#Memory Pheromones

[fogaminghub]

🐜✨ New Blog Alert! 🌟 Curious about the "Watch The Memory Pheromone Left By Your Sisters" mission in Empire of the Ants? Our detailed guide breaks down everything you need to know about memory pheromones and how to navigate your ant colony like a pro! Check it out and level up your gameplay today! 

[orangejuice707]

Feminine urge this , masculine urge that when am I gonna get the urge to not download another otome game

[not-poignant]

Hi! I've spent this whole week binge-reading all of the Underline the Rainbow series and I'm obsessed. Thank You for creating this incredible world!

Sorry if these are questions you've answered before somewhere but I'm really curious about female Omegas and Alphas, especially in relation to Hillview's sister-site that was mentioned briefly.

Firstly, seeing as knotting and penetration are a big part of how Omegas manage heats, does this mean that female Alphas aren't able to consummate heats effectively? (If so, I imagine this would be a big source of insecurity for female Alphas who are attracted to Omegas!) Are female Alphas still able to create claim bonds?

I was also wondering what the reasoning is between having the different sites be segregated by primary sex in this way. Why was the decision made to have a separate sister-site specifically for female Omegas instead of having Hillview accept all Omegas regardless of primary sex?

Hallooooo!

I'm so so glad you're enjoying the series! :D

So, when it comes to women alphas and alphas who have uteruses, I am actually undecided on if they also have pseudococks or not at this point, but we do know from the worldbuilding that we absolutely don't need knotting or penetration to actually solve a heat.

The thing that matters most is an alpha's pheromones - and this is actually seen literally within Underline the Black, when Gary's closeness, his saliva, his pheromones, are the thing that resolves Efnisien's agonising, corrupted heat. So we've seen 'don't need knotting or penetration to solve a heat' actually play out within the story.

Temsen makes it very clear that if Gary had provided solid closeness, touch, and intervention earlier, Efnisien would never have needed to go through so much pain.

We also see in Underline the Blue that where Nate assumes he'll need a lot more penetration and knotting to get through his heat, Janusz demonstrates that a lot of the time he just needs closeness and pheromones, towards the end getting Nate to scent him, which calms him down better than a knot and actually finishes his heat much faster. So while the knotting in that circumstance absolutely helped, it was the pheromones that soothed and ended the heat the fastest.

In fact Nate will have to unlearn the idea that 'lots of penetrative sex and knotting' is what solves a heat, this is what Christian brainwashed him to believe. Janusz is already demonstrating that closeness, genuine intimacy, trust and safety, and the right pheromones, go a really long way to making heats pass as smoothly as possible. (The semen helps a lot, but that can be ingested, and applies in other ways, and likewise, alpha women secretions can be the same).

I'm certain that when it comes to most f/f pairings etc. the same thing applies regardless of what's going on between their legs (it is common in many omegaverse stories for women alphas to also have cocks or pseudococks and knots / pseudoknots. Since this isn't relevant at all for me in Underline I've never really sat down and kind of made it official either way, but we do know that all alphas can resolve a heat for an omega without knotting/penetration. I'm pretty certain women alphas / alphas with uteruses have zero insecurities re: bonding with omegas, or helping them through their heats. They'd have more insecurity over the fact that it's extremely hard for them to get pregnant.

In fact, if resolving a heat was as easy as knotting/penetration and had nothing to do with pheromones, omegas could resolve their own heats without needing alphas at all, and they could just use sex toys and knotting dildos, and this world doesn't work that way. Though other omegaverse worlds do.)

Are female Alphas still able to create claim bonds?

Women alphas and alphas with uteruses have literally no reason why they couldn't! It has nothing to do with genitalia and everything to do with alpha pheromones, just being alphas means they have the right pheromones to create claim bonds.

I was also wondering what the reasoning is between having the different sites be segregated by primary sex in this way.

In a word: Pregnancy.

Alphas and omegas are hyperfertile with one another. It's pregnancy. The risk is just too high. There are no ORFs on the planet - both the decent ones and the dystopian ones, that allow for mixed sex pairings because the pregnancy risk is just too high. Condoms aren't built to handle like...the semen load / repeated knotting etc. and have an extremely high fail rate and there's no contraception that works reliably for omegas in general (this is actually also why many alpha/omega pairings are same sex in general).

But yeah it's not very professional to send your partner to a rehabilitation facility and then have them get repeatedly pregnant while there, so instead all ORFs deal with the pregnancy risk this way instead, and that way there's absolutely zero risk of this happening. This is also why all the other attending staff at Hillview who are alphas are also male (like Temsen and Dr Gary), to completely erase the risk. (They don't worry about betas because they just...don't, lmao (that's good old beta bigotry)).

I hope that helps :D

[futurebird]

Temporal Vertigo

Scents trigger the most powerful memories. Like a time machine, fragrance exposes the past— a moment seemingly forgotten: suddenly present, vivid, detailed. 
Curiously, scent-uncovered memories aren’t always important or intense events, but rather one may suddenly recall a past liminal state, a vanished sense of ordinary existence, that through self-transformation, growth and aging has become distant and extraordinary.

New York City smells. The city smells like river water, garbage, the hint of expensive perfumes, carbon, hydrant water, bakeries, cigarettes, coffee— but who knows what unlikely combination of these elements performed the feat of time travel on my mind? Moments ago I was in another NYC on younger legs hauling my suitcase across town in the first days my adult life ready to live on my own.

It’s not just the city that I remembered but that other person I once was.

Maybe it was a bloom of algae in the tidal estuary carried on the rain wet wind, or perhaps it was the sunscreen and sweat on a passing jogger that completed the picture— that formed the final element in the password the sensory key that unlocked this capsule of my past. 
And I know it won’t work again. Even if I could bottle the idiosyncratic mix of hydrocarbons and volatiles the seal on that bubble of memory is broken and rewritten— it’s only a story now about what I think I remember.

I wonder if I can yet strive to control, to exploit this sensory ability. Can I name moment in my present with a perfume password? And, like a sommelier of time & past selves, someday uncork a fragment of the past at will? Is the vivid nature of such memories evidence that they correctly record the past? Or is it a trick of the mind, of emotion?
I smile thinking of a future me arrested, astonished by this memory of being but 40 and remembering imagining remembering future memories.

[s0fter-sin]

alpha!ghost who's always hated the sound of an omega's purr; he’s always found it patronising, manipulative, an attempt to twist his biology - twist him - into submission like he's some animal

until he hears soap purr for the first time and it's about as choppy and comforting as a machine gun. there's nothing smooth about it, nothing seductive or wily; it's broken and guttural and the most honest noise ghost's ever heard outside his own growls

he doesn't use it to coo him into complacency, doesn't try to bend him to his will or smooth over his bristles. he's never tried to distract ghost from his anger, never used his intrinsic control over him to gentle him. hell, he seems to forget he can even do it, ghost hears it so rarely. it's only a touch above his growls, subharmonic and demanding attention instead of the pretty titter of a pampered omega

ghost hears it for the first time when he’s covered in blood not his, after he slits an enemy pinning him down from navel to chin; dark blood instantly soaking him. the body’s practically cool with blood loss already when he tosses it aside and rolls to his feet to find soap stock still, staring at him with a feral gleam in his eyes

he drops his jaw with a deep inhale, rolling the scent of blood and pissed alpha pheromones in his mouth and his chest rumbles with all the subtlety of a chainsaw

it's suddenly all ghost can do to keep himself from dragging the body and dropping it at soap's feet like a courting gift of old; to carve out his heart and rich organs and present them for his approval, to hold them to his mouth and never break eye contact as he takes his first bloody bite

ghost shakes it off, strangling the chuff trying to claw out his throat, and heads for the rv point and feels absolutely nothing when soap falls into step behind him without a word; his purr that more closely mimics an alpha's rumble an echoing memory

soap's far from a meek, compliant omega and he's no conniving prince wrapping alphas around his finger either; he's just as much a protector, an aggressor, as any alpha. he's never been ashamed of his instincts; never shied away from nuzzling into price's throat, purring for his pack alpha with no regard to the uncomfortable crowd surrounding them. never hesitates to wrap gaz up and drop him in his nest when the beta reeks of stress and sickly insomnia

and he never stops himself from baring his fangs with a guttural hiss whenever another omega dares to purr at ghost

it's a threat and a warning in one; something only the most foolish omega would ignore. he knows ghost has a complex relationship with omegas, knows it isn't something so pathetic as biological prejudice. something about omegas makes his lt's scent go flat and steely, as close to distress as he thinks he can manage and it makes something dark and old rise in his chest

