing with a bark of laughter, a giddy feeling in your chest. In your previous life, parkour hadn’t been so much a hobby as an occasional necessity, but your new body took to it with aplomb, your feet finding their place with a flex of your new ankles and knees.

“Seems like yesterday that you could barely walk, now look at you.” Vox leered at you from a second billboard as you walked the roof, long shadows and sharp angles. On top of your head your antlers thrummed, branching in the darkness.

You glanced up. “You helped me find my feet. I’m grateful,” you said, and felt your smile grow wider as a blush, an actual, honest-to-god blush bloomed on Vox’s wide, rectangular face before you turned away, leaping a second alley. Oh, you were graceful now.

“Hey! Can you stand still for one fuckin’ second? I wanna talk to you.” Vox was on the billboard on top of this building now, his face taking the place of the chef in an ad for Voxtek brand ovens.

You relented, squatting down by the frame that supported the billboard, checking out the layout of the streets below and hooking your cane across the back of your shoulders. “Can it wait? I have plans tonight.”

“Oh, fuck my life.” Vox shook his head and you watched with interest as the giant chef on the billboard crouched down to the bottom on the frame. “Of course you’re going after fucking Kennedy.” It was curious, how his demeanor had changed since the overlord’s meeting- there, he’d been keen to scare you, telling you at length about Kennedy’s powers and deeds- but now he seemed resigned to your hunt. What had changed? Had he actually talked to Alastor?

Your plan for tonight had been to scope out his living arrangement, maybe a little stalking, but Vox didn’t need to know that. Instead, you asked a question. “Are you going to stop me?”

Vox raised an eyebrow, the virtual plate of venison behind him steaming. “The fuck would I stop you, baby deer? Hell’s most wanted making their spectacular debut?”

Hell’s most wanted? You felt your ears flatten to your skull, a shiver in your gut. What the fuck did Vox know? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Now, now.” Vox grinned, a glint in his eye. “If you wanna pretend to be Alastor, you’ve gotta smile at least,” he said, and you reached to your face, finding your mouth a single, serious line. You corrected it as Vox continued. “Yeah, there’s a few south americans with a longer list of victims than yours, but I think I’m entitled to some fucking creative license on this, ya know.”

He knew. He had your identity, somehow. And likely the names of the people you had killed who had ended up in Hell. Which would be all of them, if there was any justice in the universe. You breathed out, slow and even, careful to keep your smile in place this time. “Alright. What do you want?”

“Why didn’t you kill me in my sleep?” Vox asked. You thought he was joking at first, but the expression in his eyes told you otherwise. You thought of the nights you’d spent with him, body curled round his, your cheek against the lower edge of his screen. He had been completely unguarded in those moments, and you had been his prisoner.

You gave Vox a puzzled smile. “You were giving me orgasms and food, why the fuck would I kill you?”

“Oh.” If anything, Vox seemed taken aback by your response. Was that more pink and red on his screen? “I, uh- I could do that again.”

“Was that all? You’re not going to threaten me?” You stood, spinning your cane around your wrist. “Like I said, I do have things to do tonight.”

“Now, wait! Wait just one goddamn second, baby deer.” Vox followed you across the billboard as you walked. “I can help.”

That did make you pause. In the mortal world you would have refused without a second thought- an accomplice was a witness and a liability. But here? In Hell, there was no law enforcement save what the overlords dispensed. You would never have asked Vox for a favor, but if he was going to offer his services? For free? Alastor would probably be sniffy about it, but who could blame you for making use of all the resources at your disposal? You looked up at him again. “Can you edit camera footage in real time?”

“Uh, sure.” Vox grinned. “You want me to edit you out of it, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded. “And you’re doing this gratis, right?” This bit was important- you didn’t want to end up owing your soul for something like this.

“Relax, baby deer, trust me,” said Vox, eyes half-lidded, and his voice might have sounded seductive if you weren’t thinking about bloodshed. “No charge, just helping a friend out.”

It took most sinners years to get to the point where they could allow their bodies to shift beyond human norms. Even then, most people made it as far as some horns, some claws, a bit of size before their mental preconceptions, or whatever most people had, stopped them dead. But here you were, full fucking cryptid, crawling the fucking walls. Yeah, you didn’t have Alastor’s freaky shadow powers, and you were still pretty much the same size as you had been, but it barely mattered in this context, with the dark covering you. You were still a monster with glowing dials for eyes.

Vox might have assumed Alastor had done something to you to make you this way if he hadn’t known your history.

Vox might have remembered to be scared if he wasn’t rock hard in his pants just from watching you.

It was almost a shame that you resembled Alastor so strongly. A newly fledged sinner taking down an overlord would be big news, enough to fill the channels with speculation and talking heads for half a cycle at least, but someone who looked like Alastor doing it was just Radio Demon bites man, an item for a slow news day.

Editing you out of footage in real time wasn’t difficult for Vox. You were eerily good at finding the blind spots on the security feeds as you made your approach to Kennedy’s building, only lingering in exposed sections when the alternative would see you in a sinner’s line of sight. Sometimes you would look up at a camera, a tilt of your grinning head to acknowledge his presence as a viewer.

The whole thing was kind of fun, if Vox was honest with himself, the only thing missing from the whole caper being an earpiece to let him annoy your with commentary. It reminded him of accompanying Alastor on his errands, back in the old days, when Alastor would display his full demonic form and then give a small, backwards glance to Vox, to check he was being properly admired.

You hummed the opening bars of the saints as you scaled the wall of Kennedy’s building, ascending to the penthouse. Security cameras were trained on the outer walls to prevent exactly this sort of egress, but you trusted Vox enough that you paid only minimal attention to them, keeping to the blind spots where you could, crawling in shadows where you couldn’t.

You’d been through longer dry spells than this one in your lifetime. A six month stint here, a year there; all of them spent in a state of tension, a spring wound tightly enough that the metal threatened stress fractures. In the few weeks you’d spent in Hell you’d had sex and entertainment aplenty, that ought to have been enough to take the edge from your need. Why then, did this feel worse? You could feel the anticipation running through you, taste it like blood in your mouth. You wanted violence. You wanted pain. You wanted control.

Perhaps that was why you felt like this, so needy that your fingernails ached, that your teeth grew long and pointed in your grin. When you’d held yourself back before it had been of your own accord, lying low to avoid scrutiny, from the police or from your quarry, but here you had been a prisoner of circumstance, first a literal prisoner and then constrained by your own nascent body. You hauled yourself over the ledge and onto the external sill of the penthouse windows, briefly confronted by the reddish glow of your own eyes in the reflection. The glass was single glazed, not shatterproof, the latches easy enough to manipulate from the outside. You could get inside any time you wanted.

You crept round the penthouse from the outside of the building, looking into each room in turn. A lounge area, a kitchen with a breakfast bar, open plan. A bathroom, a jacuzzi tub pressed up against the window for a questionable view of Pentagram City’s skyline.

Finally, the bedroom. Kennedy, asleep. But the effects strewn around the floor of the room belonged to more than one person. You remained still, listening, and sure enough there was a sob from behind the closed door of the ensuite bathroom. Partner? Whore? Probably the latter, given the man had killed his last three partners. Either way, it didn’t matter- it was still someone who would scream if they saw you.

You paused. You didn’t really want collateral, but having a witness was bad too. Not as bad as it would be topside, but Alastor wanted the killing to reflect on the reputation of the Radio Demon, which was easier if no-one saw.

You sucked your lip, thinking. Fuck it. You were unlikely to get a cleaner opportunity than this, and even if it went completely to shit, you still had avenues of escape available. It wasn’t like there was a police force in Hell, anyway.

With a well-placed percussive strike to the frame, you damaged the latch enough to slide open the window and stepped into the room, tucking your cane under one arm as you dropped to the floor.

Opening the bathroom door brought you face to face with a pig sinner with running mascara. You clamped a hand over their mouth to stop them crying out in surprise, then lifted a dramatic finger to your own smiling lips. They nodded once, in understanding, and you released their face before gesturing to the bedroom door. Go. Now.

They obeyed, an expression of terror in their panda-ringed eyes, and you turned to the bed, your quarry’s sleeping form, a surge of ardor coursing through your body. The fleeing pig sinner was likely to alert someone, but you stopped to soak in the moment anyway, the air in your lungs feeling briefly like fire, your pulse resounding through your tongue and through your loins. Here you were. Here was your true self. Glimpsed in the mirror of the walk-in wardrobe, your antlers looked like the tops of dead trees before a yellow moon, like old bones emerging from the bayou in a season of drought, and your breath was the noise of rain on powerlines, an ominous, crackling hum.

