#i use the anti tag lightly

[hevansiowa]

i don’t think anyone could ever talk too much about how nasty blaine is for the klaine breakup in S4.

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[sorrowsofsilence]

Sinful Inflictions

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Fem!reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Smut 18+ (PnV, pls wrap it b4 u tap it, fem!fingering, male!receiving), mentions of religion, religious themes, and slight anti-religion.

Prompt:

“Are you ready to pray to me?” He asked, “Then get on your knees and bow.”

It's easy to ignore the eyes of God when you've always had a thing for the priest's son.

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @darkmxgician

(some tags are from older one-shots, so if you want on or off the tag list pls let me know! :3)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3

You patted down the way-too-short floral skirt you dared to wear upon entering the church, dipping your head gently in greeting toward the priest as he stuck out his hand. Your lips reluctantly landed on his aging skin, hesitating for a moment.

“Good morning Father,” You said warmly, but behind your tone lingered distaste. He smiled as he greeted you back and your eyes shifted from his in aversion, before landing on the gentlemen ahead: His son.

Nicholas smiled at you, his gaze enticing as he dipped his fingers into the holy water, his middle and ring finger twirling in the pool for a moment too long. His hand trailed towards his chest, acknowledging the holy trinity in a cross as he stared, completely fixated.

A faint warmth tinted your nose as you followed, your fingers grazing along the water in doubt, following a fabricated praise. Nicholas’ eyes followed your every move before his eyebrow raised slightly. You gave him a polite nod as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his chest lightly.

You sat down on one of the wooden pews, crossing your legs in anticipation. Would he sit next to you today?

You grew up with Nick, always attached at the hip. Your favourite day of the week was Sundays because you knew you’d get to spend time with the boy you’d been crushing on for years. As the two of you aged, neither had made any moves, despite the lasting tension always lingering between the two of you; until last week.

Last week Nick finally took a leap of faith, pushing you into the basement bathroom, and kissing you with complete desperation.

“I have been wanting to taste you for years.”

Smiling at his words you had pulled his body against yours, your hips rutting together. As you moaned against his lips Nick’s hands ran along your scalp before you then pulled away.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You had said, “Not under the eyes of God.”

Nick had scoffed, rolling his eyes as his lips attached to your neck, nipping and grazing at the skin, “I know you don’t believe any of it. You only ever come because I have to.”

His lips had trailed back up towards your ear, his warm breath cascading against you, “Plus if there’s a God, it’s fucking me.”

The two of you haven’t spoken since the kiss, but you squeezed your legs together in fervour, unsure of what today would bring.

As if he knew you were thinking of him, Nicholas slid into the same pew as you, gliding across the wood with ease. His slacks were loose, contrasting with his tight grey button-up that had the sleeves rolled just above the nape of his elbow.

He leaned into your side and your heart quickened at the minimal touch, averting your eyes as his devilish smile transcribed sinful thoughts.

“You want to get out of here?”

You looked around slowly before keeping your eyes ahead, worried others would hear as the choir began to sing, “Is that such a good idea Nicholas?”

His name fell off your tongue in a sultry tone, something that made him shift in his seat as he sat back up, facing the front.

“I need you,” he whispered.

With a racing heart, you dared not look toward him as your face warmed, “How?”

“In every way that you’ll let me.”

The breath that lingered in your lungs hitched in your throat, suffocating your mind with reprehensible images. You crossed your legs, squeezing your thighs together in shame as you imagined Nicholas’ hands roaming your bare skin. You had dreamed a dozen times of his disgraceful fingers pulling an orgasm from you in the church basement, your tongue bowing to his need and taking his moans as if they were yours.

You knew how wrong it would be to sneak off and succumb to lust, especially under the holy eyes of God in a place of worship; but the rush of how sinful it was, made you all the more lascivious.

“Meet me by the storage closet in five,” He spoke softly, but excitement radiated off of him as he slid off the pew and turned back towards the entrance. You didn’t turn to watch him, but swallowed with furor and counted down, waiting the allotted time.

Years of desire that had been pushed away led to this moment, and as your chest heaved nervously you excused yourself from the service, refusing to look at the congregation as you walked up the carpeted floor, entering the door that held the staircase to the basement.

With shakey legs, you followed the stairs down and turned a corner before being tugged toward someone.

Nicholas smiled down at you, his eyes lidded in infatuation as he wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you close against him, the heat radiating off of his body while he began running a hand along your back.

“What do you mean in every way?” You pressed your head against his chest as you took in a deep breath.

“Don’t pretend to be so innocent,” his low chuckle vibrated as he pulled out a key from his pocket, and unwrapped his limbs from your own. Nick reached for the nob of the storage closet, unlocking it before pulling your wrist, and beckoning you inside.

He quickly locked it, tossing the key into his slacks before turning to face you, and pushing you back against the wall with his hands. You watched as he quickly licked his lips in anticipation, before gracing you with a sly smile.

“I can’t hold myself back anymore,” He said as he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you tried not to smile, your hips swaying against his as your stomach churned. Your hands ran up his shirt before resting clasped at the back of his neck, holding him.

“Tell me you feel the same,” He breathed, and you nodded, opening your eyes to meet his smokey irises. You watched each other, waiting.

He pleaded silently for an answer, and without hesitating you placed your lips against his in desperation, pulling him closer toward you as he moaned into the kiss.

Nick’s hand began to roam underneath your skirt, grabbing at the skin before smiling into your caress, “You didn’t wear shorts, and you’re wearing a thong?”

You felt him stiffen below you, his slacks tightening against your exposed thigh.

“I guess I did,” You laughed softly, letting your hands run up his long dark hair, clawing delicately at his scalp.

He kissed you again, this time with more fervour and hunger, ready to devour your shameful soul. His tongue danced along your bottom lip in a lustful beat as he allowed himself to dip his fingers in your underwear.