territorial rage broils off him, strong enough to make the omega whine and back off with their tail between their legs without even taking a step towards them. the scent is sour and pungent enough to drown out ghost's subtle distressed smell, to hide it, and it makes him snort; shaking his head to try and clear it

soap all but trots up beside him, chirping in greeting. he sneezes playfully, lets him know the rage scent wasn't for him; never for him. he replaces it with happy-friend-pack, replaces it with nitroglycerin and burning sparklers and butts his forehead against his sternum instead of crowding into his throat and purring the way he wants to

he earned his way into ghost's pack, into becoming an omega not just accepted but welcomed and he won't jeopardise his hard won progress by pushing his purr on him

he lifts his head and grins as ghost cups his nape in a faux-scruff, something offensive and borderline taboo and if he were anyone else, he'd rip his hand off with his teeth. but it's ghost and ghost does strange things, things that reassure him on a deeper level than any purr or chirp could ever hope to, so soap presses into his gentling hand and bares his teeth in the thinnest facsimile of a smile at the retreating omega

all ghost has to do is aim him in the right direction and he'd bring the omega back to him in pieces; would gift him their torn out throat so they could never purr at him again

his chest rumbles subconsciously and soap gnashes his teeth, forcing his purr back down when ghost squeezes his nape

he thumps his temple into his and a puff of air tickles his ear, the closest thing soap's ever heard to a chuff from him and he couldn't stop his purr if he tried; choppy and broken as it is

you inhale enough explosive fumes and it's bound to damage something

ghost huffs again and soap presses up to nibble appeasingly at his clothed jaw, a question and an apology in each bite

ghost just takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, shaking it with a teasing growl and soap laughs as he tackles him just for ghost to bow over his back and wrap his arms around his waist; effortlessly picking him up and tossing him away

soap stays low and growls right back, a wild smile splitting his face. ghost meets him with a sneeze and his grin grows impossibly wider

if he can't hunt for his alpha, can't purr for him with blood on his teeth, he'll happily wrestle with him instead

[crushmeeren]

heyy idk if this is where we put requests but by any chance could you do the mha boys reacting to you putting on the pheromone perfume and you smelling hella good possibly resulting in something freaky ( denki, shinsou or bakugo) or anyone is fine🙏🏾

⋆⋅ I love this idea! I did twist this a bit, it’s basically the love potion “amortentia,” from Harry Potter but as a perfume. Why the fuck it’s so hard for me to shorten things down when I write, I have no damn idea. So here, have this. (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

All characters aged up/18+. ❲ ̽ ⋆ FEM READER ̽ ⋆❳

⋆⋅ Between the ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ symbols are memories of reader and whichever character!

Thank you @pastelbakugou for helping me figure what to write for Shinsou. ( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)

⋆ ft. kaminari, shinsou, bakugou, todoroki ⋆

..⃗. master list link

The sickly sweet scent of vanilla ice cream infused with honey is what overwhelms Katsuki’s senses first when he leans in and hugs you in greeting. You squeeze him back just as affectionately and he’s in the middle of nosing at your throat when he’s hurtled back in time through his memories.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Katsuki mutters hotly. He’s trying, key word trying, to wipe the sweat covering his phone screen onto his tank top but it fails miserably, seeing as how his shirt is soaked fucking through. He’s more or less just smearing it around and he’s debating on just obliterating the useless piece of shit phone.

He curses whoever the fuck is up there and uses sheer willpower not to tear his hair out from the roots because of this scorching heat wave.

Finally, he’s able to read his latest message from you. It tells him to meet you at the ice cream stand nearby his patrol route on his next break.

Katsuki wipes the back of his forehead with a glove free hand, but it slides right across his sticky skin and then sweat drips into his other eye with a harsh sting and goddammit, he’s royally fucking pissed off now.

For your sake, he swallows his swelling rage and makes his way to you swiftly. The two of you have tried to make it a habit to meet a couple times a week when Katsuki has time during his shifts, he gets so busy that sometimes it gets hard to see each other as often as you’d like.

As always, his heart stutters when he lands a few feet from you. The tension drains from his shoulders even as he witnesses drops of sweat being flung off his jaw from the impact of landing and coloring the light gray pavement darker.

You look so, so pretty in your sundress and Katsuki’s stomach swoops when a sweet smile lights up your features. You reach out a cup of ice cream for him to try, teasing him for looking like he’s just taken a shower but he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and takes a bite of the treat. Katsuki practically moans when cool cream melts on his tongue. He feels infinitely better.

The sun beats down harshly on you both, but it brightens your eyes and the playful way you blow a coy kiss at him when you part ways leaves him with fingers crunching the empty cup and pants that fit a bit too snug. God, he’s disgustingly in love with you.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Kat?” Your concerned tone brings him back to the present. Katsuki can’t stand another minute with your clothes on and hauls you up with a rough grip to the backs of your thighs. You yelp in surprise and scramble to hold onto his shoulders as he strides towards your bedroom.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to smell this way, but you’re gonna keep your eyes on me and I’m fuckin’ you until you pass out. Understood?”

How could you ever hope to say no?

When you’re both naked and tangled in the sheets, Katsuki pushes one of your legs to your chest, curls his fingers around your throat, and pushes his forehead against yours as he stretches your tight pussy out completely with his thick cock. He stays true to his word, hand gripping your jaw and forcing your eyes to stay locked with his own ferocious stare when you grit your teeth and cum.

Then he kisses your forehead afterwards when you’re fast asleep.

Muscle memory tilts Shouto’s head to the side as he leans closer to sniff you curiously, an adorable habit that he’s never been able to break when he wants answers to something.

“What is that?”

“What is what, Sho?”

“You smell like the end of a campfire. Why?”

You raise an eyebrow and saunter closer to where he sits at his desk, his office quiet with most heroes currently out of the building. You step around the corner of his desk and hop up on the edge to sit next him, feet kicking gently.

“That’s important to you? A campfire? Huh I would’ve thought you’d smell something like soba,” you comment with a shrug, half smile tugging at your lips.

Now Shouto’s thoroughly confused.

“I don’t understand. Why would you smell of soba? Are you alright?” Shouto sounds as deadpan as usual, if not slightly concerned. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, staring at you as if he could find the answer by checking out your body. It makes you laugh.

Animatedly, you explain to him about the new “perfume,” Mina let you try. Apparently, whoever wears it prompts the object of their affections to smell whatever scent is important/attractive to them. And suddenly Shouto gets it

“Oh, I see,” he says with an understanding nod. He can narrow it down specifically as to why you smell of a campfire on a cold night.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Sho, are you sure we can’t just use your quirk to roast these marshmallows? It’s so much faster!” You protest halfheartedly, but you’re already stabbing one of the fluffy sweets with a stick, assembling a second one for Shouto.

“No. This will be more fun, I promise. I watched Touya-nii and the others do this once, it seemed as if they were very happy afterwards.” Shouto flicks his hand and fire shoots towards the pile of sticks, engulfing them until a decent fire roars.

This sobers you considerably, and Shouto sits down next to you, accepting the offering of marshmallow on a stick happily and oblivious to the depressing sentiment he just offered.

So, you roast marshmallows. You tease each other and laugh as you assemble the s’mores and then lean into Shouto’s left side to fend off the chill of the autumn night afterwards. The stars are brighter away from the city and Shouto has always enjoyed the quiet of the countryside. His heart is close to bursting from his chest every time you laugh and he blurts what’s on his mind.

“I love you.”

It comes out of nowhere and Shouto only feels nervous for a few seconds before you return his feelings. Shouto’s dragging you into the tent before you can blink.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

In hindsight, at least to Shouto, he understands exactly why you smell like a campfire. With slightly rosy cheeks and a matter of fact tone, he recounts the memory for you and he’s sure his hair’s about to catch fire from the way you’re looking at him.

Without caring to lock the door, the two of you end up reliving part of that memory.

Shouto pushes you until you’re flat on your back on his desk, sliding your pants off and making sure your ass is on the edge of it. He drops to his knees and eats your pussy until your thighs squeeze his head.

And when you beg him to fuck you, he bends you over the desk and presses his cock inside you roughly. The snaps of his hips are frantic, and when there’s a knock at the door, all Shouto does is cover your mouth with one hand and keep going until you’re seeing stars.

“Denki!”

Said blonde whips around at the muffled call of his name. Denki feels his smile aching in the apples of his cheeks as he watches you weave through the crowd of people on the dance floor to get to him. You grin in return and wave warmly, which makes his pulse run overtime.