There wasn’t a struggle. Only release, sweet and wet and bloody.

What the fuck was taking you so long? For some reason that Vox didn’t understand, Kennedy had neglected to install cameras in his penthouse suite, and he cycled impatiently through the feeds outside. There was certainly something happening inside, a few of Kennedy’s goons milling around the doors. But no sign of you. Vox waited.

He was fairly sure you weren’t in trouble, but what if you were? You were a new sinner, after all, even if you were a murderer, no souls to your name, and no-one knew how exactly how the strength of someone’s soul was determined.

Finally, he phoned Kennedy’s number.

You looked up from the mess of blood on the bed at the glowing blue rectangle of the phone on the dresser. Vox, the screen read.

Oh, your hands were so slick with blood. It took you a couple tries to activate the touch screen, your fingertips leaving red-brown smears that made the screen trip out.

“Vox!” You felt so good now; it made you want to sing. There was blood on your tongue and on your face. “I got a phone!”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking ate him, didn’t you.” Vox’s irritation seeped through the surface of the phone, and he sighed. “Listen carefully, baby deer- you need to get the fuck out of there.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Kennedy’s goons think the Radio Demon is in there. Look, baby, you’re dangerous, I get that. I respect it. But you’re nowhere near Al’s level. You’re not gonna hold your own against twenty guys with machine guns. Get the fuck out of that building.”

Somewhere between the swearing and the threats, you started to feel a little more like your normal self. You glanced back at the bed- the remnants of Kennedy didn’t look like anything other than random, discarded meat- he wasn’t coming back, and hopefully that would be good enough for Alastor. “Got it,” you said, and after a couple of failed bloody finger swipes, managed to hang up on Vox.

Popping Kennedy’s phone into your pocket, you headed out.

The path to the hotel ought to have been clear. It had been, when you had headed out. But on your return you found the final intersection before the hotel populated by gangsters, guns trained in all dimensions. They looked nervous. You caught a whisper on the air. Radio Demon.

Of course. You had been seen.

Of course. They were waiting for you. For Alastor.

You stared at the line of goons guarding the intersection, the hotel just beyond them. You tried to take a step forward, but something stopped you, the rattle of a chain, and a pressure on your ankle. Of course. No bringing trouble to the hotel. That had been one of the conditions of your original contract with Alastor, and it was coming into play now. No going through. And chances were that Kennedy’s people had surrounded the hotel in the hopes of catching Alastor. What were your options? You could stay on the streets for the night, bloodstained and dangerous, and hope that you didn’t get caught in any acid rain.

Or you could take your second option. Gingerly, you reached into your pocket and pulled out Kennedy’s phone. His contacts list was sadly devoid of people you knew, so you phoned Vox again.

“Yeah?” He picked up before you had the phone to your ear, and you grinned at the thought that he was waiting for a call back.

“Can I crash at yours tonight? Some guys have barricaded the road to the hotel.” You paused a beat. “No funny stuff.”

There was, of course, another reason you wanted to see Vox. The list of your quarry who were still in Hell was a temptation and a half. Even now, when you were full and sated, with Kennedy’s blood still drying on your skin, you could feel the appeal of it, the symmetry- to hunt the bad men that you had hunted before.

Vox sighed as he grabbed a pair of tumblers and a bottle of yamazaki single malt from his liquor cabinet. This would be so easy, if only he could hypnotize you. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t- he could feel the give of your mind with each little push- you were strong willed but that was all. He had taken stronger minds than yours. He had taken Alastor, for fuck’s sake, had made his eyes glaze over and his slight body go limp under his influence. He had pushed Alastor’s mind, and he’d told himself it had been worth it, up until the point when Alastor had found his abuse, and those red eyes had turned from hard-earned trust to betrayal.

So no, he wouldn’t hypnotize you, even if you had just walked straight into his personal quarters looking like you just walked out of an abattoir and asked to use his sound system.

He’d been right about his impression of you over the phone- you were euphoric and reckless, probably as a side-effect of eating Pentagram’s newest overlord. VNN already had reporters on the scene and there was barely a scrap of Kennedy left, with at least two witnesses now claiming to have seen the Radio Demon.

You were sat about a foot from the speakers, cross-legged, sit bones on the floor, your right hoof resting on your left knee as you basked in the music. Vox crouched beside you, pressing a tumbler into your hand, and, as he was close, pressed his face to the back of your head and breathed in your scent. Fuck, you even smelled like Alastor now; the same mix of musk, formaldehyde and blood that Vox remembered.

Gently, you grabbed the edge of his screen and moved him away. “Stop that.”

“Why should I stop?” Vox asked, his voice coaxing. “You’re worried Alastor’s gonna be mad?”

“No, I think he’d be upset. And I don’t think you want him to be upset either.” You raised an eyebrow at him, and Vox felt a chill run down his spine. “Do you, Vox?”

Fuck. Vox pulled a face. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Maybe.” Your smile was small, and your ears twitched at some unheard thing. “You’re going to need another glass.”

Vox frowned. “For you?”

Your smile grew wider. “For Alastor.”

“Alastor?” Vox repeated.

“Speak of the devil,” said Alastor, his elocution crisp as he manifested from the shadow. “And he shall appear.”

One of the most basic workings in Vodou, the one that Alastor’s mother had warned him to avoid being trapped by, was the exchange of fluids. If a man consumed the menses of a woman, it was trivially easy for her to control him, track him, whatever she wanted. The same was true with men and their seed, and it behooved any practitioner to be careful who they accepted food from. A mutual consumption was a stronger link still, a little of the practitioner in the target and a little of the target in the practitioner.

Though you were neither male nor female, his own personal blasphemous sacred twin, there had certainly been enough exchange of fluids between you. Alastor could feel the power latent in the link; an ancient, primal sort of magic. It wasn’t the sort of thing he usually dabbled in, and if his microphone had been intact he wouldn’t have even considered it, but in his current state it was a comfort. He tuned out the banal late night chatter at the hotel bar in favor of the link to you, the smile on his face automatic. He felt you as you moved across the city, to your intended location, and then your return path to the hotel.

And then, your failure to return.

“Sir?” Niffty asked, a small hand on his knee. Something must have showed in his eyes, because both Angel and Husk were looking at him too. “Is something wrong?”

Alastor gave a terse smile. “Never better,” he said, rising from his seat. “I have merely remembered an errand I must run.”

And run was the operative word, as yet again the conditions of his deal with you compelled him. He would keep you free of being Vox’s prisoner. He had promised.

He had slid across the city and through the tower, a shadow, depleting precious reserves of power, his compass to you unerring, and his heart had lurched when he had found you in Vox’s personal quarters, sat in front of the sound system. When Vox had knelt to smell your hair, Alastor had felt his antlers creak as they grew, fierce and territorial.

Vox’s voice was wheedling, the same tone that had always worked on him somehow. “You’re worried Alastor’s gonna be mad?”

“No,” came your voice, a touch more forceful than you usually were. “I just think he’d be upset. And I don’t think you want him to be upset either. Do you, Vox?”

“Am I that easy to read?” Vox’s face was pathetic, and Alastor’s heart lurched again, with something like pity this time, or perhaps regret. They had been friends once, great friends.

“Al-” Vox breathed, eyes wide.

Alastor stepped past him, to you. His smile was wan. “Darling, you smell like bloodshed,” he said, proffering a red-taloned hand and helping you to your feet. “We should go.”

“Vox was just pouring us drinks,” you said, not wanting the evening to end particularly. Vox still had your list of victims, and the sound system was just as sublime as you thought it would be.

Vox gave you a grateful look, and waggled his expensive bottle of single malt. Alastor looked between the two of you, and sighed. “I suppose we can stay for a round or two,” he said, spreading his fingers. “But at least put some decent music on.”

That was how you had ended up on the couch in Vox’s private quarters, half sitting on Alastor’s lap, a glass of whiskey in your hand, listening to the musical stylings of Papa Celestin on Vox’s frankly impressive sound system as Alastor, now down to shirtsleeves, told stories about some of the band members- who had played with who and who had cheated at cards. It seemed like every time you had nearly finished your drink Vox was there with the bottle again, not just for you but for Alastor. A few drinks later, the playlist had moved on to Johnny Hodges ballads and Alastor was handsy, his talons tracing lines over your antlers, your neck, your back, and down over your hips.