Your body clenched in longing as you began to push into his hand, desperate for his fingers to graze your adorning skin. You craved Nick’s fingers, and you needed him to know.

“Please,” You begged into his mouth, “Touch me.”

He chuckled at your plea but obeyed, his tattooed fingers parting your desire as he ran them earnestly between your folds. Your abdomen twisted as his palm brushed your clit, before his fingers sunk through your arousal.

The fabric of your skirt rode up your thighs, exposing Nicholas’ immoral actions. He pulled away from your lips to watch, his mouth agape in thirst as he pumped his fingers in and out, curling them skillfully.

Your legs began to buckle and your brows furrowed in pleasure, a quiet whimper crawling from your throat as Nicholas then caught your eyes. A slutty smile splayed on his lips as he proudly fucked you with his fingers in a synthetic sacrament.

The sound of your heavy breathing took over the small, musty, room as your peak built in your stomach, ready to be released. It didn’t take long for you to come, and Nicholas praised you in divinity.

In a ritualistic fashion, he pulled his fingers from you, placing them toward your lips. As if a new ordinance he then nodded for you to suck, and you did, licking his fingers clean of your sin.

Nick groaned unholy words as he blessed himself with the remnants of your orgasm, before tugging at your top.

You began to unbutton your blouse, and he followed, undoing his collared shirt. You both threw the garments to the ground, and Nick reached behind you, unclasping your bra to expose your chest.

“Are you ready to pray to me?” He asked, taking a step back in admiration for your body, before grabbing your hand and placing it on his waistband. You nodded eagerly.

“Then get on your knees and bow.”

You lowered to the ground in submission as you pulled his slacks down his legs, staring at the outline of his erection between the thin layer of his boxers. You tugged the underwear down, wrapping your hand softly around Nick’s arousal.

His hand found the back of your head as he pulled you toward him early, and you hungrily took him in your mouth, allowing your tongue to explore his skin.

You worshiped his body, bobbing your head in a rhythmic pattern as your hand stroked what was left. Your eyes flicked upward, watching Nick’s gaze fixated on your actions, as if he was in disbelief this was really happening.

“Jesus Christ,” He whimpered, hips beginning to thrust into your mouth.

You closed your eyes as you consumed him, your body shaking with lust and greed as you sucked.

“Baptise me,” you begged, and Nick laughed, pushing your head further down himself, forcing you to gag against his cock.

“I want to feel you wrapped around me,” He moaned as you gargled, pushing away to cough. You sucked in a deep breath as he pulled you off the ground, turning your body so you faced the wall.

Nicholas lifted the back of your skirt, a deep grumble erupting from his throat as his eyes devoured you while he stroked himself.

“Bend over and spread your legs,” He commanded and you pushed your chest into the wall, arching your back as far as you could to expose your ass toward your saviour.

You felt Nick’s fingers graze through your folds again, pushing his fingers into you in preparation before aligning himself from behind. You pressed your hips back toward him in desperation, anticipating the feeling of him filling you.

Finally, Nick pushed between your arousal and you cried, your unholy sounds masked by the sound of preaching above. The music of the gospels veiled the disgrace as he pounded into you relentlessly.

His fingers dug into the skin of your hips in lust as he gave into your body, the feeling of your combined souls inflicting a new feeling of complete adoration and need. Your bodies curated an insatiable yearning; an appetite of passion unleashing.

One of Nick’s hands reached to grip your hair, tugging your head back in libidinous urgency, hormones taking over.

Skin slapped together and you moaned from Nick’s thrusts, his body giving you everything he could. You wanted this feeling to last forever and you reached behind, gripping onto his hand that adorned you.

“There is no need to repent, for I am your mercy,” He said, fucking you senselessly with complete greed.

You didn’t care if God’s eyes were watching; you were ready to worship a new man.

+++++

off to hell i go woops

[riafalcone1]

Skittering shadows is basically Azriel's outward show of butterflies in your tummy when you're talking to your crush . It isn't a bad connotation

A fellow elriel already made this post but I wanna re iterate...I forgot who it was so I'm sorry for not tagging buuuuuut I just wanna say thay gleeriels often use the word skitter as a sign that Azriel's shadows are afraid of Elain or don't like her or whatever bs they enjoy twisting

The word skitter is synonymous with ricochet or to skip lightly literally meaning to move about or proceed hurriedly.

You know what else skitters and ricochets when you're in the presence of someone you like - your heart , your pulse . Skittering shadows is a very good sign ...they are the outward expression of butterflies in your tummy when you're around your crush.

Also those very shadows played wingman for Az for Elain when they whisked the jewelry box for him. And made sure she got to her room.

Hate to break antis delusions but those shadows love her and are ready to defend against anyone.

Dancing shadows to people who sing doesn't make that person special . Sorry. They dance to any music .

[fkinkindagauche]

A Ghost In Giant Sneakers, Laughing, Stars Around His Head

I finally got around to writing this one for Day 6 of @steddie-spooktober "haunted". Title is from "Joy" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 1,641 | CW: None | Tags: Ghost Eddie Munson, Hand Jobs

It had been a long, boring day at Family Video, and Steve had once again failed to find a date to help him unwind. There had been options, sure, but none of them had piqued his interest. It had been a serious problem lately, and Robin told him he’d gotten way too picky. But the girls of Hawkins just didn’t seem to be doing it for him anymore.

That's how he found himself on a Friday night, laying on his bed in just his boxers, in his parents’ house that they hardly ever returned to, completely alone. He trailed a hand down his stomach, stroking lightly through the hair beneath his belly button. He could at least still help himself unwind.

He stuck a hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers, taking his half-hard cock in hand and giving it a few experimental strokes. He felt himself quickly growing hard, fully erect in no time. His interest in the girls of Hawkins may have waned, but his horniness definitely hadn’t.