“Baby!” Denki almost squeals, yanking you in for a crushing hug when you get close enough. “You made it! I thought you got lost,” he says teasingly against your ear and you lean back to laugh and punch him in the arm. You crowd into his space once again so he can hear you but an overpowering and delicious scent of coffee and rain pushes up Denki’s nose.

He startles, head jerking back and brows shooting up. Your expression turns questioning but Denki cuts you off before you can speak.

“Holy shit baby, you smell super good. Like, fucking amazing! What are you wearing? It makes me want to rip your clothes off,” He says enthusiastically, tangling your hands together in the process.

“Oh! It’s this new perfume. Well, technically it’s not a perfume but honestly I didn’t think it would work! I assumed it was a scam.” You give him a run down of how it’s supposed to work and he suddenly comes to the realization of why you smell like coffee and rain of all things that could be important to him.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Oww,” Denki whines, sticking his tongue out and fanning it quickly.

“Did you burn your tongue?” You bump his shoulder playfully, taking care not to spill your own coffee. “I told you it would be hot, it’s a latte Denki,” you scold him good naturedly, trying not to laugh. He pouts at you, blowing into the lid in hopes to cool it off.

“Well I didn’t expect it to be the surface temperature of the sun!” Denki protests, gingerly taking another sip and humming in contentment when he finds it’s cooled off enough to be drinkable. You laugh again, but then Denki almost runs into your back when you stop abruptly in front of the glass door exit.

“It’s raining! Shit, I didn’t bring an umbrella. How are we supposed to make it back to the station?”

Denki studies the way it’s pouring cats and dogs, before making a noise of triumph and pointing to a bench under an awning not too far away.

“We can go wait for a bus over there!”

You side eye him. “Fine, but if I spill my coffee, you’re buying me a new one.”

The two of you take off, and in true Denki fashion, he trips and spills his coffee everywhere. By the time you both make it to the awning, you’re both soaked to the bone and breathless from laughing.

“Here,” you offer Denki your coffee with a grin, water dripping from the ends of your hair.

“You don’t have to share baby, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. I love you, Denki.”

Your boyfriend short circuits.

“Dammit Denki! Those were the only two lampposts on this street, now I can’t see anything!”

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Denki blinks the memory away and spins you, pulling your back flush to his chest. His body is a long, lean line of muscle as he moves your bodies to the beat and murmurs in your ear.

“Let me take you home and show you just how well this perfume works on me, my dick is hard as a fucking rock baby,” Denki giggles, squeezing your hips when you shove your ass back into his pelvis.

The two of you abandon your friends quick enough to race home, stripping carelessly in your living room until Denki can bend you over the armrest of the couch. He guides his cock inside you unhurriedly, pushing until his pelvis is nestled snug to your ass.

A breathy moan escapes him, and then he’s fucking your pussy as if he could never get enough.

He never will.

Hitoshi’s exhausted when he gets home from work late that night. Being an underground hero is rewarding, but it certainly comes with its downfalls.

He closes the front door delicately and toes off his shoes by the door. It doesn’t take long for him to make his way down the hall and into your bedroom, a tiny half smile worming its way into his expression despite his bone aching weariness when he spots you sound asleep in bed. He pauses to stare at you for a moment.

Hitoshi then showers as fast as humanly possible before crawling under the blankets and curling an arm around your waist, tugging you close until he can nose at the back of your neck. You sigh in your sleep and smuggle closer into his embrace.

Hitoshi trails his nose down the side of your neck and he freezes once he gets to your shoulder. You smell….good. Insanely fucking good, and he can’t quite pinpoint the specific scent but it’s soft and warm and maybe even a little musky. It sends warm blood rushing south and his cock twitches with interest.

He wracks his brain and the only thing he can associate with the scent is your cat, Kiko, when she was a kitten and you first brought her home.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Hitoshi’s in the middle of playing a game when you return home that day, calling out for him to come to the living room for a second.

“Why?” He yells back. He’s just about to finish this round.

“Just come out here you dick!”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes, but is amused nonetheless by your slightly frustrated tone. He pauses his game and makes his way to where you wait, but stops in his tracks, lips parting in shock and eyes going wide when he sees what you’re holding.

You’re cradling an itty bitty, all black, fluff ball of a kitten in your arms. You grin delightedly at his shocked expression and hold her out almost as if you’re offering her to him.

“You wanted a kitten right? An all black one, like the one you had as a kid at Aizawa’s.”

Hitoshi manages to close his mouth and nod, cautiously reaching out to take the small creature and cradle her to his chest.

He…can’t believe you remembered. You remembered how much his cat had meant to him and went out of your way to find this kitten.

“Thank you,” he says softly, petting the purring kitten’s head with one finger. You step closer and do the same, scratching under her chin until she meows.

“What should we name her?”

“Kiko,” Hitoshi responds with no hesitation, glancing at you for approval and you smile back at him.

“I love it.”

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Hitoshi blinks back to the present, the fond memory lingering at the edges of his mind. He remembers how his heart squeezed against his rib cage in the best kind of way that day and how he knew then he wanted to marry you.

“Baby,” Hitoshi whispers lowly as he kisses your cheek. You stir enough to lazily flip over and hum in question. “I love you, so much.”

“Mm, love you too Hitoshi,” you mumble, sleepy rasp coloring your voice.

Hitoshi bends down to kiss you sweetly, encouraging you to throw a leg over his hips and straddle his waist. He settles you on top of him and wiggles a hand between you to shove his briefs down, cock stiff since he first smelled you, and slides your panties to the side.

Your limbs are still laced and heavy with sleep when Hitoshi helps you sink down on his cock. You melt into his chest, face buried in his throat and arms locked around his neck.

He bends his knees and grips your ass to help you sensually ride him, rocking up into you at a leisurely pace until the warmth finally bubbles over the edge and you cum with a shiver and he follows right behind you.

When he asks you about it the next day, it all clicks into place when you give him the watered down version of how the “perfume” works.

He hums noncommittally before asking you to wear it again.

[pebblegalaxy]

The Amazing Power of the Sense of Smell: Exploring its Impact on Memory, Emotions, Health, and Relationships

Introduction: The sense of smell, or olfaction, is one of the most powerful and complex senses that humans possess. It is responsible for our ability to detect and distinguish a vast range of scents and odors, and is intimately tied to our memories, emotions, and overall health and well-being. Despite its importance, however, the sense of smell is often overlooked or undervalued in comparison to…

[amirasainz]

Baby!Sainz!Sister Masterlist💋❤

started: 19.04.24

last updated: 31.10.24

Baby!Sainz!Sister (Amira Sainz) Introduction

Baby!Sainz introduction

Amira Sainzx Driver (x WAGs)

Chaos before her arrival

The killer Fruit 🍓🍓

The avengers of Formula 1

The unexpectet red flag

Baby! Sainz as F1 driver

The Met Gala

The After Party

Rapunzel Style

The Aftermath

Fight club

Reasons

Prince Charming

Mother knows best

The other woman

Baby!Sainz relationships

The broken arm

¡Feliz cumpleaños!

The Szoboszlai case

Happy House

Flu-Season

Keeping up with the Kardashians

SKIMS for everyone

Her own kind of wisdom

Childhood memories

A mothers helping hand

Mother knows best

Bondi Rescue

I like you, have a cupcake 🧁

Mango Dragon Fruit Refresher

20-Step plan

The secret boyfriend

Trouble in paradise

Busy Girl

She's dancing like a stripper

Just a Baby

Safe space

Amira Sainz x Drivers (specific)

Charles Leclerc

The pregnancy

The pregnancy (Part 2)

The better girlfriend

The better girlfriend (Part 2)

Max Verstappen

Sunset Serenade

Lando Norris

The move

Welcome to the familia Sainz

Three times when

Three times when.....Part 2

The winner takes it all

Spill your guts

Rain

The pheromone perfume

Trouble in paradise

Oscar Piastri

She's dancing like a stripper

Daniel Ricciardo

La princesa ansiosa

Lewis Hamilton

The Met Gala

The After Party

George Russell

You're enough

Alexander Albon

Lance Stroll

On Vogue

Pierre Gasly

Pierre as...

Pierre as boyfriend

Hiding the princess

Whipped Cream

Sitting in the middle

The Perfect Shot

[mamayan]

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)

Part 1 (Here)

cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding

A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️

“Freak!”

“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”

“Jinx.”

“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”

You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.

Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.

Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.

“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.

Your fault.

“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.

You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.

So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.

Would Ava have killed her too?

You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.

You didn’t feel like you were home though.

“Look at me.”

He’s impossible to ignore.

“I will force you if I must.”

You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.

“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.

“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.

“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”

His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.

You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.

“I thought I loved a human once.”

You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.

“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.

He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.

He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.