“And then his brother formed a band with Scrapper Blackwell’s bassist,” said Alastor, fingers pressing over your tail. “Mimzy was dating their percussionist for a while.”

“Wait a damn minute Al, you’ve told me this one before.” Vox was temptingly close on the couch next to you, but he made no overtures, apparently content to watch Alastor run his hands over you. “I thought you said it was the pianist?”

Alastor hummed, one claw hooking its way into your already loosened bow tie and pulling it open. “Maybe it was both. That would explain why the rhythm section was so lively.”

You relaxed into his touch, your earlier violence rendering you satiated and languorous; content to go where he led you. You smiled up at Alastor, baring your neck to him as he undid the top button of your shirt.

Vox made a noise in his throat. “Al? Are you-”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Alastor’s grin was lopsided as his attention flicked to Vox. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, after all.”

To make a point, Alastor dipped his head to kiss you. It was messier than he usually was, Alastor’s breath reeking of alcohol, and his tongue caressed your lips and cheeks, tasting the blood that stained them.

“Fuck,” Alastor breathed, his pupils wide as he broke the kiss. “Darling, you taste like dead overlord.”

“You would know, Al,” Vox shot, and Alastor grinned.

“Vox,” he called, like a man trying to coax a pet dog. “You really should have a taste.”

You sat up and watched with amusement as Vox feigned insouciance, shuffling closer to you on the couch as Alastor held you, one arm possessive around your waist. You wondered for a second if he would take the coward’s way out, and press his tongue to your forehead or your cheek, but Vox, with an expression close to awe, pushed a little of your blood-matted hair back from your cheek, his talontips under your jaw, and kissed you.

Vox’s lips were the tingle of static, his tongue shivering hot as it twined against yours, pressing up against your teeth and your gums, and you groaned into the kiss. Alastor’s grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him grow turgid, cock pressing up against your ass as Vox kissed you.

When Vox broke the kiss his eyes held something akin to despair, fingers trailing on your jaw as Alastor pulled you to him, a fierce, possessive look on his face. You rolled your hips back, grinding against Alastor’s erection through layers of fabric, and enjoyed the shiver he gave; the way his cock grew hard and hot, his face pressing into your neck, points of his teeth grazing your skin with lines of hot sensation that you would probably regret in the morning.

Vox hesitated, wary of Alastor’s jealousy, and you caught him by the collar, pulling him in for a second kiss. His chest pressed against yours, sandwiching you between him and Alastor, Alastor’s tongue tracing hot lines against the sensitive skin of your neck as Vox’s tangled in your mouth, the heartfelt groan that Vox gave resonating through the three of you.

“Thank you,” gasped Vox, his eyes closed, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at you, Alastor, or God. It didn’t matter. You traced the hard lines of his square face with your fingers, feeling Alastor’s hands on your hips, pulling you firmly against him, as if to remind you whose bed you slept in. You turned your head to kiss Alastor, the kiss breathless and full of urgency, his teeth nipping bloody at your lips, and Vox’s hands were at the buttons of your shirt, peeling back the fabric that stuck to your skin with half-dry overlord blood.

Vox’s talented lips kissed over your chest, then your stomach, the static from his screen making your skin prickle as your hairs stood on end.

“You want the television demon to blow you, darling?” Alastor murmured, his lips brushing the fur on your ears, the tips of your antlers, and his words went straight to your cock, stirring you to half-mast. “You want his mouth on you?”

“Yes,” you murmured, and that was all it took for Vox to have your pants off, Alastor releasing your hips for long enough that Vox could maneuver you into a position where Vox could blow you. The upper edge of his rectangular head was level with your diaphragm as he took you in, his tongue gentle as he coaxed you to hardness. The inside of his mouth was warm, his tongue almost buzzing against your cock as he wound it round in a spiral, and you shivered as he did, resisting the urge to grab him by the edges of his face and fuck into him. A whine escaped your throat, low and needy.

Alastor kissed your neck, his eyes curious as he watched Vox take you to the hilt in his mouth. “But where does it go?” he asked, his gaze on the back of Vox’s extremely flat head, red eyes narrowed.

You closed your eyes, still basking in the sensation of Vox’s tongue around your shaft, the soft flesh at the back of his mouth. “The Head Dimension, of course,” you said, and you felt Vox nearly gag with laughter; not an entirely unpleasant feeling, except that he pulled his mouth from your cock almost immediately.

“Jesus, Bambi, don’t make me laugh like that!” Vox gaped at you, wiping a digital tear from his face. “Fuck!”

Alastor tittered, the noise silvery, his narrow chest shaking with mirth as he leaned into your shoulder. “He’s just pissy that he didn’t think of that first,” he said. “Wordplay was never his strong point.”

“I’ll show you my strong point,” muttered Vox, peeling off his own shirt as he did.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get to that eventually,” said Alastor, and you remembered how his cock had twitched inside you each time he had teased Vox in the armchair. “In the meantime-” he continued, hooking a clawed hand around your hip and pulling you to him once more, turning you to face him in his lap. “We have more important things to deal with.”

“The fuck did you do to their back, Al?” complained Vox, his hands warm on the furrows that Alastor’s claws had carved across your shoulders the night previous, but Alastor ignored him, kissing you lightly as he guided your hand to his fly, the fabric there taut with his arousal. You touched him, through the fabric first and then unfastening his fly and easing him out, a surge of sympathetic lust through your core as you held his cock in your hand, palm curling round his hardness. The noise he gave was a soft one, an exhalation of breath through his nose accompanied by a beat of deeper than appliance pitch humming.

You palmed Alastor’s cock, and his fingers went to your antlers, dancing lightly across the tines, each touch of his a musical note that resonated through your skull, your spine and down to your core, making you tremble, aching with want as you watched Alastor’s antlers expand in turn. Vox didn’t touch them, but you could feel him watching keenly, his own electrical powers a fuzzy interference at the periphery of your senses as you pumped Alastor’s cock with your hand.

“Inside me?” you asked Alastor, not least because having his cock in your palm made you ache with desire, and Alastor nodded, leaning back a little to let you straddle him. You guided him with your hand as you lowered yourself onto him, watching the delicious way he smiled as you did so; the way he bit his lip, his eyes fluttering half closed.

“Fuck,” Alastor spoke the word like a prayer rather than a curse as you sank onto him, Vox’s hands on your shoulders, then your waist, Alastor spreading his knees to let Vox between them.

“You look so fucking pretty like that,” said Vox, his voice full of gravel as he reached around you, hand finding your cock and folding around it, but his eyes were on Alastor, as well as you, as he spoke.

Vox’s grip was as firm as it had been when he had crawled into bed with you on your first night in Hell, and no less effective, pumping in time as you rode Alastor, your thighs working to lift and lower you. At first it seemed like Alastor would be content to be ridden, his face flushed and his hips staying in place as he made soft groans of appreciation, but when he kissed you and a squeeze of Vox’s hand made you whimper against his lips, Alastor’s hand joined Vox’s around your cock, talons curling around the back of Vox’s hand and forcing him to tighten his grip.

There was a moment of electricity then, Vox’s breath stilling in his throat, his bare chest pressed flush against your back.

“What’s the matter?” Alastor asked Vox, his expression sly and teasing as he forced Vox’s hand to grip you, started it moving again at a steady, sublime cadence. “You’ve never objected to a guiding hand before.”

Vox’s audio glitched before he spoke, accompanied by a myclonic jerk that you felt through his chest against your back, his hand involuntary squeezing around your shaft. “A-Alastor,” he stuttered, his audio still clipping, for all the world as if their hands were clasped around Vox’s cock rather than yours. “Oh, god.”

Alastor smirked against your neck, pretending careless superiority, but he couldn’t hide the pleasant twitch of arousal his cock gave inside your cunt when Vox moaned his name. Vox was right, though; Alastor did look beautiful, color on his cheeks that could have been the drink or arousal or both, his lips parted, as he panted through his jagged teeth, still smiling, always smiling, as his hair fell in strands across his face, his antlers handsomely tall.

When had you become so fond of him, you wondered, as he guided Vox’s hand in a pattern that had you aching for release, a pulse through your core as precum beaded at your tip. You stilled your hips as the sensation of their hands together on your cock threatened to overwhelm you, sinking down fully onto Alastor’s cock and pressing your face into his shirt with a whimper.

“What’s this?” Alastor turned his teasing smile on you now, rather than Vox. “So close already?” He nipped at the edge of your ear, not hard enough to do damage, but enough that you could feel the fine points of his teeth, and you gasped. “You know, of course, that it won’t save you? That we will keep going until we’ve had our fill of you?”