He let out a little moan as he felt precum start to bead at the tip of his cock, swiping it up with his fingers and using it to slick his strokes. He started to stroke faster, twisting a little at the tip the way he liked. As pleasure started to build in his lower belly, he found himself thinking about broad shoulders, a skinny waist, curly brown hair, dimples.

He stopped his strokes, shaking his head vigorously. What the fuck. Boobies, Steve, he told himself. Think about boobies.

He resumed his stroking, trying to picture boobs. It worked, mostly, and he found himself inching closer to orgasm, almost there, when he was interrupted by a voice.

“Watcha up to, big boy?”

Steve screamed, hand coming out of his boxers as he sat up to see that Eddie’s ghost had materialized in his bedroom. He was wearing the same clothes he'd died in, complete with blood stains, though he was monochrome now, looking like he'd walked straight out of a black and white movie.

“What the fuck, Eddie! What did we say about privacy?” Steve yelled, pulling a blanket up above his waist to hide his erection.

“Well, I can’t exactly knock, Stevie. I’m incorporeal,” Eddie said, giving Steve a mischievous smile.

Steve glared at him. “I don’t even understand why you’re haunting my house. You didn’t die here; you’d never even been here before you died. We barely even knew each other until you started haunting me! Can’t you go haunt Henderson?”

Eddie shrugged. “I go to his place sometimes. But I like it better here. Living in a luxury I never had while I was alive.”

“You’re incorporeal!” Steve threw back at him. “You can’t even enjoy the luxury.”

“That’s just hurtful. And anti-ghost,” Eddie said, pouting.

Steve sighed and dropped his face in his hands. His erection was long gone, and he wouldn’t be able to get back in the mood knowing Eddie was lurking around. He moved to get out of his bed, but before he could Eddie spoke again.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, smirking. “You were making such lovely noises.”

“You were listening to me?” Steve asked, scandalized.

“I mean, you’re pretty loud. Kind of hard not to listen,” Eddie said, making Steve blush. “Who were you thinking about, Stevie?”

“Boobs,” Steve blurted, trying to keep his mind far away from who he’d been thinking about before the boobs.

“Just, like, generic disembodied boobs?” Eddie asked, skeptical.

“Yeah. You know. Good ones.”

Eddie shrugged. “Can’t say boobs ever really did it for me, but whatever floats your boat I guess.’

Steve looked up at Eddie sharply. “What do you mean, ‘boobs never really did it for you’?”

“I’m more of a dick man,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “You mean you’re gay?”

Eddie looked a little skittish, eyes darting from side to side, then he shrugged again. “Yeah. I guess there’s no real reason to stay in the closet anymore. What’s the worst someone could do if they found out? Kill me?” He gave Steve a lopsided grin.

Steve was side-lined by Eddie’s honesty, which was the only reason he could think of to explain what he said next. “I’ve been wondering lately if I’m actually a boobs and dick man.”

It was Eddie’s turn to raise his eyebrows this time. “Really? Steve Harrington, ladies’ man? A bisexual?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Steve muttered, blushing again.

“It means you like both – boys and girls,” Eddie explained, floating over to perch on the bed beside Steve.

“Oh, then, yeah. Probably,” he admitted.

“Do you think about boys sometimes while you’re touching yourself?” Eddie asked, leaning closer to Steve. It was always weird to be close to Eddie as a ghost. He’d been such a tactile person, so it felt wrong to have him right there and unable to touch.

“Y-yes,” Steve admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“What kinds of boys?” Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. Skinny ones?”

Eddie smirked. “What do the boys do to you?”

Steve panicked. “I haven’t really gotten that far. I just, sort of, think about their bodies, what it would feel like to touch them. To be touched by them.”

“Do you think they’d touch you differently than a girl?” Eddie asked, voice sultry. Steve could feel his erection coming back, starting to tent the thin blanket he’d pulled over himself. Eddie’s eyes glanced down, then back up to Steve’s face as he smirked.

“Here’s how I’d touch you, if I could. First, I’d run my hands up and down your sides, like this.” He reached out and moved his hands over Steve’s sides. It looked like he was touching Steve, but all Steve felt was a vague chill. “You should do it, with your hands,” Eddie encouraged. “See how it feels.”

Steve let go of the blanket he was desperately clutching and moved his hands to his sides, putting them exactly where Eddie’s were. He could see a vague blurry outline of Eddie's hands overlaying his own, long, nimble fingers with too many rings. Steve's own hands were warm and familiar, but when paired with the image of Eddie's hands, they sent a less familiar thrill through his body.

“I'd probably kiss you next,” Eddie said, leaning his face forward toward Steve's, stopping just short of his lips. “Unfortunately that's a little harder to simulate.” Eddie's eyes looked sad, but one side of his mouth quirked up into a half smile. It was jarring to have Eddie talking against his lips, and not feel even a brief puff of air.

One of Eddie's hands started to move, Steve catching sight of it out of the corner of his eye, and he moved his own hand to track Eddie's progress, down, down, trailing through the hair beneath his belly button. He paused at the waistband of Steve's boxers. 

“You're gonna have to take the next step here if you want to keep going,” Eddie said, voice deeper and less teasing. “But what I would do, if I could, is slide your boxers down, so I could see you.” 

Steve took a shaky breath, bolstering his courage, then grabbed his boxers and pulled them down, freeing his now fully hard cock. Eddie's eyes widened as he took him in. “The girls weren't lying about this aspect of the Harrington charm,” Eddie said.

Steve paused, hands held in the air, as he waited for Eddie's next direction. Eddie licked his lips and looked back up at Steve's face. 

“I would grab hold of you, like this,” Eddie said, reaching a hand out to encircle the base of Steve's cock. Steve put his hand into Eddie's, feeling the strange chill, and took hold of himself. “Then I would start to stroke,” Eddie said, hand moving up toward the head of Steve’s cock, palm ghosting over the buildup of precum. Steve's hand followed, collecting the moisture, continuing back down again as Eddie’s hand did as well.