“What was it?”

“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”

He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.

“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.

Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.

“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”

He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.

You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.

You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.

“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.

“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.

“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.

“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.

“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”

“Your potion not your presence.”

Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.

“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.

She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.

Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.

“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”

“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”

“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.

The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.

“Drink for me, petal.”

You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.

He would rather just take you by force.

This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?

You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.

You eye the delicate glass cup warily.

His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.

You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.

“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.

He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.

“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”

“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”

For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.

“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”

“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.

“For being so foolish.”

You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.

“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.

“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.

“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”

You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.

“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.

He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.

“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.

You speak with what little focus you have left…

“My sister…loved me.”

His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Always…she loved me.”

He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”

“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”

He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.

“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”

“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”

He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.

“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.

“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.

He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.

“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.

You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.

He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.

“Oh gods…!”

He’s trying to kill you. He must be.

You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.

“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.

His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.

He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.

He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.

“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.

“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.

“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.

“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.

“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.

“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.

You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.

“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.

“Let me rest…”

“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.

“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.

Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.

“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”

“Watch your tone and words witch,”

“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”

They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.

“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.

“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.

The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.

As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.

She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.

They’re the only fae that can lie after all.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[tinydefector]

I was just interested if you were a suckered for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope as I am. In the sense where fabrics and a abundance of organic flora was considered more common for higher class cybertronains but that even then it was pretty scarce. Imagine a bot or con after getting over their fears or mild disgust of the squishness of humans so to speak the next few things they notice is how many types of hair there are. How many styles and how many different ways to dye said hair. It drives them nuts the feel such softer fibers all together to make a more denser form. Curled,staight,wavy it all catches their optics. Painted nails almost similar to paint for their frames. Tattoos so intriguing. A human willingly damaging their surface that is more fragile than their metallic frames. It's a living scar. And they can't help but slowly come to love it to when they see how much their human complain does. But fabric? God they almost get drunk off of it. When they get a hug they shiver at the smooth article that brushes on their frame. The variety. So many styles and colors. So many meaning behind patterns and techniques. They can't help but almost grow jealous hearing how far back a simple stich can come from in human history. Humanity dressing itself in plush silks and flimsy polyester but it's all gold compared to what the cybertronains have come to crave. Imagine them having made themselves smaller so they could be inside your living space and they can't help but notice all the fabrics. All the plush surfaces. Their in heaven fully convinced they're going to meet the great primes. And if you had a scented burning candle? Sweet or citrus they can't help but want to inhale deeply to capture the scent. Perfumes? God their drunk whenever a human walks into a enclosed space because all mechs and femmes are fighting themselves to not snatch you up and keep you. If you use scented body wash or scented lotion then can practically taste it on your skin if you are near or hug them. They crave it when it's late at night and they've got you sobbing and thighs shaking as they kiss and lap at your scented thighs. And if theirs multiple humans in a space? That almost has a bot slurring their words as iff they just had the best energon. Just some thoughts haha I'm very sorry it's so long. I'm just a suckered for all these headcanons and just how while they may be disgusted and have hatred for humanity some fo them can't help but swoon for so many qualitys of their human companions that are nothing like their skin. So soft and complaint and so very warm at heart.

So I do have some fics on this stuff one is

Ratchet x reader. Involving perfumes effecting cybertronians like a sex potion or sex pollen.

Then I have

Starscream x reader. Involving the infamous dress and him testing out different outfits on his partner.

This small collection of bots reacting to nipple piercings (was like my first fic I ever wrote here)

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I am quite a sucker for the clothing and fabric and perfume trope. I really enjoy writing cybertronians who adore seeing their partner drapped in shimmering fabrics. Becuase to the human its could just be a satin sheet, but to the cybertronian it is luxury, it showcases so much about you and every chance they get they love getting to just feel or touch the fabrics.

Imagine: your cybertronian is sat on theirs berth which is a mix of almost foam matting(yoga mat/ expanding foam) They don't lay on just metal but it's not particularly comfortable for their human. So one day, they introduced them to memory foam, and its like the bots world has opened up. It becomes a soft, comfortable recharge. But as you start bringing sheets, blankets, and your pillows, it makes the bots feel as if they are falling in love. They love it when you drape the soft fabric over them and make yourself almost a next on their chassis with the soft bedding. To they it feels like a luxury that you are pampering them even if it's just to make yourself more comfortable. It's the fact you leave them in their suite on their berth take makes their spark clench in delight knowing you'll be coming back.

I also tend to write cybertronains have alot more nasal sensors and detectors to the point they can break down the partials to annalise them. The smell of fresh lining is something that effects them almost like catnip with a cat. They will roll around in the fabric optics wide. Engines roaring in delight. As their joints squeak and clank against the walls.

I also love writing that Fabric was something that only the Highest of society had on cybertron, but mainly due to have small the fibers are it is extremely hard for cybertronains to replicate the material, so it fetched for high prices when Imported from organic planets. If you were of the lower classes, you would be lucky if you had a tarp or some sort of soft plastic as it was also still very sort after. So you can imagine how the cybertronains reacted once on earth, even while undercover. Fabric is such a huge part of human culture that cybertronians, when they find even just a pretty scrap of Fabric, keep it as a token. As if to say "frag you" to the universe.

But I can also see a human finding the stash of Fabric cut off's and offering to sew them all together in an almost patchwork like blanket for their bot and you can bet your ass you will have that cybertronian on thier knees worshipping you for it.

______

"Hey, we have hail forecasted," their voice calls out to the vehicle parked in the driveway. The cybertronian is rather quiet as they register what was said to them. "It isn't acid rain, so it won't be anything too bad." they try to argue only to have a large old blanket thrown over them. "Hey, what are you doing?" It sends shock throught their system having something so soft drapped over their frame.

"I'm covering you up so you don't get hail damage, I sadly can't get you into the garage at the moment so the next best thing I can do is cover you up with some blankets and a tarp so you don't get damaged by ice falling out of the sky" they explain as they throw another over the vehicle. Making sure to fully cover the bot before throwing a waterproof tarp over them, too. "Sorry, I don't have anything better than this, but it will keep you dry and our of harm's way." Those words hit their spark in a way they never would have thought it would. They are left almost speechless, cosy, and somewhat warm as the hailstorm rolls in.

________________

When it comes to hair colour, skin colour, and tattoos. It fascinates them so much to see such diversity and colour on a species they originally believed to be quite dull. It gets to the point when making their holoform avatars they love exploring and expressing themselves as if making a sims character. Even going as far as some get custom paint jobs of the tattoos, they get on their avatars because, for them, it's the closest thing they can have to tattoos. But think about you getting a tattoo in a shop right across from where your cybertronian partner is getting their paint job because it was a cute couples day out.

And don't get me started on how much cybertronians love human's hair. The fibers are so different to them and they love the feeling of it, they just have to be very careful when running a digit theought thier lovers hair as to not get it jammed in the joints causing you pain.

Another thing that cybertronians are fascinated by is humans' willingness to injure themselves in the name of beauty. From tattoos, piercings, injections, and surgery. In honesty, it's not that different from frame ulteration, but they don't know how a human can do it. The bots can turn their pain sensors off while humans are just soldier on through it.

I love the idea that the bots also horde car freshners that their humans get them. It becomes a full-on pokemon card situation of them trading double ups, begging their partner to get them others so they can rub it in their friends' faces. But air freshners weren't a thing until Earth, and the bots love how it makes their frame smell different from the oil, grease, and car smell.

But perfumes gods I love the idea that perfumes have a certain chemical reaction to Cybertronian systems to the point to turns them into a raging horny bot who can't get enough of how your skin taste and how desperately they try to literally lick the perfume off your skin as if it were the riches and most expensive high grade energex on the market. It also leads to a lot of personal working with the bots not being allowed to wear perfume/cologne. Deodorants don't affect them the same way, but they also enjoy how they smell quite a bit.

But yes I love the idea of perfumes pretty much working like a pheromone spray and don't get me started on actual pheromones spray, your not leaving that bots berth for atleast 3 days, they will bring you food, water and anything you want but it literally overrides their system protocol and makes them desperate to breed you.

In conclusion, DO NOT wear perfume or Pheromone spray near the bots unless you don't intend to be leaving the berth for at least 3 days if not more becyase they can and will keep you their.

________________

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[holybibly]

Mommy I hate to be a bother but can you give me and the other bunnies a shorty of this naughty thought https://www.tumblr.com/holybibly/756656577787936768/did-the-bunnies-miss-me-have-you-been-obedient?source=share

I can't stop thinking about so please I'll even be a good bunny for you🥺🥺

Mmm, bunny, just because I love you so much. Here's a little teaser of what will soon be a full-length work, because I can't get these thoughts out of my head either.