“We?” Vox repeated, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hoarse, and your stomach swooped as you caught the implication too. “That mean what I think it means, Al?”

“My delightful friend here has two holes, after all,” said Alastor, pressing his cheek to your antler. “It seems a waste to use only one of them.”

You half expected Vox to run off and get a toy, but instead he fetched a bottle of lubricant from a compartment under the couch, and kissed his way down your back, over your shoulders and the claw marks that Alastor had made, his screen warm against the small of your back, making the fur on your tail stand on end.

“You’re gonna love this, baby deer,” said Vox, one hand on your back pushing you forward over Alastor. “Trust me,” he added wryly, when you gave a doubtful backwards glance.

“With your tongue?” Alastor’s tone was both scandalized and fascinated as he peered over your shoulder at Vox.

Vox didn’t bother answering him, simply spread your ass apart a little with his hands and set to work. His tongue was like white noise on your skin as he lapped at your entrance, wet and hot as he dragged it over sensitive flesh. You felt exposed; even like this, with Alastor’s cock to the hilt inside your cunt, you felt exposed. You cried out as Vox’s tongue made egress, the narrow tip pushing past your tight ring of muscle and then inside.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your face in Alastor’s collar again, and Alastor must have noticed how Vox’s tongue pressed against your walls, against his cock inside you, because he looked sharply at Vox.

“Keep doing that,” he said, a sharp note of desire in his voice, and you felt Vox’s groan as he pushed his tongue a little further in, the sensation all slickness and pressure as his tongue stroked Alastor’s cock through the thin layer of your flesh.

Alastor found your cock with his hand again, his smile cruel as he caressed your shaft. “You’re going to come, aren’t you, darling? You’re going to spend yourself with Vox’s tongue up your ass.”

It wasn’t fair. You could barely think straight, let alone give any answer other than an obscene, whorish whimper, not with both of them working your insides and Alastor’s knowing hand on your cock. The first time you’d met, he’d shown you how he knew your body better than you did yourself, and that was still true now, the strength of his grip and his tempo nothing other than perfection as he ground his hips up into you, rutting into you and rutting against Vox’s tongue, each movement one of blinding ecstasy, sensation so strong that it seemed to bleed into senses other than touch. You had no chance to catch your breath, no surcease from the assault, and no choice other than to feel yourself fall, your whole body seeming to seize in orgasm, the cry in your throat free of static as your cunt and cock pulsed in time, painting a white line up Alastor’s red shirt and spattering his cheek.

“See? What did I tell you?” Vox’s grin was triumphant as he pulled his tongue from you, his claws caressing your tail. Your body was still sensitive from the aftershocks, and his simple touch brought another one on, an involuntary animal cry in your throat. Vox scoffed and squeezed again, threading his talons through your fur, the sensation alone enough to make your stomach flutter, and through the corner of your eye you saw him take one of the discarded whiskey glasses and drain it, swilling it around his mouth before he swallowed.

“Oh, oh, sweetheart,” Alastor wiped your cum from his cheek and brought his fingers to your mouth, slipping his talons between your lips for you to suck clean. His voice was a croon, his breath hitching with each spasm that wracked you. “You fit me just perfectly, don’t you?”

You hummed around his fingers in response. It was an act of trust, just as much as the sex was- your teeth were every bit as sharp as his- and his fingers felt good in your mouth, like a gift. You closed your eyes, tracing the delicate lines of his fingers with your tongue, and felt as Vox lined himself up behind you, the warm tip of his cock resting first against your tail, then sliding down, the tip leaving a trail of wetness as he lined up with your entrance, the tip brushing against the flesh he had lapped with his tongue a few moments before.

Vox breathed out heavily, talons cradling your hips. “Are you sure about this, Al?”

“I think it’s customary,” said Alastor, a little snippily. “To ask that to the person you are about to fuck.”

“Shit.” You felt the tension in Vox’s body at Alastor’s rebuke. “You, uh, doin’ okay there, baby deer?”

You released Alastor’s fingers from your mouth, and turned your head to Vox, as far as you could twist with Alastor still inside you. Vox leaned in to accommodate, and you caught his lips with yours, hooking your forearm round his screen to keep him close as you kissed him, Alastor pressing his lips to your neck as you did. Taking the kiss as assent, Vox pushed into you, slowly.

Your inebriation and your orgasm helped make you loose, and Vox had been liberal with the lubricant on his tongue, but with Alastor inside you as well the fit was a tight one. Alastor tensed when he felt Vox push his way into your ass, his hips stilling and the soft hiss of static escaping his lips.

“God,” mumbled Vox as he bottomed out, his claws on your hips tight enough to mark you. “Fucking god. Al.”

Alastor didn’t bother with words, but the strangled noise in his throat might as well have been agreement.

Both of their eyes fluttered closed, and you felt a tremble in Vox’s arms. They could feel each other. They could feel each other inside you, both of them together stuffing you to the brim.

“I- I’m gonna move now,” said Vox, a pleading edge to his voice. He swallowed, edge of his screen knocking briefly against your antlers. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you managed, briefly getting yourself to a state where you could form actual words rather than animalistic whimpering. “Just full.”

“If he hurts you,” said Alastor, into your collarbone. “I will eviscerate him.”

“Fuck me.” Vox exhaled again, sounding more like himself. “I have never seen him this fucking protective. Of anyone. But sure thing Al, I'll go gentle.”

True to his word, Vox went slowly as he fucked you, fucked both of you. Post orgasmic and still sensitive, the sensation of it filled your awareness; at the apex you were so full that everything pressed together, Vox’s cock pressing into Alastor’s through your thin divider of flesh, Alastor’s cock pushed almost by default into the sensitive spongy tissue that he would usually need to angle his hips to find. There was no escape, not for you nor for Alastor- Vox’s cock stroking his as much as it was fucking you, and you found yourself crying out in tandem with him, the same sweet noises from both your throats, the sound so close that it made strange beats and harmonies around you. Vox kissed you, sensuous and open mouthed, then Alastor kissed you, fierce and possessive, then Vox again, lapping up the blood that Alastor had drawn from your lips, your head swimming as two sets of claws held you in place.

You grew hard again, your body responding to being pressed between the two of them and fucked, and Vox took your cock in his hand, a victorious growl from his throat.

“You wanna cum round Al’s cock again, don't you, baby deer,” Vox’s voice was thick with desire, his hand firm as he handled your already overstimulated cock. Even a gentle stroke would have been too much, and his manipulation was more than that.

“I can't-” you managed between gasps of air. With both of them in you, you were stuffed to the brim, each roll of Vox’s hips bringing tears to your eyes. “Too much. Please.”

“You want him to feel you twitching around him, though, don't you?” Vox’s voice was coaxing, the hand that wasn't stroking your cock hooking round your waist, the heel of his hand pressing into your stomach, below your navel, pressing everything together inside you. “You want him to feel good, don't you?” said Vox, his breath hot on the back of your neck, and you stared into Alastor's lust-blown eyes, feeling the way Alastor trembled each time Vox ploughed into you, only your inner wall separating them.

“Yes,” you whimpered, but it was Alastor who cried out, drawing blood from his own lip, his hands tight on your hips. Alastor came a second before you did, his seed inside you a wave of heat as your cunt pulsed around him, your cock twitching weakly in Vox’s hand.

“Fuck-” Vox breathed, clinging to you tightly, the edge of his screen digging hard into the tops of your shoulders as the feeling of you and Alastor coming dragged him over the edge, his composure lost, and you made a noise in your throat as you felt him shoot his load in you, into your already overstuffed hole.

For a moment, the two of them inside you filled the entirety of your awareness, the pulsing warmth that filled your stomach, the tight grip that both Alastor and Vox had on you. Then you sank forward onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the grips became slow caresses, claws gentle against your bruised skin. Both of them praising you, neither man quite ready to look the other in the eye. They pulled out of you, and it occurred to you that you needed a shower, but you had barely enough energy left in you to lay back on Vox’s couch, your forearm over your eyes.

The last thing you remembered before you blacked out was Vox pouring another finger of obscenely expensive Japanese whiskey, some Ella Fitzgerald playing as the two of them admired how pretty you looked with their cum leaking out of you.

If this was Hell, then what the fuck went on in Heaven?

#alastor x reader #vox x reader #alastor x vox #alastor x reader x vox #radiostatic x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin x reader #antlerplay #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x alastor #radiostatic x you #radiostatic x y/n #radio demon x reader

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Okay, it's not the weekend yet, but I had a very tough day and need a lot of some fluff with eventual smut with Choso. Since you're my fav JJK person here who accepts requests, I thought it was worth trying to send a request out of schedule.