“Do you like it fast or slow, Stevie?” Eddie asked, eyes smoldering. 

“S-slow, at first,” Steve managed to force out. Eddie nodded, starting up a slow stroking that Steve followed with his own hand. 

“I have calluses on my hands and fingers, from playing the guitar, but you'll just have to imagine those, with your pampered rich boy hands,” Eddie whispered near Steve's ear. Steve snorted, but found himself wanting to feel those calluses. He tried to imagine them, the roughness against the soft skin of his cock.

Steve's breaths started to come more heavily, pleasure building in his core. “Faster, now,” Eddie whispered, increasing the pace. “Tighter. I'd squeeze you so tight it almost hurts.” Steve moaned, and squeezed his hand tight enough to be just on the pleasurable side of pain. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve said, feeling an orgasm building. 

“Now I'd use my free hand to play with your perfect nipples, pinching and rolling them between my fingers,” Eddie said, moving his hand up. Steve groaned, picking up his pace. “Do it. Touch them for me,” Eddie commanded. Steve complied, pinching his nipples with his free hand until they were red and hard. 

“Eddie,” Steve said. “‘M gonna come.”

“Yeah, baby, wanna see it. Come for me,” Eddie said, and it sent Steve over the edge, coming all over his hand and stomach, harder than he'd come in ages. He shook through his orgasm, continuing to follow Eddie's hand with his own as Eddie simulated stroking him through his orgasm, wringing out every last drop.

Steve collapsed back onto the bed when Eddie's hand finally retreated. “That was fucking amazing,” Steve said.

“Yeah? Enough to finally make you stop bitching about me showing up unannounced?” Eddie asked, smiling.

“If you do that every time? Definitely.”

[oneawkwardwriter]

Tending Wounds

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x fem!reader warnings/tags: mentions of injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, leading up to nsfw but fade to black, no use of y/n summary: basically tending to the wounds trope a/n: alright, we're back! if anyone wants to request a fic, read this. That's it for now, enjoy the fic! wc: 1.1k

It's already late at night when you walk into your bedroom, getting ready to go to bed as you hear a soft tapping on your window. 

At first, you dismiss it, but the tapping becomes louder, making you walk over to the window and open the curtains, revealing Peter in his Spider-Man suit. There are a few cuts and bruises on his face, as well as red blood stains on his suit.

Before you can say something, he speaks up, his voice muffled by the glass between you, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know where else to go..."

Not sure how to respond, you just open the window and help him inside. Once he's somewhat steadily standing on your bedroom floor and you've closed the window, you turn towards him.

"Do I want to know how this happened?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Probably not," Peter answers, his voice slightly cracking and his breath laboured from the injuries.

"Alright, then we'll just get you patched up." You say it as if it's normal, and to your defense, it kind of has become just that. Ever since you found out about Peter's secret identity, nights like these have become far more frequent than you'd anticipated.

At first, you had questioned him why he hadn't just gone to a hospital, but you quickly stopped once you realised that he'd have to answer too many questions he couldn't answer truthfully.

Step by little step, you walked him out of your bedroom and into your small kitchen. There, you helped him clamber up on the kitchen island to get a proper look at the wounds.

"Well, luckily, they all seem superficial," You say as your eyes scan over his body. "You won't need stitches, but they'll definitely need to be disinfected and bandaged up properly."

"Luckily for me, I have you as my nurse to patch me up," Peter responds, biting back a cheeky grin despite the severity of the situation.

"Don't get me started, bug boy." You shake your head as you retrieve your first-aid kit from under the sink. "Alright, gotta clean this up first."

After applying some anti-septic to a cotton ball, you carefully dab at the gashes on his cheek. Peter tries to sit still, but the sting from the rubbing alcohol makes him lightly jerk his head to the side.

"Pete, you gotta sit still," You mumble as you try to clean the gash.

"I know, but it's difficult," He answers, trying to avoid the cotton ball.

In an attempt to keep him from moving away, you lightly grab his chin to hold his head still. "There we go," You say as you finish up cleaning, shooting him a light smile. "Just some bandaids and you're good to go."

Peter softly nods, very aware of the fact you're still holding onto his chin, your thumb barely brushing against his bottom lip. His breath catches in the back of his throat, and he's thankful you're preoccupied with the bandaids to hear him.

His eyes begin to wander, trailing along your arm to your shoulders, up to your face until they fall down to your lips. He seems to have gotten a bit caught up, because he doesn't notice you've said anything until your hand suddenly waves in front of his eyes.

"Earth to Parker," You say, letting out a light chuckle when Peter snaps back to reality. "Ah, there you are."

"Sorry, you were saying?" He asks, lightly shaking his head as if clearing up the haze.

"Can you maybe spread your legs so I can stand in between them?" You ask as you look at him, "I'll have closer access to your face that way."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Peter says, still not really present.

As you stand between his legs and apply the bandaids, you speak up again, "You don't feel lightheaded, right?"

"No, why?"

"You sound a bit off, thought you might be feeling a bit out of sorts."

"Nah, I'm fine."

"And you also don't have a headache or feeling ill?" You ask, "Because it takes a lot of energy from your body when it needs to focus on healing you back up."

Peter's hands move from their spot on the kitchen island and rest on your arms. He softly says your name, but you're too busy listing off everything that he could experience besides pain from his wounds. He says your name a little louder, catching your attention this time.

"I promise, I'm feeling fine," He says, looking into your eyes. "Although, I guess there's one thing that could help me feel better..."

"Well, come on, spit it out," You say with a light chuckle.

Peter's hands move from your arms to your waist, gently pulling you closer. "Tell me to stop..." He whispers while looking into your eyes.

"Stop what?" You ask rather rhetorically, your voice slightly catching in your throat as you step closer to him.