Unholy hour of the day, my sugar fuzzies: Alpha Mommy Hwa gives his greedy wolf cubs a lesson they won't soon forget.

You were hot, too hot for you to handle; your whole body was on fire and tingling like you were in heat, and you had the feeling you could feel Seonghwa with every cell of your body. Your long velour ears were twitching slightly, and your cheeks were wet with the tears and drool that Seonghwa's long tongue had left behind as he licked the tears from your warm, flushed skin.

Your slutty bunny nature was singing with pleasure as you basked in the amount of attention that the Alpha was giving you at that very moment. You could taste the thick, rich taste of his sickly-sweet pheromones on your tongue and the wet feel of his tongue on your skin, his rough, possessive fingers digging into your flesh until it was bruised and bloodied. But it only made you more needy, your sticky, sweet slime pouring out of your hole like a waterfall, filling the whole room with the fertile, creamy scent of peaches and cream.

The rational part of you was still resisting, fighting against your strong instinct for self-preservation and morality, telling you to squeeze your legs together and cover your slutty, needy cunt. But the velvety purring of the head alpha behind your back and the pathetic whimpering of San and Wooyoung at your feet plunged you deeper and deeper into the lustful depths of pleasure, making your thoughts of virtue and modesty melt away.

The whole situation was Woosan's fault. When those seductive wolf pups invited you to play this morning, you never imagined you would end up like this—on Seonghwa's lap, wrapped in one of his luxurious fur coats and covered in jewellery from head to toe, while his huge, thick alpha-cock stretched your tiny pink cunt until it almost hurt. You writhed and cried in his arms, begging him to fuck you and satisfy your hunger and need, but your mommy was merciless, torturing you for hours on end, and not just you, if Wooyoung and San's red, painfully hard cocks pressed tightly against their tense, stained, and glistening with pre-sperm stomachs were any indication. 

The viscous, clear liquid was trickling down between the reliefs of their abdominal muscles and dripping onto the floor, collecting in puddles of liquid lust between their spread thighs. And you thought for a second that maybe when it was all over, the main Alpha would make them clean up the mess with their tongues. While he will sadistically watch the wolf pups lapping up their own cooled sperm. Sometimes your mommy was very sophisticated when it came to punishing, but even that didn't stop any one of the wolves from trying to stick his dick in you up to balls. 

Maybe none of this would have happened if San and Wooyoung had just fucked you or licked your pussy like they usually liked to do, but their inner instincts urged them to mate you, to make you their own. And now they were paying for their greed, fucking the air and coming dry while Seonghwa rolled your pussy on his huge cock and made them watch.

Part of you even felt sorry for them, their pretty faces covered by heavy silver snout muzzles, tight leather collars wrapped around their necks, and at the base of their dicks, the beautiful metal rings that kept their knots from swelling were glistening. 

You scream, a shiver running through your entire body as the thick head of your Alpha's cock nuzzles the edge of your cervix, thanks to a particularly deep thrust. Oh God... The memories of how Mingi, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa rearranged your insides two nights ago, how they literally fucked you to the brink, come flooding back into your mind, and a new load of thick, sugary mucus spurts out of your hole. Seonghwa had been especially kind to the huge, passionate wolf that night, letting him have his way with you, but after Mingi and that daddy had fucked you almost to the point of unconsciousness. The head Alpha took you again, tied you up with his knot, and fucked you at a brutal animal pace, folding you in half so that your legs were pressed against the sides of your head.

Your mommy had fucked you countless times—in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening, at night—pulling you onto his cock like a glove, but you still couldn't get used to the size of it. It felt like his cock was getting bigger with each session, more veins showing on the heavy velvety length and his thick knot practically tearing you in half as he fucked you like an animal. Stuffing you with his cock and pouring so much cum into you that your belly swelled like you were in the early stages of pregnancy.

Seonghwa's appetite for you was insatiable. Everyone in the house, including Hongjoong, had to remember that you belonged to him and only to him. And if the sore, raw, never-healing bite on your neck wasn't enough to make everyone understand that, Seonghwa would always give them an object lesson.

The Alpha's fur coat was too heavy for you to carry, but Seonghwa had recently taken to dressing you up in it. Naked in his luxurious coat and draped in tonnes of jewellery was his favourite look on you. At the moment, you had a diamond collar around your neck that clearly indicated who you belonged to; it was restricting your breathing almost as much as the Alpha's long, skilled tongue in your throat.

A pathetic wail caused Seonghwa to tear his lips away from yours and turn his attention to the moaning, writhing mess at your feet. San and Wooyoung were tense to the breaking point. You could see their muscles twitching and contracting beneath their golden, sweat-soaked skin, their tongues tracing the metal bars of their muzzles, and the veins in their necks bulging as the Alpha tightened their leashes.

"Have a look at the pretty cunt my little sugar thing has." Hwa purred softly, sliding his hand down your body until his long fingers parted your labia as he exposed your tiny hole stretched around his cock to the greedy, dark gaze of the wolf pups. The soft, wet edge of your entrance clung to Seonghwa's knot with every deep thrust he gave it.

"A-a-alpha, please..." You whine, clutching your hand to Seonghwa's wrist as he continues to hold your pussy open and vulnerable.

The deep, dark growl of the wolf pups echoes with the smug, dark laughter of the alpha leader, and you instinctively cringe at the terrifying, vibrating sound that shakes San and Wooyoung's chests as they bare their sharp teeth and dig their claws into the dark parquet, leaving long, jagged stripes on the expensive wood.

His fingers release your labia, only to slap the palm of his hand hard against your clit, causing you to squeal and squirt around his cock. The walls of your pussyclench together to hold Seonghwa's hot, smooth length inside of you, and copious amounts of clear liquid spurt out of your hole onto the floor as he continues to slide in and out.

"All this is mine." Seonghwa growls in a low voice, his mouth sinking into the raw bite on your neck, only to suckle it roughly.

Another growl is elicited from San and Wooyoung, and the Alpha licks your skin one last time before he turns his attention to the cubs.

"Impatient, greedy bastards." Hwa's long fingers tangle in Wooyoung's silky, two-toned hair, squeezing and pulling his face down on your pussy with great force, almost burying his pretty face in your folds, but the snout prevents Woo from getting what he craves so much. His luxurious, fluffy tail whips out behind him as he smells the rich scent of your slick, and he moans loudly, his whole body shaking as if he has a fever. The need to fuck you, to breed you, to fill you with his cum until your pussy is warm and saturated with all his cum drives him literally crazy. He arched his back to press himself even closer to you, even though Seonghwa's cock was still deep inside you, so deep that Wooyoung could see it bulging out on your stomach.

San's no better, rolling his hips and fucking the air, hoping for relief; his sharp cat eyes focused on you, catching your every reaction like his life depended on it. And when streams of milk start running down your body, flowing freely from your breasts, his tongue hangs from his mouth, and his breathing becomes laboured.

"Mmm, Sannie, you want to have a feel of our little fluff too, don't you? Come here." Seonghwa grumbles and yanks hard on San's leash until there is another adorable face right next to your cunt. Your mommy's fingers slide between your folds again, rubbing the sticky slime all over your pussy, and then he brings his dirty fingers to your mouth, and you obediently open your lips for him, allowing him to push them into your mouth.

Another moan, mixed with a growl, escapes from Wooyoung and San at the sight of your little tongue swirling around those long, slippery appendages, and the main Alpha moans in satisfaction.

"Look how desperate you are; you want to try it too, don't you? You want to eat MY bunny's sweet, sticky snatch, don't you?" The wolf cubs nod their heads in desperation, their muzzles almost bumping into each other. "You'd have to do better than that if you want me to let you do that, you little bitches. For now, all you can do is sit back and enjoy the show."

[acid-ixx]

Dear author,

I love your batfam series SO MUCH. I like the way you describe the feelings, how you use the words, how the depression of Y/N was shown, and the thinking of Batfam when they realize that Y/N had been heavily neglectful. Every time I read this series again, I still feel the hurtful of it and it actually makes me cry a lot T.T. And I love that feeling. And the series makes me want to draw, even though I’m not good at drawing.

The first panel, I draw Y/N in my thoughts ( sorry if you feel uncomfortable) and Conner. This one is inspired from a manga called “ Veil”.

The second one, I draw some scenes from chapter 3 (I tried to draw the ways Y/N calmed themselves down, but I couldn’t 😭).

From your series, I’ve thought about ABO au, where Y/N is a beta, they can’t be marked ; so the yanderes ( romantic one) are more yandere, because they know that Y/N never belong to anyone.