I'm sorry to hear that. And I'm your favorite JJK author? Really? You have no idea how big and ridiculous the grin on my face is rn. Like I'm giggling and tapping my feet rn. So the reason I made Thirsty Weekends is because it's hard to say when my schedule will get busy and IDK when I'd be able to answer requests in the middle of the week. My inbox is by no means closed, and I'm always open to listen about people's days if they need to talk. Feel free to inbox me with requests, or just random stuff. I try to respond to everything. I'm very nice. I only bite when I'm hungry.

(actual writing below)

You slam the front door shut, your angry footsteps alerting Choso instantly. He sees your face, that tight, pinched, look of pure anger and quickly runs over to pull you into a tight hug. You struggle against him.

"Don't want a hug." He doesn't let go and you feel helpless, thrashing about until tears start falling down your cheeks.

"I don't want a hug," you say softly as your voice cracks.

"It's ok. I wanted to hug you anyway." Choso's arms are like a straitjacket around you, preventing movement, pressing you against his warm, muscular chest. A sob escapes you and you bury yourself into the crook of his neck.

"I fucking hate everything Cho."

"It's ok. Let's take a breath and calm down." He scoops you up into his arms and carries you into your shared bedroom, laying you down on the bed before spooning you possessively, arms around your waist, gently squishing the softness of your belly. His presence instantly calms you down. "Tell me what happened."

"It's just everything. Work was awful. I got dragged into a meeting that wasn't my responsibility. And I'm fat."

"Hey. No. You are not. You're perfect. And screw those people for making my baby cry." He presses kisses to the back of your neck and holds you tighter. You sniffle, trying to calm down.

"Promise?"

"Yes. My sweet doll, yes. So perfect. An angel. I'm blessed to have you." His knees float under yours and bend upwards, bringing you into fetal position and tucked in more intimately with his body. That feeling of being rolled up like a little bun against him was so sweet and you feel a wave of peace wash over you. You sigh deeply.

"You're the best Cho." He continues to nuzzle your hair, and you suddenly can't ignore how firm his chest was pressed against your back, the cut abs pressing down the length of your spine. Teasingly, you grind your ass against his thighs, grinning wickedly as a whimper leaves his lips and he hardens.

"Cho." You turn to face him. "Fuck the negativity out of me."

"Ah...are you sure?" His cheeks start to show a smattering of pink.

"So sure." You brush your lips against his encouragingly, sending a current of heat through him.

Taking this as a cue, he wastes no time slipping you out of your clothes, pressing wet kisses along the length of your neck. You paw at his clothes, the garments thrown about carelessly, and press your softness against the warm, chiseled, wall of his body enjoying the intimate skin-to-skin contact. Your fingers tangle in his hair, let loose from his usual double top knots before kissing him greedily, a gasp escaping your lips, muffled by his as he rubs your clothed clit with his thumb.

The gasp becomes a moan, legs parting as he touches the needy little bud, enjoying each throb and spasm.

"So wet my angel...You really wanted me huh?" Choso's free hand tugs your nipple, adding to the growing desire in your belly.

You whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck as pleasure flows through you , and suddenly, it peaks, and you sob your delight as it passes through you, wracking your body as you spasm uncontrollably. You feel his hands pull your panties down and before you can process what's happening, he lifts your leg and throws it over his hip and slips his stiff, throbbing cock into your slick folds.

His cock felt so good, angled to hit your G-spot each time he thrusts, and you snuggle as close to him as possible, trying to touch every inch of skin possible against his, whimpering.

"Feels good Cho...mhm...don't stop...need your cock..."

His teeth are clenched as he keeps up his rhythm, and soon, you cum again, crying out weakly as he too, with a guttural groan, lets himself orgasm, cock twitching inside you as he spills himself deep into your womb. He doesn't pull out, instead pulls you against him, stroking your back and kissing your forehead tenderly.

"How was that?" he murmurs against your hair. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah." You let out a breath. "Much better."

banners by @/ thecutestgrotto

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #jjk x reader smut #choso smut #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x reader #ncs #ncs scribbles #ask box

[archangeldyke-all]

Hiii this is my first ever ask so I'm kinda nervous!! Would you be willing to do a sevika x submissive masc reader? I don't really see any fics with her and a masc reader especially a bottom reader.

I absolutely love your writing, It's amazing!!! 🫶

sure! i'm going to combine it with this other delicious smutty ask i got too:

Sevika breaking the headboard with her hand (flesh or mech, which ever you prefer) while she’s tribbing reader? I think the lack of season 2 is messing with my brain

men and minors dni

it's no secret that sevika finds you irresistible. almost everything you do manages to turn her on at least a little bit, and she's always sure to let you know when she wants you.

but sevika goes feral for you when she catches you doing housework. especially if you're sweaty.

like right now. you've just finished mowing the back yard, and while it only took thirty minutes, the sun was so hot you've sweat through the white wife-pleaser you stole from sevika's side of the closet this morning.

you're chugging a glass of cold water, hunched over the sink when she finds you. you don't even hear her until it's too late and she's right behind you-- smacking your ass. you choke on your water and spin around, glaring at your wife. she grins.

"i can see your tits through that thing." sevika giggles, looking down at the now-sheer white top over your chest. you giggle.

"good thing our yard's fenced in. otherwise the neighbors woulda got a peek too."

sevika's hands are on your waist, and she's slowly pushing you backwards toward the bedroom as you talk. you don't even try to stop her-- this is the best part about cutting the grass: your reward.

"i'd kill them." sevika huffs, pouting at the thought of someone else seeing your tits. you laugh again, and the back of your legs hit the mattress. sevika shoves you down, then tackles you, hovering over you on all fours. you smile up at her.

"well, you got me where you want me. whaddya gonna do now?" you ask. sevika smirks down at you, then she ducks down and licks up a bead of sweat sliding down your throat.

you shiver, and she reaches up to run her fingers through the short-shaved sides of your head. you hum happily below her, melting into her touch. she licks your earlobe, then whispers in a low voice, "now i'm gonna fuck you 'til you're crying, baby." the breath you let out is shaky, and sevika smiles at the sound. "sound good?" she asks.

you grin and nod beneath her, and she snaps into action.

within ten seconds, sevika's got you both naked, and she's shoving you up the bed, not struggling in the slightest to manhandle you right where she wants you. it makes you dizzy.

"fuck, sevika." you moan. she giggles.

"you're so cute, babe." she laughs as she weaves her legs between yours, holding your calf against her chest as she hovers her cunt over yours. "i just gotta throw you around a bit 'n your cunt's already fuckin' soaked." she teases, smiling down at your pussy. you whine.

"just-- c'mon, sev." you grunt, wiggling your hips and trying to make contact with sevika above you. she just laughs as she watches you struggle.

"say please, baby." she whispers. you huff, glaring up at your wife.

"please, sev. don't you wanna fuck me? don't you wanna make me cum?" you whine, trying to turn the tables on her a bit. it works. sevika's eyes roll back as she grunts at your words, sinking down against you and starting a slow grind. you both whimper as she starts moving.

"fuck, baby." sevika grunts. "you don't got a fuckin' clue what you do to me, do you?" she asks.

you giggle beneath her. "well, i got a bit of a clue. your cunt's soaked." you tease. sevika grins.

"'s what you do to me. shit-- watching you work out in the yard, your arms out and sweaty--" she cuts herself off, whining. you giggle again, reaching up to pinch her nipples. her hips stutter as she whines, and you can feel her clit pulsing against you.

"shit, sev, you're really worked up, aren't you?" you ask. she whines and nods down at you.