"Tell me to stop thinking about you..." Peter whispers, "Tell me to stop thinking about running my hands over your body; tell me to stop thinking about kissing you; tell me to stop wanting you close to my body, to consume me whole and to say you want the same."

"Peter..." You say softly as you look into his eyes. For a moment, the world is dead silent with the exception of your breathing. But then, as if a magnetic force is pulling you towards each other, his lips find yours.

You get lost in the moment for a second, but then pull away while forcing your breathing to calm down. "We shouldn't do this, you're hurt," You say, taking a step back. "I don't want to make it worse."

But Peter follows you and hops from the kitchen island. "You're not gonna hurt me, darling," He says while slowly walking you backwards until your back softly hits the wall. "And no, I don't need any painkillers. You are the only drug I need."

While leaning you against the wall, he attaches his lips back on yours with more fervour this time. Noticing that your hands tentatively work their way into his hair, he softly whispers against your lips, "It's alright."

With his confirmation, your fingers begin to gently comb through his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands, eliciting soft groans from Peter. As if you weighed nothing but like a feather, he picked you up by your waist, your legs carefully wrapping around his.

"Peter," You whisper softly, "You should probably rest."

"Right," He answers, "Then off to bed we go."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

(to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

[wutwutno1]

Vizzy Nom

Based off of @stormtheskyelf2 's Lizzy headcanon story idea Idea origin: https://www.tumblr.com/stormtheskyelf2/747575904113393664/lizzy-headcanon-anon-btw-you-have-some?source=share Read tags before reading. You have been warned

“Damn purple thing.”

V flew through the bunker halls, looking for Lizzy. Her wings wired softly as the anti-grav engines hummed away, propelling her forward through the cold air.

V felt the cool air rushing past her, making the already naturally cold six inch tall drone feel even colder.

“I will so get her back for this. . .”

V continued with her flight, although she knew she’d have to stop before her engines got too cold to function.

V looked around at the looming pieces of furniture and massive doors rushed past as she flew past them. She found a suitable box to land on and circled back to it. Her peg feet landed on them with a soft click.

V’s wings retracted into her back. V shuddered, feeling the cold metal enter her barely-warm-enough-to-function body. One of the many downsides of being tiny.

V sat on the box and huddled up to herself. V looked around. This hall was full of lockers and posters relating to school and education. V saw a few posters for the prom that was more than a month ago. V scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Ugh. They still have those up? These are some lazy worker drones. At least I’m at the school. Lizzy’s class should be ending in a few minutes. I just gotta wait and pray she comes through here.”

As if on cue, the school bell rang, and students began filing out of the classrooms. V watched as each student passed, waiting for her friend to walk past.

V saw Lizzy’s blond hair among the crowd of semi-mindless worker drones. V checked her core temperature, and upon deciding it was safe for her to make the short flight, unfurled her wings and took off. She flew up into the air and began to glide down to Lizzy, targeting her head.

Lizzy felt a something small splat on the back of her head and latch on. Instinctively, she grabbed it. Whatever it was, it felt like an action figure had clung to the back of her head. Lizzy felt it cling to her hand as she brought it to her face to inspect.

V landed in Lizzy’s hair and latched on. She clung to Lizzy's hair, relishing the slight warmth it offered, until someone yanked her away once more. V squeaked reflexively and clung to the hand that tore her away. It was warm. It was nice.

“V?! What are you wearing?!” Lizzy shrieked before changing to a more calm and smug tone, “Also, what happened to you?”

V looked at her outfit. She had ditched her crop-top jacket for an actual winter coat and snow pants since her body could barely keep up with the cold and keep her warm enough to function. V sighed and looked up at Lizzy.

“Old one was too cold. I will literally die wearing anything else.”

V let go of Lizzy’s fingers, not wanting to ruin her image in front of Lizzy.

“As for what happened, Uzi was using her freak powers and shrunk me. She says it was an ‘accident,�� but I think it was on purpose.

Lizzy laughed. Her grip on V loosened until V was just sitting on her flat palm.

“Are you still going to the sleepover?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Well, does my tiny little killer need a lift?”

V blushed slightly at Lizzy calling her her little killer, but it quickly went away.

“I will rip your voice box out of your throat once I’m big again, but yes. I do need a lift.”

“Ha!”

Lizzy and V knew V’s threat wasn’t genuine. V has never followed through with a threat to Lizzy, but it didn’t matter. Lizzy lifted V and placed her on her shoulder. V gladly sat down and leaned on Lizzy’s neck, blushing lightly as she did so.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up. I need the warmth. I will literally die without it. This doesn’t mean anything. Shut up.”

Lizzy just chuckled and began walking to her living quarters. . . .

Lizzy arrived and opened the door. Only one other girl arrived and was already sitting on Lizzy’s couch.

Rebecca lazed on Lizzy’s couch waiting for Lizzy to arrive. Once Lizzy did she slowly stood up.

“Took ya long enough.”

“Shut up. Where is everyone else?”

Rebecca shrugged.

“Jess is dead, Becky has a virus, and Diane had better things to do.”

“Damn. So just us three, huh?”

“Three?”

“Oh yeah.”

Lizzy grabbed V off her shoulder and held her in her cupped hands.

“V’s here, even though she’s so tiny.”

V grumbled and crossed her arms while sitting in Lizzy's cupped hands, giving the impression that she was annoyed to be there. Rebecca looked between Lizzy and V. She knew they had a crush on each other, but were unwilling to show it. Rebecca grinned, already formulating plans to get them to confess.

“Alright then. Let's get this party started!”

The girls then went to Lizzy’s room. They started with a few games and a movie. After a few hours, they began to play Truth or Dare. Rebecca knew this was her chance. She just had to set them up perfectly.

Rebecca already had a plan. She had recently learned of vore, and she was going to dare Lizzy to vore v, knowing she wouldn’t do it. Lizzy would then have to confess her feelings for V to explain why she wasn't taking the dare. It was foolproof!