Last thing to say, I VERY VERY VERY LOVE your batfam series and this is one of the greatest fics of Batfam I’ve ever read. I also very admire your hardworking and your inspiration about this series. But I hope that you also stay healthy because I saw that you’re very productive ( how you can write so fast but still focus on the details TvT). No words can reveal the love in my heart to your series.

Sorry if I either bother you or my bad grammar ( English not my native language, this is also the first time I do this ). Thank you so much because spending your time reading this piece of mine. I just want to express my feelings and thoughts about your fic. Hope you have a good day!!!<333333

— masterlist !

a/n: the topic of a/b/o is written under this post. anyways, this comic panel is so absolutely brilliant and breathtaking omg... i love all the thoughts u have compiled here and i'm so sorry I wasn't able to reply to this quick enough 😭 but i appreciate this sm !! "even tho im not good at drawing" YET U SENT ME THIS !! i absolutely love everything about this don't say ur not good at drawing bec u are 😡

so like i said, don't be sorry if u draw the reader as female bec i portrayed them as gn so anyone can interpret them as any gender and it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all as long as i'm the one not being misgendered. anyways, veil is actually one of my fave mangas and if u ask me, i could say your relationship with conner is pretty much akin to that of veil's! which means conner is very touchy-feely with you and is uncaring of their status as a wayne and would rather... have you take his last name very soon, if you know what i mean hehe.

the second scene is absolutely heartbreaking even for me, especially the panel where your mom tries to comfort you by telling you it's all alright made my heart ache real badly because that's probably the last time you have experienced; the love of a parent that's soon taken away from you. your mom's last words would be reassurance, one that both comforts and disturbs you as the memory repeats itself over and over in you head like a broken record </3

and the abo au, for me personally (tho i never have written for it) is just going to threaten more angst with your family because not even your pack is willing to take you in and care for you. despite your hopes due to being a beta unlike your family who are comprised of strong alphas and resilient omegas, you are merely average in their eyes probably, average enough to be forgotten and discarded by a pack you had thought would take you in for you must be a misfit just like them.

yet despite the pain you had to endure for feeling unloved as a beta, it would also deepen your potential with conner as your love interest because although you could never be claimed by any past sweethearts, conner would always, and i mean always make a show that he loves you in a deeper, more symbolical way. he may not be able to mark you as your alpha, but a ring and an always protective hold on your waist paired with his scent and pheromones engraved into every piece of your clothing is enough to tell everyone to "fuck off, this one's mine."

and tysm for loving my fanfic 😭 even tho i have written it impulsively, look where it got now !! yes i am very productive but this is a mere product of my attention span and hyperfixations towards the dc storyline and no my health is very bad but trust me it's not from writing, it's more from me just being very ill every single day but im trying to take care of myself <33

[msallurea]

Things to Manifest Because You Can pt. 3🎀🌸

Superpowers

Having a pet

Communicating with animals

Changing your birth name/birthplace

Changing Zodiac/birth chart

Changing ethnicity (!!!very controversial btw!!!)

Apple products

No longer pooping

Desired scented pheromones

Pretty handwriting

Desired talents

Naturally pretty nails

Always being spotlessly clean

Pretty feet

Sweet tasting tongue

Sparkly tears/pastel colored tears

Revising trauma/revising bad memories

Changing history

Aestheticallg pleasing neighborhood

Puffy glossy lips naturally

Pretty aegyo sals/never be cringe doing aegyo

Desired makeup/skincare products

Having your life like your desired time WITHOUT the toxicity (ex: 2000s aesthetic life, 90s, 80s, etc)

Desired undertones

Perfect health

Always having pretty thoughts

Being spiritually healed

Being social media famous

Always having aesthetic social media content/your social media pages always being your desired aesthetic

Having desired body blush

Being a irl anime girl/anime boy

[dokupine]

this is more abt the world than rlly the biology but since mario seems to be pretty human, is there anything particularly notable about the way he interacts or communicates with the mushroom kingdom? or is it more notable that it might not change much

Ohh I was so excited to answer this.

Peach and Mario communicate primarily with tactile sign language. Peach uses only two of her manipulator limbs for this, as to not alienate Mario. There's added nuances from each others voices, but most of the information is communicated via touch.

The language being tactile is important because Peach's compound eyes aren't great at focusing, and her hearing is imprecise. Her world is blurry and muffled audiovisually, but her sense of touch (and chemoreception) is sharp. She experiences the world in a very different way, but touch is one of the things she and Mario share.

She prefers to "hear" Mario's laugh by gently pressing a limb to his throat. She's also sweeping him with her pheromone receptors here, it's equivalent to studying someone's face to commit it to memory.

Before developing tactile sign language, though, Mario attempted to communicate with Peach in a way more familiar to her. Peach sends chemical signals to her subjects via a mycelium network and can process a lot more information this way. Finding the communication gap frustrating, Mario connected the mushroom kingdom's mycelium network to himself.

although the mycelium might be connected to the benevolent beings he lives among and calls his friends, it has no moral compass. It will begin to disassemble you regardless of your intentions.

This made him extremely sick. It was a lot more alarming for Peach, though, being sent signals every second of her friend's body being rotted inside out. Needless to say, this is not how they communicate anymore.

[weepylucifer]

#CHOKNG. SPOTTED BY PAPPY COMMUNISM!#steban voice: and you WATCHED?#jealous because im getting dicked down by my comrade#how are you and the phasmid doing#dros: the what

Steban: Next time I'll wave at the islet so that you can feel included-

Dros: [incomprehensible angry sputtering]

Steban: ...wait, what do you mean by 'the what'

Dros: I mean I've no idea what the fuck you're going on about again.

Steban: The phasmid. ...The giant stick insect. You have that bizarre but also strangely touching relationship together.

Dros: Is this some kind of a fucking joke [he is now crying and doesn't know why]

Dros: I saw you through my scope the other day.

Steban: That's cool

Dros: In your little meeting room. With your redheaded friend.

Steban: Comrade Ulixes? He's actually-

Dros: Going at it. On that disgusting couch. Like rabbits

Steban: And what of it, old man

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Part 2)

☒ Summary:Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Having fallen into the clutches of your doppelganger's nemesis, you plan an escape, blissfully unaware that the Radio Demon himself now knows of your existence.

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

☒ Series Links: Part I Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epliogue

Alastor sat in his usual breakfast spot on the balcony of the hotel, taking tea. Before him on the table sat an envelope, stamped and sealed with Voxtek logos. No-one sent letters in Hell these days, what with the smart phones that everyone seemed to love, but the weight of the item was such that it could only contain one thing. Photographs.

What was old Voxxy playing at? Alastor turned the envelope over in his hand, looking for anything out of the ordinary. In different circumstance, he might assume that this would be a threat or a blackmail attempt, but there was no-one in Hell he really cared about, and since his return after his seven year sabbatical he had committed no crimes worth speaking of- his deal made sure of that. Still, there didn’t appear to be a trap on the envelope itself, no microchips, not even a trace of Valentino’s irritatingly potent pheromone powder.

With a sigh, Alastor slit the envelope open with a single claw, and dumped the contents onto the table. What he saw took him a moment to register, and when he did he spat his tea.

What Vox had sent him were pictures of him. Alastor, naked and fucked out, electric blue cum dribbling down his inner thigh. Alastor on his back, eyes teary and pleading. Alastor with his knees hooked over the top edge of Vox’s screen.

Alastor crushed the first photograph between his claws, eyes becoming red dials, his grin extending to his ears. Vox had gotten him somehow. How? How had this happened? He’d been so careful, he’d never met in person, he’d brought his full mastery over technology to batter Vox back whenever they had interacted through screens. Yet somehow, here he was, splayed on Vox’s bedsheets. A hiss escaped him, angry static. Someone would pay for this violation.

“Hey, Al-” Angel Dust stuck his head out of the door but froze. “Oh fuck. See you’re having a moment here, I’ll go-”

“Nonsense.” With effort, Alastor forced himself down in size, his eyes returning to their usual form. “Just had a little surprise, that’s all.” With a little canned laughter, Alastor started to scoop up the photographs, in his haste scattering them more.

“So you finally fucked the TV, huh. Good for you, smiles.” Angel Dust squinted at the photograph that fluttered to land by his foot. “Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“I didn’t-” distress started to creep into Alastor’s voice, a high-pitched feedback tone as he snatched up more of the pictures, grinning with only his teeth. “I would never.”

Angel Dust gave him a doubtful look. “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with fuckin’, right? Hell I’m the last one ta judge-”

“I have no memory of this.” Alastor hissed, crushing another photo between his claws.