"was watching you the whole time." she admits. you burst into giggles, most of them cut off by whines as sevika fucks you faster. "fuck-- 'm gonna cum baby." she grunts.

you gasp, reaching up to grab her hips and help her grind against you. "fuck, sev, cum on my cunt baby, i wanna feel it." you whine, grinding up into her.

sevika collapses forward, trapping your leg between your bodies, one of her hands coming up to support her weight on the headboard, the other balancing herself by your head. she keeps letting out these sweet whimpers, grunting and whining in your ear as she slides her cunt against yours.

she's fucking you so hard and fast that the mattress is creaking beneath you. you're both so wet that getting any real friction is hard-- and you watch in adoration as sevika whines and struggles to fuck you hard enough to cum. she's so close, you can tell, her eyes are shut, her lip is trapped between her teeth, and her arm above you is shaking.

you reach back and claw at her ass, and she gasps, freezing for a moment, before her eyes snap open, she glares down at you, and she starts fucking you like she's trying to break you in half.

there's smacking kissing sounds coming from between your legs, sevika's grunting with each swivel of her hips, and you're so close to cumming you can't even make noise.

and then, "jesus fucking christ!" sevika falls apart.

her cunt soaks yours as she shivers, and you cum at the feeling of it. her hips don't falter their movements-- in fact, they speed up as she chases her high and tries to work you through yours.

the sounds of your smacking cunts and shared whimpers is suddenly interrupted by a loud CRACK! and sevika promptly falls right on top of you with a yelp.

you burst into out-of-breath laughter against sevika's stomach as she tries and fails to push herself back up on her shaky arms. "what the fuck just happened?!" you giggle.

sevika finally manages to push herself off of you, and you groan as your wet cunt is exposed to the cool air-- no longer protected by sevika's. she blinks up at the headboard, then groans.

"oh, fuck."

you tilt your head up to look behind you, and burst into laughter when you see sevika's split the wooden headboard down the middle.

"holy shit!" you laugh. "babe-- that's fucking awesome!"

sevika groans. "fuck. that's the third time!"

you can't stop laughing. you guys specifically bought the solid wood headboard so sevika wouldn't be able to snap it mid-sex. it looks like you might have to upgrade to metal. sevika huffs, trying to ignore your giggles, but eventually she smiles at the sound, laughing along with you.

"you were really worked up, huh?" you ask. sevika shrugs bashfully, and you flop over to lay on top of her, nuzzling against her neck.

"you look so fuckin' handsome bein' my perfect little housebutch." she says, shrugging. you snort against her neck.

"what's that make you, then?" you ask. she shrugs.

"i'm the butch-winner. like breadwinner, get it?" she chuckles. you snort, then smack your lips against hers.

"ten minute nap then we're showering and going to ikea for a new headboard." you mumble, shutting your eyes and nuzzling against her.

she hums. "deal."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

[captain039]

Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 4

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It feels like days of walking, what you tried to share in your pack with Lucy is now gone, water scarce, and food also scarce. Lucy's missing a boot and you're missing your bed. You feel so tired, your body like jelly, your legs numb and painful at the same time, like pins and needles hitting every inch of your skin. You've hit what looks like an old town maybe, you're not sure which one but as the alpha stops and your pip boy fuzzes at the small water gathering in an old broken metal thing you falter, smacking your lips together softly. You haven't told Lucy that you've been avoiding your meds, you couldn't chew them, couldn't swallow them without water, and you would always gag and cough them out. 

"Hm," The man says filling his canteen and drinking from it with a loud sigh, you glance to Lucy seeing her staring at him intently, or maybe the water he's drinking. She falls to her knees and you go to stop her but she cups her hands and drinks from the radiation-filled water with coughs and gags. 

"Now you're getting it" The alpha hums and you make a small noise in your throat. You can't reach your backpack with your hands tied, can't reach the medication you need to stop you from having a heat. You wonder if it will still work with this type of water. You don't have much time to think because the alpha starts coughing and wheezing and before you know it Lucy has grabbed you and ran. 

You don't find her sudden adrenaline burst the same as you run around the cars and to a dead end. You see the giant hole in the ground and the city beyond, it makes you stop and stare before Lucy's got rope around her waist and is tugged back. You turn to the man holding a lasso and tugging her closer, you charge at him with little force, but you manage to tumble to the ground. You can't do much with bound hands and the sudden position makes you so much warmer. He snarls at you as you struggle with fighting his free hand, his other under your knee. You manage to someone hug his hand to your chest and hold it there, hoping Lucy will hurry up and get free and grab his gun. The other wishes she didn't, the other wishes he'd reverse the roles and had you pinned down and tied up. Your mind's in a haze and your grip loosens significantly and he gets his hand free and quickly aims his gun and your sister. You feel like you're struggling to breathe, feeling like the sun got a meter closer and someone poured a bucket of sweat over you. Lucy yells your name but it sounds distant, like she isn't actually right there only a few meters away. Your whole body feels like it cramps up as you're thrown off left on the dirt. You whimper and curl your knees to your chest as you hear scurrying uneven steps and Lucy is at your side. 

"I couldn't take the meds" You feel like there's sand pouring from your eyes as you see her shocked face. 

"It's ok, It's ok, we can figure this out" She whispers gently lifting your top half to lean against her. 

"Fuck sake, get her up and Vaultie and move!" The end of his words break off into an inhuman snarl and coughs rack his body again. 

"Come on, there might be help inside" Lucy whispers. 

It's a struggle to get you on your feet, an even more struggle to get you to whatever place the alpha was going to. He hits the terminal a buzzing sound coming from it before he speaks. 

"Transaction" He says. 

"How can I help?" A male voice answers, a little too happy for the wastelands. 

"Sixty vials in exchange for two females mint condition" The alpha replies. 

"Physical condition must be examined in person, send them in!" Answers the voice. You're too out of it to know what's really going on, you desperately miss your bed even if it was a hospital one, and you need pillows, blankets anything. You whine and Lucy mutters something to you before you move inside. Once in, it feels cooler, and fresher even, on your body before Lucy gasps and jolts. 

"What the fudge"

"Fudge? There's no fudge here, just your friendly robot Snip-Snip mark 4" You frown looking at the robot in front of you.

"And you appear to be women, come through" The robot doesn't give you a chance to speak as you're led through the building and into a room.

"Have a seat on that gurney there" The robot points and Lucy helps you onto the gurney.

"Now it appears you are distressed somehow, how can I help?" he asks. 

"My sister, she's in heat, she hasn't been able to take her medication, do you have any repellents?" Lucy speaks for you as you sag against her. You want to move though, want to be back outside with the alpha, you want to take his shirt off and feel his skin against yours.

"I say what a predicament, let's see here" He turns and fumbles through drawers. 

"I was worried this was a sex slave place" Lucy chuckles lightly and the robot snaps around. 

"What a disgusting thought! No!, I'm simply going to harvest your organs" His words make you both freeze before something is injected into your stomach. 

You awake groggily and to someone shaking you, you open your eyes slowly and focus on Lucy. 

"Thank goodness, you just stay here ok, I'm going to deal with this and I'll be back ok?" She smiles softly and you frown going to speak but she rushes off making you groan. You glance around the room, an old storage room by the looks of it, now with surgical supplies instead. Your memory buzzes back to what happened with the robot and you sit up slowly. You look at the other gurney next to you and sigh a bit. Your body still feels hot and heavy and a nagging keeps scratching your brain as you slowly stand up. You ignore the shots outside, ignore everything, you snatch the two foam tops from the gurneys and lay them in the cleanest corner, you find some old sheets for the gurneys in one of the cupboards and lay them down, folding one as a makeshift pillow. You don't know where your backpack is so you can't use that blanket either. With what you have, which is very little you manage to make a bed well in this case a nest as the teacher called it. She was very brief in explaining what happened if you ever had a heat, there were always medical supplies to avoid all this. You sit on the foam before falling onto your side and sighing, you struggle with your jumpsuit, pushing it off so you only have your white singlet on. The door opens and you jolt sitting up, but relaxing as you see Lucy, she has a grim look on her face, blood on her face and chest, gun in her hand. 

"We need to go," She says simply, too simply too emotionless. 

"Lucy?" You question and her face falters and breaks as she forces a smile. 

"We can find Dad, we can go home soon" She coos and you're not sure if she's telling you or herself. 

"Lucy I can't" You mumble and she freezes.

"I'm going into heat I will slow you down and attract unwanted attention, we can connect our pip boy trackers-" You gulp a bit trying to control the emotions that bubble up. 

"I just need some food, water maybe, maybe if I take my meds now it won't be so bad" The truth is you don't want to go on, you're tired and need a break, and your body won't move from this spot you've claimed.

"Ok, I'll get you supplies" She whispers tears in her eyes as she walks out the door. 

She gathers supplies, she gets you food and water, alcohol too, she fills up a bag for herself also before sitting with you for a little bit before she says goodbye and she's gone, you watch her move on your pip boy before you lay back with a sigh. You barricade the door on shaky legs and make sure there is no other way anyone can get in. It's a stupid idea really, staying here and waiting out your heat, who knows if you'll even join up with her again? 