“Okay, that was pretty stupid V. Now then, Lizzy. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Lizzy said, smugly.

Rebecca grinned. Now was her chance.

“I dare you to vore V!”

Lizzy and V paused. This was unexpected of Rebecca. They both knew what vore was, but they were now thinking that Rebecca was a fan of it.

V laughed while Lizzy blushed. V knew that Lizzy wouldn’t do it, which is why Lizzy’s next words made her oil feel even colder than it already was.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

V jerked her head to face Lizzy, confusion etched on her face.

“Excuse me?”

V yelped as Lizzy’s fingers grabbed her coat hood and lifted her into the air. V kicked and thrashed as Lizzy brought the tiny morsel of a drone to her face.

“It’ll be fine, V. It’s warm in there, I promise.”

Rebecca watched on in horror as Lizzy lifted V above her mouth. Lizzy opened her maw and allowed her warm breath to waft over V, causing the smaller drone to tremble.

“W-wait, Lizzy! C-can’t we talk about this?”

Without a word, Lizzy drops V into her mouth. Lizzy’s jaws snap shut behind V as she felt Lizzy’s soft tongue sink beneath her. V pushed against the roof of Lizzy’s mouth, trying to open her mouth, but Lizzy’s spongy tongue just compressed and sunk more.

Lizzy giggled feeling V wiggle in her mouth. It was a weird feeling, but she liked it. Lizzy did a mental countdown and swallowed, pulling V halfway into her throat. Lizzy could feel V’s legs kicking in her throat. It tickled, but Lizzy was on a mission. She couldn’t fail this dare.

On the second swallow, Lizzy's throat completely engulfed V, dragging her down to her stomach. Lizzy traced V’s descent with her finger, feeling her wiggle all the way down. Lizzy turned back to Rebecca, who had wide hollow eyes and was covering her mouth in a mix of horror and shock.

“What?”

“Y-you actually ate her.”

“What, didn’t think I’d do it?”

“Y-yeah? You were supposed to say no and confess your feelings for V. . .”

*Lizzy blushes and averts her gaze. Her arms instinctively cross over her abdomen.

“F-feelings? For V?”

Inside Lizzy’s stomach, V was panicking. V kicked and thrashed against the soft spongy walls. It was warm and slimy in Lizzy’s tummy. V couldn’t believe that Lizzy had gone through with the dare.

V looked around the space. The pink glow from LEDs hidden in the folds of the walls illuminated the grey walls that V looked around. V was half submerged in a pink glowing liquid that dripped from the walls. The space was soft and warm. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was panicking and in Lizzy’s stomach, V might have enjoyed it. The walls absorbed all of V’s attempts to escape, making V feel trapped and alone.

Lizzy could feel V’s struggles. Lizzy’s smile widened as she turned to Rebecca.

“I can feel her squirming in there!”

“Y-you can? Um. . . Can I feel?”

Lizzy shrugged and lifted her shirt, and guided Rebecca’s hand to her abdomen. To her shock, Rebecca could feel V’s struggles.

“Oh, wow. . . I can feel her. . . Do you mind if I?”

Rebecca lowers her head and presses her ear to Lizzy’s stomach. Lizzy blushed, but didn’t stop her. Lizzy placed a hand on Rebecca’s head, pressing her softly to the soft fabric that separates her and V.

“Wow, I can actually hear her!”

Rebecca raises her head and looks Lizzy in the eyes.

“So, what are you going to do with her now?”

Lizzy thought for a moment before answering,

“I think I’m going to keep her in there for a while. Come on. Let's watch a movie.”

V felt her world rock as Lizzy stood up and started walking. She grunts in frustration with every bounce of Lizzy’s step.

Rebecca and Lizzy make themselves comfortable on the couch and start to watch a movie. It was a cheesy comedy, but neither drone laughed. Both drones kept the movie on for background noise as they pulled out their phones and started to browse social media.

V had remained still for a good few minutes after Lizzy had sat down. She waited for Lizzy to say or do anything, anything to tell her she wasn’t being forgotten. V got tired of waiting and halfway through the film, started to kick and struggle.

Lizzy noticed V’s kicks and placed her hand over her stomach, gently letting V know she wasn’t being forgotten.

V felt Lizzy’s hand over her and sighed in relief. She decided to try and talk to Lizzy and tell her she wanted out.

“Hey, Lizzy? Can you let me out now?”

Lizzy glanced at her stomach from her phone, hearing V’s voice. She let out a single snicker and smiled, shaking her head.

“In a bit, V. Relax, okay? Everything will be fine.”

Lizzy suddenly felt a sharp jab in her abdomen and doubled over, groaning in pain. V had bit Lizzy’s stomach wall. V’s saliva instantly repaired the little damage she caused, but it happened long enough to give Lizzy a little sting.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let you out of there! Just chill for a moment!”

Lizzy stood up and made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door and locked it. She didn’t want Rebecca, or god forbid, her dad to see her spit out V.

Lizzy braced herself, leaning on the sink and slowly working her stomach and throat to squeeze and push V up. V rose higher and higher in Lizzy's throat before she deposited her in her mouth.

Lizzy grabbed a towel and spit V out into it. She began to dry V off while the smaller drone grumbled.

“Sorry about that. I guess I kept you waiting too long, huh?”

V shuddered. She was cold again. The slime and saliva coating her cooling off rapidly and making her feel colder.

“Thank robo-god Lizzy is drying me off,” V thought.

Lizzy finished drying off V and she placed the tiny drone on the corner of the counter. She crouched down to be eye level with V, watching her tail swish angrily behind her.

“So, um. . . About eating you. . .”

“Were you going to digest me?”

“What?”

Were. you. going. to. digest. Me?”

“N-no! Absolutely not! I don’t even think I can digest!”

“So why did you keep me in your tummy so long?!”