“Oh. Fuck.” Angel Dust gave Alastor a compassionate look. “Sorry, man, I shoulda listened. Lemme help you with those.”

“I am quite capable of gathering these-” said Alastor archly as Angel bent over to retrieve some of the pictures that had fallen under the table. To his annoyance, Angel held one photo up to the light, squinting at it. “Give me that.”

“Nah. Wait. Look, I’m a professional at this okay? Nothing I haven’t seen before. And this? This ain’t the tall dark and creepy I know.”

Your stay in Vox’s suite was enjoyable, but not something that could last. Mercifully the television demon worked long hours, which left you a good amount of time alone. It hadn’t taken much persuading for Vox to give you a phone, a shiny new model with his company’s logo emblazoned on the back. And once you had that, this place’s equivalent of the Internet was your oyster.

Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You’d even let him dress you, a fanciful blue outfit with a tailcoat and bowtie, and if that wasn’t a sign of co-operation, you weren’t sure what was.

what is hell pentagram city

As you suspected, you were in Hell. Though you had no clear memories of your death, you were fairly certain you had died. The memory of falling to the ground in darkness was there, along with the pain in the back of your head, a taste like metal in your mouth. And being here rather than the other place, assuming the other place even existed, was no real surprise to you. Heaven was for the meek and obedient, and you’d done things that were neither. Scanning the information online, and reading between the lines, you picked up the basics. Sinners were ruled by overlords, and Vox was one of these, in a coterie alongside Valentino, the man who had pulled you in and a third overlord you hadn’t met. Overlords gained power from owning souls, but a quick scan of the information told you little about what this actually entailed. Was owning souls like slavery? Did being locked in Vox’s bedroom mean your soul was already forfeit? All you found at first was that soul ownership required a contract of some sort, so you continued your search.

how to tell if you have a soul contract can you be forced into a soul contract how to get out of soul contracts

There was conflicting information on the exact nature of soul contracts, but the general consensus was that the contract required the participant to be cogent enough to sign their name, or at least shake the hand of their new owner. That meant that it was unlikely that Vox actually owned your soul. The bad news was that a person could be coerced into handing their soul over, and you still didn’t have much leverage on Vox. Eventually he would want a handle on you, and the thought of it made you uneasy. You needed an out. It looked like murder would work to break a contract, but Hell’s social media sites were full of people complaining about how difficult murdering a fellow sinner was. People, it seemed, could recover from nearly any level of injury. Fascinated, you followed the topic further.

can you kill sinners how to kill sinners

Unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only person on Hell’s internet interested in this topic. Aside from certain massive injuries, the answer that came up time and again was yes, angelic steel could kill sinners permanently.

what is angelic steel how to get angelic steel

The material was apparently from weapons dropped by heavenly exorcists, and highly sought after. It looked expensive, and you doubted that Vox would continue to buy your innocent act if you started asking him to bring you weapons. You checked the uses, scrolling down the list of applications until one caught your eye. Wire made from angelic steel was sought after by audiophiles for its use in the cabling of sound systems. And what was Vox, if not a man who would make for himself the best high fidelity sound system that money could buy? Stalking into the sitting area of Vox’s quarters, you surveyed his sound system. It stood about seven feet tall and a little longer across, the mesh over the speakers so black that it almost registered like a hole in your vision. You could almost imagine the sound it would produce just by standing there before it, the way the vibrations would run through your hooves and into your shins and through your spine. A shame, really. If you had been planning to stay longer, you could have asked Vox to play some music on it and sat there basking in the sound. Maybe even fucked to something slow and sensual, letting an external rhythm dictate your movements, letting the music override you.

With a sigh, you set the idea aside, opening one of the drawers set into the frame of the sound system. The thing was beautiful, so much so that you were reluctant to dismantle it unless you had to. Fortunately, a little rummaging led you to the spare cables that you hoped would be there, and running a talon over the protective coating, you slit one open. The metal inside was a whitish gold, braided thin enough to make a decent garrote. You tested the strength of it, winding each end of the cable around your hands and pulling it taut, and the feel of a weapon in your hands brought a giddy feeling to your chest. After days of feeling adrift, the tension of the wire between your fingers felt like finally hitting land.

You wouldn’t kill Vox. Not only was it a bad idea- you had no idea how much strength he had, and killing him would set Valentino and Velvette both after you- but you didn’t want to. Even if he had spent the entire time moaning the name of the man with your face, he was still a good fuck, and it felt like bad manners to repay those tender services with a red and sticky end.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the bottle of Valentino’s pheromones from the dresser by the bed, slipping it into the inside pocket of your tailcoat as you tossed the Voxtek phone you had been using back onto the bed. Drugs had never been your usual route of attack, but who knew what would be waiting for you outside the walls of the Voxtek compound?

Getting out of Vox’s suite was easy enough- the override password on the door was fuckalastor, all lower case. But once you were outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even with the length of angelic steel wire wound around your hand, you didn’t feel quite safe.

Alastor watched the V tower from the shadows, an ugly feeling in his chest. If the demon in the photos wasn’t him, as Angel Dust had claimed, he really had nothing to complain about. But the fact that Vox had seen fit to find a demon who was his doppelganger and then find fit to send evidence of those exploits to him? That was still an insult, a figurative glove across the face. His problem was twofold, however. Firstly, the constraints of his deal forbade him from undertaking violent action against anything not a direct threat to the hotel, which V tower very much was not. The second problem was that of his injuries from his fight against the angelic horde. He had lived, barely, but the rent across his chest was a persistent throbbing ache, a gap in him from which static escaped. It rendered him weak. It reduced him to watching and skulking like some street level cur.

It was in this state that he saw you exit the tower through one of the side entrances, your movements furtive and your ears down. You wore a copy of his own outfit in Voxtek blue, and the very sight of it brought a sour taste to Alastor’s mouth. How dare you, an impostor, a fraud, go round the city wearing Vox’s livery, as if the television demon owned you? It was embarrassing. He would make you take it off. Hissing rage between his teeth, Alastor followed you.

There was definitely someone following you. You could feel it. You had been on the other side of this equation too many times in your life, the fear of the other at the periphery of your awareness, chasing down with heartfelt and open-mouthed glee, that it was impossible to miss when you were the one being stalked. The shadows in Hell grew long and strange, studded with eyes and horns and mouths, and you took another blind turn into another darkened alley, grounding yourself with the sting of the angelic steel wire across your palm. You still weren’t wholly used to your new shape, and even now though you were no longer the trembling-legged fawn that Vox had half-carried to his bed a few nights previous, your gait wasn’t the steadiest. If you started running, you were fairly sure you would fall.

You would deal with it, whatever it was. That was how you had always done things. You chose the pragmatic option, you coped. You chose the righteous option, even if no-one agreed with you, even if it meant doing what no-one else could bring themselves to do. You chose the dangerous option, even if it meant staring down the creeping fear in your own heart. You slipped into the shadows, your back hard against the wall, garrote threaded between both of your hands, the pulse of your heartbeat a thunder in your ears, a pulse in your throat, the adrenaline of it making you almost dizzy, almost nauseous, almost aroused. In this your new body was the same as the old. You would catch your hunter, whoever they were.

He stalked round the corner, a figure in red, and with a start you recognized his silhouette as the same as your new body. Alastor. What had Vox said about him? A washed up radio host, a demon with no real power to speak off, feeding off the nostalgia of a bygone era? With a single motion you stepped behind him, looping the angelic wire around his neck and yanking it tight, pulling his body back against yours. He struggled, claws going to his neck, but his claws couldn’t shear the angelic steel any more than yours could.

Hissing, he twisted in your grasp, claws raking a symmetrical gash into your forearm, and you gave an involuntary, crackling cry, holding fast as you felt the blood well. Then two thick strands of shadow sprouted from Alastor’s back, pushing past your chest and wrapping around your own neck. You stumbled back in panic, back hitting the brick wall, vision blurring as the tentacle constricted your blood flow, your grip on the wire slackening. No! You couldn’t lose. There was no air in your throat but you still managed a noise, a soft whine like a capacitor failing to discharge, before your vision went truly black.

Well, that would have been an ignominious way to die. Alastor felt the mark at his throat and his hand came away bloody. His own blood. Sloppy. He gave a low noise of displeasure as he looked down at your unconscious form, the bright blue of that ridiculous parody of his suit now ripped and stained. He hadn’t been expecting a fight, not from Vox’s fucktoy. Had this been a trap after all? No, there were no reinforcements, no cameras. Not the television demon’s style.