You're in and out of sleep, the heat becomes worse, your body sweats, slick coats between your thighs and your breathing is heavy. Caught between fevered dreams and reality till you hear footsteps. You tense up, hoping they can't get it, you made a pretty firm blockade.

"Omega?" You shudder and sag at the sound of the alpha you were travelling with, well forced to travel with. He'd been cruel though, more than once and you feel tears in your eyes like sand again. 

"Your sister left you?" He asks and he sounds pissed and you scoff quietly. 

"I made her leave" You call out trying not to sound like you're crying or showing any emotion. You haven't spoken much with the stranger, hell you don't know if he even has a name besides what the knight called him 'ghoul'. 

"I'll slow her down, she can find Dad and come back and we'll go home" A small sob leaves your lips, for some reason it isn't the truth. You hear him hum outside the door before he shuffles a bit before he lets out a big sigh. "I'd invite you to the party" He takes a sharp a breath before sighing. 

"Don't think that's your forte though darlin" he finishes and you're frowning, what party? There's no cake, no people out there as far as you know. 

"Don't overthink it" He chuckles and you feel yourself grow warmer that he knew you were. It's quiet for some time and you feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, you've thrown your vault suit on the other side of the room and ate whatever dried fruit Lucy had found. 

"You awake in there omega?" You hear quietly. 

"It's dark out now, best be getting some sleep" He mutters, almost too soft for you to hear. 

"Why're you being nice?" You ask before you can think and you hear him chuckle. He doesn't answer though and it makes you frown harder before you give up on anticipation and fall asleep once more.

Next part ->

#x reader #aob #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #lucy maclean

[persephoneprice]

Nero & Persephone Price- Relationship Thoughts

Elaborating on my last post: I find myself going back and forth regarding my thoughts on Persephone’s relationship with her father, Nero. On one hand, I can see them having a very strained relationship with her resenting him for the leg incident (amongst other things). On the other, I have this idea that perhaps she feels almost…indebted to him in a way?

Here are my ideas of Persephone’s life. I have no basis for any of it and I just made all of it up! If anyone actually takes time to read this then congrats you are my favorite person!

On The Idea of Resentment:

- Persephone grows up knowing that her father purposefully fed her human meat and struggles to cope with the guilt of what she ate.

- Persephone’s mother passes away due to malnutrition before the cannibalism thing. In this scenario, perhaps a part of Persephone also resents that Nero didn’t resort to cannibalism sooner in order to save her mother?

- On top of the cannibalism thing, Nero is also critical of Persephone. Always reminding her to act like a lady and to present herself well in public. It’s very important to him that she marries well and it’s something he constantly reminds her as she ages.

- I imagine this isn’t actually a well-known thing in the Capitol (Coriolanus only knows because he saw it happen). Nero drills it into Persephone to never, ever repeat it to anyone- which only deepens her shame.

- It also depends her resentment. I imagine Nero to harbor a lot of guilt regarding his wife’s passing and makes it a point to never allow it to be brought up. (I also have a HC that Nero doesn’t allow pictures of his late wife to be displayed, either.)

- So now Persephone can’t speak about her feelings outside of her house or inside. She is completely alone in coping with her trauma and it causes even more tension in the Price household.

On The Idea of Empathy:

- Persephone still grows up knowing about the cannibalism thing but doesn’t hold it against Nero. She still feels the shame and guilt but also has a level of empathy for her father’s situation.

- She understands that he just lost his wife and was in danger of losing his only child, wouldn’t that drive any man to extreme length? Besides, it’s not like he killed the maid himself.

- Part of Persephone feels almost indebted to her father for his sacrifice. He didn’t kill the maid, but he is the one who went out and found her. He is the one who had to carve up human meat to feed his daughter.

- Persephone feels like it’s important to be a good daughter and support her father’s emotions because of what he risked to save her life.

- She’s more aware of her father’s feelings and guilt regarding the situation because of this so she’s more understanding of why he can’t bring himself to talk about it or her mother.

- But because their relationship is less tense, Persephone feels safer opening up to one or two of her closest friends about everything. This way, she’s not completely alone in coping.

—

Either way, I think the situation is basically the same. The real difference is how Persephone reacts to it. I just can’t decide if I imagine her to be more resentful or empathic…but I’m leaning towards empathic.

If anyone actually made it this far (I love you), please feel free to share your thoughts!! Seriously, I’m desperate for Price content. Tell me any headcanons you have about her or her relationship with her father.

#persephone price #nero price #tbosas #idk i just be rambling because i love her #also when writing this i had another idea…what if the maid incident wasn’t the only time

[brainrawt]

Layla 6x08 - my reaction

I am so happy to see Layla in therapy, and appreciative that she got such consideration in an episode about Billy giving letters to the other kids. 

I love that we’re asking questions! I love questioning what we watch, dissecting it, I love exploring character dynamics and relationships, and we have so many in this show. I love talking about my favourite couple clearly, so I love them talking about it too. We missed some conversations surrounding their engagement given it was a surprise proposal and then there was a time-jump to them just getting on with it, I'm pleased to address it now. I mentioned this in my 5x20 posts that I wanted to hear from them about their engagement, and honestly a lot of the doubts I had back then have kind of been relinquished now.

“Why did you propose to me?” So earnest, so vulnerable. Layla is trying to make sense of everything and she’s building ground up. “Do you love me more than you loved her [...]” We know so much about how Layla struggles to put her trust in others and accept their love and she did watch Jordan be in love and fail at marriage once on top of all the other relationships they've seen and been in, she needs to KNOW why this will be different (I asked for exactly this!). Not just want it to be, think it will be, but KNOW it will be successful. The whole conversation, Jordan was so tense and scared of what she might say, he’s scared by her questions because the answers, “Because I love you, obviously” “Layla I fell in love with YOU”, "We take care of each other", are very obvious and clear to him, but not to her. Depression can cloud your perspective and thinking. Asking the questions is so active, not passive, not avoidant, just such an effort on her part and so much progress in my opinion.

We’re REALLY sitting right up in there with her in this therapy session, exploring her struggles thoroughly and step by step. We’re not getting a snippet or a reference to it, we’re getting all of it, what a privilege. She’s so vulnerable in this space. Layla goes around as this mini grown-up, running businesses and handling herself, but it’s not true. She really is just that little girl, this flashback brought back that depth to her. A scene of her discussing her mum in therapy? Come on. SOO head-on, SOO true, so so honest and deep and so fucking good. What we’re learning about Layla, it’s new and different but all makes sense and adds to her and reveals what she carries at all times. She lost her mum, but she inherited her depression, and that journey unfolded after her death so only had memories to reconcile it all with. “What if I don't want to remember?” She is stripping all defences. As for the memory itself…

TRUE CINEMA!!!!!!!!!!!! BEST SCENE EVER ???! SO GOOD SO DEEP and genuinely so profound. I was holding my breath throughout the scene, the way Greta portrayed the aching sadness was phenomenal. I saw Jordan and thought it was just a parallel to their present. When the camera pans to Layla, I’ll actually never forget it, I jumped. In this one scene, we’re seeing Layla past AND future. We’re seeing her true memory AND her own fears. She is present in the one scene in TWO pov’s, she is the baby girl AND she is the mother. A masterpiece. How much is she in control right now? Is she able to manipulate the memory at all? How much is Layla and how much is Monica? How she breaks when she says “Not for her…” makes me question. Before she even understood what depression means, Layla has felt like she couldn’t keep her mum alive, and has carried that all this time. The dad says “Layla needs you.” Yes childhood Layla needed her mum, current Layla needs future Layla to show she can get up, future Layla’s daughter needs her, current Layla still needs her mum! It’s grief and anxiety and so many other things. I am just in shock watching this, I never expected them to reach so deep inside of her, she's baring her whole soul to us! And obviously I’m giggling a bit at seeing Jordayla with a daughter hehe. Truly a standout scene to me, the best I can recall seasons and seasons.

She has clarity, she has selfdom and reflections and convictions; you look at me like that, you are not my dad. The convictions are real; you’ve seen all of me, we’ll be okay, I’m not my mum. She knows, I don’t want to be like my parents, I want to marry you, I need time. She has asked all the questions and done the digging and building and they have led her back, to here, to Jordan. Such clear communication in so many words, not only apologies and reassurances but laid out feelings and thoughts! I've been looking forward to this. 