Lizzy blushed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she did enjoy having V inside her. However, Lizzy decided to tell V the truth.

“I guess I just liked having such a hot and cute girl inside my stomach.”

This time, it was V’s turn to blush. She thought that Lizzy liked it, but she didn’t think she’d actually admit it. V especially didn’t think Lizzy would call her hot or cute.

“Y-you think I’m hot? And cute?”

V and Lizzy averted their eyes while shuffling in place. Both were flustered, and both knew the other was too.

“Yeah. . . I do. . .”

“W-well um. . . I guess you’re also. . . hot and… cute. . .”

Both stood there, averting their gaze and occasionally glancing back at the other, not saying a word.

“Do you want to. . .”

“Make this official?”

Lizzy and V stared into each other's eyes, trying to see if the other was faking or wasn’t willing, but finding no unwillingness in each other’s eyes.

“Yes,” they both said at the same time.

Lizzy offered her hand for V to climb on, which the tiny disassembler accepted. V quickly climbed onto Lizzy’s hand and sat down. Lizzy lifted V to her face and stood up.

“S-so, how about a quick little. . .”

“Okay. . .”

Lizzy brought V up to her mouth but this time, instead of Lizzy’s lips parting, they puckered out, just like V’s. Lizzy planted her lips on V’s face and the drones kissed. V tried to do the same, but it was a little awkward with Lizzy’s libs engulfing V’s entire face.

The two pulled apart and looked at each other with prominent blushes on both of their faces. They were both quiet for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Better wait for you to get big again before doing that again, huh?”

“Agreed!”

They both relaxed and looked into each other's eyes, smiling warmly. Lizzy glanced away for a second to consider her next words. She had a question for V, but she didn’t know how she would feel about it. Lizzy sighed and decided to continue with it anyway.

“So. . . What was it like… inside my stomach?”

V paused. She took on a thoughtful gaze, trying to think of a response.

“It was… nice. It was very warm and soft. . . I liked it. . .”

V was blushing in embarrassment once she finished her statement.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, it was nice having you in there. It felt like I was protecting you. I liked having you close like that. . .”

“Would you like to… do that again?” Lizzy whispered under her breath, but V could still hear.

“I um. . . Yes. . .”

Lizzy’s eyes lit up and she smiled, feeling excited. Lizzy was almost shaking in excitement while staring at V, lovingly.

“Honestly though, I’ve heard of this thing called ‘fearplay.’ Would you like to try it out?”

“Whatever floats your boat, hun.”

Lizzy felt like she was melting with how flustered she was at V’s statement. She quickly calmed herself and her tone shifted to better fit the fearplay she was about to perform.

“Okay then. Get ready V.”

Lizzy looked down at V with a wide hungry grin, showing off all her teeth.

“Well, look what we have here. A delectable little treat!”

V giggled and feigned fear.

“Oh no! A big scary monster!”

Lizzy laughed evilly and brought V closer to her jaws.

“Oh yes, I am a big scary monster! And I’m going to eat you!”

“Please don’t eat me!”

Lizzy lowers V and lifts her shirt, exposing her abdomen. She presses V against her stomach and plays a gurgle sound effect.

“I’m gonna eat you. You’re going to go in here! Can you hear it calling for you? Yes, I can tell you’re going to be delicious indeed!”

Lizzy lifts V back to her mouth, opening wide and revealing the dark warm cavern. V can see the little heart-shaped pink LED in the back of Lizzy’s mouth just under her uvula. Pink glowing saliva drips from Lizzy’s mouth, drooling on the poor helpless V.

“I’m gonna eat you, and I’m going to enjoy feeling you struggle helplessly!”

Before V can respond, Lizzy shoves her into her mouth, only V’s tail sticks out of Lizzy’s lips. Lizzy flicks her tongue out and licks the little vial and stinger before slurping it inside. Lizzy manipulates her tongue to turn V around to swallow her pegs first.

Lizzy braces and swallows hard, swallowing V in one gulp. Lizzy licks her lips and pats her stomach affectionately.

“Good luck, morsel! And squirm while you still can!”

Lizzy laughs again before calming down and shifting back to her normal self.

“How was that, V?”

“You definitely need some help! But not bad for your first try!”

Inside Lizzy’s stomach, V shuffles up to one of the stomach walls, getting comfortable in the soft warm space. V smiled, feeling safe and protected despite Lizzy’s earlier words. She knew it was just pretend, so why worry? V closed her eyes and started to enter sleep mode.

Lizzy rubs her abdomen one more time before walking out of the bathroom and joining Rebecca on the couch. The movie was still playing and Rebecca looked up from her phone, turning her head to Lizzy.

“So, how’d it go? And where’s V?”

Lizzy smiled and patted her stomach.

“Let’s just say, your plan to get us to confess our feelings for each other worked.”

[cyrusclouds]

☆ INTRODUCTORY POST ☆

last updated on: may 23rd, 2024! haaiiii!! my name is cyrus, super nice to meet you guys!!! here's my pronouns.page for anybody curious on my pronouns and such, but if you just want a quick overview, i use any and all!! :DD

! I'M 14 YEARS OLD, DO NOT BE WEIRD PLZ !

moot requests are totally open!! a little p.s, i am angelkin, raccoon therian/raccoonkin, and a nina hopkins (creepypasta) & kris (deltarune) fictionkin!!! <3

CONTINUE FOR: dni, custom tags, and extra info <3

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CUSTOM TAGS:

cyrus does art ☆

cyrus says a lot ☆

cyrus says a little ☆

cyrus makes edits ☆

cyrus speaks the truth ☆

cyrus answers your asks ☆

cyrus makes stimboards ☆

cyrus talks about system things ☆

cyrus says something important ☆

INTERESTS:

fnaf, dsaf, dialtown, scp foundation, batim, sander sides, mark egos, roblox myths, bnha, scott pilgrim takes off, hazbin hotel/helluva boss, hetalia, gravity falls, gobb, ddlc, mlp, undertale, deltarune, cuphead, dead plate, centricide, death note, pokemon, hamilton the musical, resident evil, underverse, detroit become human, okegom, tf2, kinito pet, and some other things i probablyyy forgot to add!!