Bending down, he took your chin between thumb and forefinger, examining your face closely. As it had been in the pornographic pictures that Vox had sent him, your face was a close match for his own, expression relaxed and naked in something close to sleep. What was more, it didn’t appear to be a disguise, your cervine features quite genuine.

Alastor ran his fingertip over your antler, freezing when he felt the velvet covering, the blood vessels just beneath the skin, a jolt in his heart. You were so vulnerable like this, a single cut and you could bleed out. No deer demon would go out like this. At least, not one who had knowledge of their own body. The implications sank in his gut like lead. How long had it taken for his antlers to mature, when he had come to Hell? A couple of weeks? Alastor felt his lips curl back further past his teeth, hating Vox a little more. Vox had nearly made him kill you, a newcomer to Hell, for the crime of being weak and confused enough to be dragged to Vox’s bed.

What should he do with you? Leaving you here so close to Vox’s domain would get you dragged back to the television, and you were an innocent, well, not quite an innocent, you had tried to garrote him with angelic steel wire, but few people in Hell were truly innocent. He couldn’t kill you, at least not now, with your supine form posing approximately no threat to him. With a resigned sigh, Alastor scooped you up in his arms, disgusting blue suit and all, and began his walk back to the hotel.

You awoke in an unfamiliar place, your face pressed into the pillows of a four-poster bed. It smelled like musk, a rich, smoky sort of smell, with an undercurrent of formaldehyde, and it was oddly comforting, wrapping around you almost like an embrace. Drowsily, you took stock of your body, the ache around your neck and a burning throb that seemed to cover your forearm, remembering the struggle in the alleyway. The scent in your nostrils pulled you back to the memory, with your hands at the back of your double’s neck. This was how Alastor had smelled. This was, unmistakably, Alastor’s bed. He had hunted you, and now he had taken you to his lair to toy with you. Your garrote was missing, predictably, as was the pheromone bottle you had stolen from Vox. You rolled onto your side to survey the room, and Alastor loomed from the shadows.

“Ah, the impostor rises,” chirped Alastor. His smile stretched practically ear to ear. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“My windpipe hurts,” you said, frowning at him.

“Oh, quid pro quo, dear child,” said Alastor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and undoing the collar of his shirt to show the bandage at his neck. “Do you have any idea how long it has been since someone made me bleed my own blood?”

“You were hunting me,” you said, not bothering with any of the cutesyness you had tried with Vox. Alastor had felt you close a wire around his neck- he would never see you as harmless.

“And you were quite the game, little impostor.” Alastor leaned over, and with a slow, deliberate motion, pressed his fingertips to your antlers. You had done your best thus far to ignore the existence of the two prongs sticking up from the top of your head, and even Vox had avoided touching them, so the sensation took you by surprise.

Your antlers were incredibly sensitive. You felt every variation in pressure, every adjustment in position, through your antlers, through their connection to the bone of your skull and further, down your spine and into your loins. Alastor met your eyes, his own half-lidded, and gave a gentle squeeze between thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, feeling the prongs grow under his hand, feeling your face heat.

“Hm. Soft,” he murmured, half to himself, before bringing your attention back to him with another little squeeze, directing your head to his lap. “Not much fight in you now, is there?”

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, heart in your throat.

“My dear, where would be the fun in that?” Alastor replied, his tone shifting to genuine amusement. “A touch could kill you right now.” As it to make a point, he ran a fingertip from the tip to the base of your antler, and you shivered as you felt the touch echo through your body. “Do you have any idea how much blood you would lose, with just one little nick?”

With Alastor touching you like this it was difficult to think straight. It was as if he knew this body better than you did, each touch intense to the very edge of painfulness, the sensations continuing to resonate through your body. You swallowed, burying your face against his thigh. “What do you want?”

“Now now, little pretender. That’s my line, not yours.” Alastor gave a soft laugh. “Though I imagine I know what you might desire. A world where Vox has no ability to drag you back to his bedchambers would be a start, don’t you think?”

Slowly, you nodded against his thigh, and Alastor gave a soft noise of approval. With both hands now he worked his touch from the base of your skull to your antlers, each movement a vivid, carnal pressure through your body. It was like nothing else, and you felt your antlers grow still further, your pulse throbbing through them, your cock aching untended against the inside of your pants, your cunt clenching unfilled. You bowed your head to Alastor’s gentle, dexterous touch, your mouth open as you moaned against his trouser leg, a clipping edge to your audio.

“Oh my, you are enjoying that.” The growl in Alastor’s voice was salacious. “Is it your first time? Does the mean old television demon not know how to touch you like this?”

You weren’t in the mood to indulge Alastor’s fantasies about Vox, not after days of doing the inverse, so instead you whimpered, “Thank you.”

“Mm. At least you have manners, I suppose.” Alastor lifted his hands from your antlers, and you gasped at their absence, the air cold where his fingertips had been warm. With a touch to your chin, he indicated that you should rise, and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows before sitting back.

Sitting up, you noticed that you were not the only one who had grown an impressive rack. Alastor’s antlers extended like the shadows of trees in winter, his own arousal written over his smiling face. They curled, dendritic and beautiful and unmistakably tied to his own libido, echoing through his own body in the same way as yours did. The way he touched you told you that, if nothing else.

Your eyes glazed, head tilting forward. You wanted to lock antlers with him. You wanted to touch him, bone to bone, and feel the same waves resonate through the two of you. You wanted it very, very badly.

Alastor caught you by your injured throat with a hiss. “If you do that,” he said. “You will die. Your antlers are too fresh, and you will damage them, and you will bleed out on my bedspread. So instead, sweet little pretender, you are going to lay quite still and let me tend to you.”

“S-sorry,” you stuttered as Alastor released you, the pain from his grip bringing you a little way back to your senses, your heart fluttering as tears stung your eyes. What did he see in you, you wondered. Was it a way to get one over on Vox? Or simply a reflection of his own face?

“Silly creature.” Alastor sighed, pushing you onto your back, and crawling over you, a depraved gleam in his eye. “You strangle me half to death in an alleyway, risking damage to my precious voice, and now is when you are tearful and apologetic? When I am trying to stop you from hurting yourself?” He placed a hand at your neck again, though with less pressure this time, just enough to hold your head in place.

You didn’t just want to lock antlers with him. You wanted to feel his lips against yours, sharp teeth against yours. “Would you kiss me?”

“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Hold still, now,” Alastor warned, and you felt how carefully he closed the distance between the two of you, how carefully he avoided even a brush of his antlers against yours, though electricity sang in their proximity, the shivering static of not quite the barest touch as Alastor’s lips closed on yours.

Compared to Vox he was a chaste kisser, not bullying his way in but leading you to him, leaving you wanting him, touching tonguetip to tonguetip, nose to nose, needlepoint tooth to lip. It left you gasping, left you quivering, your cock straining against the fabric of your trousers. With an almost coquettish roll of his hips, Alastor pushed his pelvis flush with yours, and you felt his own matching tent. Through four layers of fabric it was still an aching kind of hot, his pulse through it as surely as it was through his antlers. With a slow, measured motion he ground himself against your length, making you whimper soft distortion into his mouth, the tip of your cock leaking wetness and your neglected cunt absolutely slick.

“Oh, this will be fun.” Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners as he pulled back a little, his cock still pressing hard and hot against yours. “Call me a narcissist if you will, but I know that expression. Are you really going to climax, just from a little kissing?”

You would have corrected him, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how well he knew your body, how adeptly he stroked along the tines of your antlers, sensation resonating deep and intense through your body to your core, a master on an instrument you had yet to learn. Locking smug eyes with you, he rolled his hips against yours, grinding against you further, and you mewled for him, hips bucking a little as sensation threatened to overcome you, fighting against the inexorable tightness that built. But just as in the alleyway, this wasn’t a fight that you could win.

You came, your cock pulsing wetly against the inside of your pants as the reverberations through your body sang, a static whine on your lips, absolutely understanding why Vox had moaned Alastor’s name.

Both of you stilled for a moment after that, your body still wracked with aftershocks, Alastor watching you closely, his expression contented. He made no move to please himself, but rather traced the edge of your face, from your temple to your jaw, with his talons. “Good?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Good didn’t begin to describe it. It was sublime, another aftershock hitting you even now. You closed your eyes. “The best. Thank you, Alastor.”

“My pleasure.” Alastor looked down at you with a pleased smile. “You’ve made a real mess of that suit,” he said, a tilt of his head, his own desire for release seemingly forgotten. “Allow me to take it off for you.”

Alastor grinned at the hidden camera on the suit’s lapel, saying nothing but making sure it got a good shot of his face before he crushed it between thumb and forefinger.