The way Jordan says “I sprung the proposal on you” is unshakeable. He’d take back the happiest moment of his life to save her any pain. “The thought of marrying me made you (that) unhappy?”, “You don't want to marry me.” Him saying the hard words, it’s part of the out. He’s letting her off from having to say it. He’ll even break his heart himself to spare her that much! A minute ago he was joking about should he be worried that she has all those breakup phrases, and a minute later he is in all seriousness offering to break their engagement, for her. He'll give her any length of time, he’ll let her go entirely. 

The episode has left me feeling a little insane. Time to digest it a bit more slowly and I’ll probably be back with more to say haha. 

#all american #layla keating #jordayla

[lorlita]

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

☒　　　　🏠　　　　∿　　　　⁺

#lorlita #kim lip icons #kim lip moodboard #loona moodboard #loona icons #aesthetic #aesthetic moodboard #kpop aesthetic #kpop #aesthetic headers #moodboard #kpop gg #simple locs #pink moodboard #pink #kpop moodboard #i was struggling on this i only like the top part #loona layouts #kim lip gifs #kim lip headers #kpop icons #icons #weirdcore idk

[seagull-scribbles]

Taxidermy fingerprints, taxonomies our differences

[Part 2 here]

#TMNT #tmnt 2012 #casey jones 2012 #raphael hamato #raph 2012 #this is all platonic but #rasey #because I do ship them and I want the shippers to precieve me #played around with pens and colours and brushes and stuff #I have a lot going on in my head and in life and I just needed to get something out #messy and quick but effective #and I need to learn to not be such a perfectionist on here #also hands are the only part of the turtles I feel I don’t struggle with an ungodly amount #I cba painting Casey’s nails apologies #or making Raphs kind of yellow but they’re my headcanons #oh also pride month is tomorrow so #again this is platonic #but idm ralh and Casey being on the top of my blog for the ocassion until I can fix it UwU #oh also I did start the Leo the other week I’ll do that one properly #AND HELLO IF YOUVE GKT TO HERE AND YOU LIKE RASEY I THINK YOU SHOULD HMU #also of there is one of these you guys like and want me to use in a propper piece let me know cause i will

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinking about puppet!Home. also thinking about that tidbit saying that Wally had to learn how to be gentle first as to not break things. combining both for maximum effect

#home: *struggling with suddenly having a body* #wally: FINALLY! THE STUDENT HAS BECOME THE TEACHER! THIS IS MY MOMENT! #i just think he'd really enjoy being the one Informing #hed be so proud of himself huh... #preening after telling home all about how to be a Person and then he turns around and asks barnaby what cheese is #hes doing his best. #and like... i dont think home has nearly as much to learn? #its mostly based in the physical aspect of existence #idk for some reason i see him as kind of the neighborhoods father figure?? #a very eccentric father figure. father/brother/guardian figure #but anyway mostly wallys 'teachings' has to do with like... how to control his strength. how to keep his balance. how to Do Things #once homes got it he is On Top Of Things #scribble salad #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #hm. am i about to make a little doc for the puppet!home that only exists in my head and in my lil scribbles #Yes! i Am! #boutta jot down his personality and relationships and blah blah blah #also: part (insert number here) of me being Entirely Unable To Draw Wally Consistently #i drew these wallys right after each other. back to back. #it looks like two entirely different styles lmfao

[ectonurites]

ZACH TAYLOR & DARYL HARPER | HOLY GHOST BY MODERN BASEBALL

#my zach & mobo agenda strikes again #super dark times #zach taylor #daryl harper #charlie and josh are there briefly but. this is largely abt The Dream #sam edits #tw blood #tw stabbing #or well. pulling the blade out after a stabbing #also to ramble a sec bc i think using the ‘third wish has always been three more’ bit with the flashbacks may be confusing #using ‘a third wish to wish for three more’ feels like a plea for more chances to change things—smthn about #regretting the choices you made and wanting the opportunity to make better choices or #fix the previous ones. like… it feels like a line about hindsight/regret/wasted opportunity & chances #which to then apply that to Zach here—that is certainly the sort of stuff plauging his #subconscious in relation to how he handled the Daryl situation. even though awake!Zach is #obviously struggling to deal with The Guilt/the role he played in things (see: my post about #’blood on hands’ from the other night) his dream here literally SHOWS that this situation #with Daryl is crushing him (see: Daryl sitting on top of him) and a part of him KNOWS that #he is partially at fault (see: the copious blood all over him but the FOCUS on it on his hands) #+ the idea im getting at is: he not only wishes things could’ve gone differently but that HE could’ve DONE things differently

[cureblogging]

Gonna say something potentially controversial:

I think Heartcatch suffers from the Up phenomenon in that people remember it as an excellent, if not flawless masterpiece when it actually has One (1) excellent, if not flawless moment in the beginning and is otherwise nothing special.

#pretty cure #babs' musings #precure: heartcatch #i remember sitting there watching 4 episodes at a time and asking myself “so when does it get as Great as people say” #i admire how different it is in tone and style to other seasons. it really stands out in that regard! #but that doesn't make it automatically better (or worse) than other seasons #it was funnier. #but the story? really underwhelming imo #the only notable part about the plot was the very first scene that set the intrigue and mystery of Yuri's character #but what they deliver on that front was extremely disappointing for me #and all the other characters get pretty mid arcs as well #Tsubomi has anxiety about not being good at anything. nothing comes of that besides one or two insults from the villains. #Itsuki has to crossdress in order to continue the family business because her brother has vague illness #that's never confronted in any satisfying way. it just sorta fades away once she decides she likes being a girl #Erika's insecurity regarding her sister is honestly the most engaging of these arcs and that's because I have a little sister #I suppose I set my expectations too high for that season. but people call it The Best Precure Season when it's not even in my top 3 so far #and that's kinda concerning for me going forward #suite is also proving to be a huge bore for me. extremely artificial season going through the motions of the franchise #Hummy... save me. Hummy. Save me Hummy #I really don't want to struggle through 13 more unremarkable seasons in the hopes of recapturing the magic of Futari Wa and Fresh #argh. i hate not liking things #sorry for the rant in the tags.

[miodiodavinci]

oughgh

#can i be real for a second #i am completely overwhelmed and very much drowning #and it is only Week 5 of the semester #and Week 1 of my internship program #i have a very important stressful group project due in mid october that i am Struggling to so much as get in contact with people for #like. these people won't even confirm whether or not we're in the group and Will Not Respond whenever i ask them to confirm our topic #but the second i'm like 'okay i'll just group with the one person who's communicating with me' they respond like 'omg i missed ur message!! #'sorry lmao yeah we can work together!!!!' (proceeds to complete the sign up survey for two people only) #on top of that i Also have part one of the very important licensing exam due the same day #which i am losing my mind trying to figure out #and a few days later i have Another group project due with the exact same people #who still!!! will not respond!!!!! #and this isn't even getting into the fact that i have a Very Big Project that important people are depending on me on #that i haven't been able to make an inch of real progress on since this semester started #i am drowning and i want to scream

[qumiiiquinnquin]

ill never be good enough at anything

#vent #events of today only proved it #im genuinely so close to giving up completely #i dont feel happy when I draw because I know its not good enough and im ashamed when others see it because I know they think the same thing #I dont feel satisfied or accomplished when finishing schoolwork because I know others will have done it better and responded better and im #the stupidest person of the entire class. some things I just dont understand but I know everyone else or lots of others did #i cant do anything right. i cant socialize correctly. i cant remember to do anything. i cant keep any stable relationships #i know if i get a job they'll ly me off or fire me within days max weeks. i dont expect to be able to hold down a job for long #i dont have the skills necessary to become what I want to be which is a meteorologist. i struggle in math and that career is a lot of math #i actually want to be an artist too but ill die a lonely death. i cant even do this class. and artists are not paid enough to survive #hell what I do right now with art in my spare time is much worse than others. a mouse and microsoft paint. both arent good enough #i cant not compare myself to others. i know that they're all better than me. and im around these people every day and see it on social medi #i really want to put my art in our shredder and permanently delete files. i want to drop out. i dont know what to do with myself because i #know that im not good enough for anything except lay in bed like the depressed piece of shit i am and end up getting kicked out #i thought about just leaving class today and throwing myself down the stairwell from the top floor i was already on #just over the barrier thats right next to the first flight of stairs that prevents people from falling off the stairs from a height #the one you can look down and see the following flight of stairs. just throw myself down from that and hurt myself significantly. #ive been thinking about jumping again. from a new part of campus thats higher than where i initially wanted to fall from #if not those then sl!t my wrist or run into traffic #i just need to d!e. There's no room for someone as worthless as me #i cried when I came home today because im just done. i cant carry on and itd be better if i didnt. itd be preferred.