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youtubers: flamingo, markiplier, jacksepticeye, danny gonzalez, drew gooden, jarvis johnson, kurtis conner, funkyfrogbait music artists: ghost bc, sleep token, mitski, lana del ray, jack stauber, lemon demon, sodikken, tally hall, will wood

BYF:

i have bpd and suspected asd, so please tread lightly and try to keep this a positive space (no drama)!

as my pronouns.page says, i am a minor. keep it sfw.

i tend to get very anxious with interactions, so if i seem nervous, don't worry, you didn't do anything!

i can be a bit obnoxious with asks, so if you don't like it, please just ask me to stop :))

DNI CRITERIA:

i block freely, buuuuttt... homophobes, transphobes, racists, zionists, nazis or neo-nazis, anti-furry, anti-otherkin, anti-therian, anti-neopronouns, anti-xenopronouns, anti-xenogenders, proships or comships, and overall assholes. keep off my page, you WILL be BLOCKED.

KINS:

dave miller (dsaf)

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yuri (ddlc)

error (underverse)

(none of the above are for abusive reasons!!)

[vodika-vibes]

Requesting some more love for Boss please!

Wanted

Summary: You and Boss are on the run from the Empire.

Pairing: Clone Commando Boss x Reader

Word Count: 944

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I'm not sure I'm happy with this, but I have a migraine forming, so this is all I have. Sorry.

“Rules are meant to be broken,” You proclaim, as you wave your wrench towards Boss, who stares at you with a single raised brow.

“That thought, cyare, is why you’re wanted on 13 planets.”

“Wrong!” Your wrench slips out of your hand and clatters to the floor of the ship loudly, “That’s because the Empire ain’t shit!”

He rolls his eyes, “Anyway,” Boss says, “Since we can no longer hide on Daiyu-”

“-that isn’t my fault-” You interrupt.

“Since we can’t hide out on Daiyu anymore,” Boss continues as if you hadn’t spoken, “Where should we go next?”

You stoop to pick up your wrench and shove it into its place, “Outer Rim, maybe? Or Wild Space is an option.”

“I was kind of hoping that you would offer a name,” Boss says with a sigh, “But sure, let’s start with Outer Rim worlds, they’re not likely to bend to the Empire.”

You grin at him, and enthusiastically fling your arms around his neck. He sighs but wraps his arms around your waist, “How about Tatooine?”

“Mm. Sand, sun, slaves, and Hutts. My four most favorite things in the galaxy.” Boss says sarcastically. 

You laugh, “No one will look for us there.” You tempt.

“Right. Until you somehow piss off the Hutt Cartel and we have to run from both the Empire and the Hutts.”

“You make it sound like I go around insulting people all the time.” You say with a pout.

“You told the Grand Moff to take a long walk off a short pier and then broke his nose, and frankly I’m surprised that you lived to meet me in the first place.”

“I take issue with fascists.” You sniff.

He lightly squeezes your hips, “I need you to chill the fuck out, cyare. I’m looking for my brothers, which I can’t do when we’re being chased from Imperial worlds.”

“So you want me to behave?”

“That would be a nice change from normal.” Boss counters.

You rest your forehead against his chest plate, and then sigh, “Fine. We can hide out on Tatooine, just long enough for the heat to die down, and then we’ll go back to Imperial space and look for Fixer, Scorch, and Sev.”

“Thank you, cyare.” He kisses your forehead and then releases you to head towards the cockpit, “The ship isn’t going to fall apart on me when I try to jump to hyperspace, is it?”

“No! Er…probably not.”

“Try to keep the ship from blowing up on us, please cyare.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best.” You turn back to the engines, and open the net to run a quick google search.

While you know how you ended up in this situation (a comedy of errors that started with you getting into a fist fight with someone who used to be part of the 501st and ended with you on the run from the Empire with a former Clone Commando), sometimes you have a hard time comparing what your life used to be to what it’s become.

You were an art student, once. Sure, an art student with anarchist tendencies who was anti government and anti war and went to protests and organized riots from time to time, but you were still an art student. 

And now here you are, slowly working your way up the Empires shit list.

Honestly, the best thing that’s happened to you in the last year is meeting Boss.

You glance towards the cockpit, where Boss is removing some of the bulkier pieces of his armor for comfort, and a small smile crosses your face.

Boss just appeared on your doorstep about a year ago. He had been beaten half to death and needed help, and you’re still not sure how he found you, but you’re glad that he did.

You managed to patch him up, and when he admitted that there was something rotten in the former Republic and that he was looking for his brother, you jumped at the chance to help him.

Anything was better than sitting around and watching as Palpatine destroyed everything good and honest and true in the galaxy.

And six months after that, when you were hiding from Imperial soldiers on Dantooine, you kissed him. And he kissed you back. And then he kissed you again and again.

And now here you are, six months later, in a relationship with a man who you never would have met if the Empire hadn’t taken over. 

Silver linings, right?

“Cyare? How are we looking?” Boss calls from the cockpit.

“I think we’re good. At least, according to the schematics I’m looking at online.” You say as you step out of the engine room and shut the door behind you.

He glances at you, “Alright. Then grab your seat, and we’ll see if we can’t make it to Tatooine.” You grin and climb into the co-pilot’s seat, tucking your feet under you, you turn your attention on him, and smile adoringly.

“What?”

“Just thinking about how we met.” You reply.

He glances at you, and a small smile crosses his face, “Smartest thing I’ve ever done. Right up there with kissing you on Dantooine and that night on Rishi.”

“You really liked that night on Rishi.” You say with a laugh.

“I liked the outfit you were wearing, and the way you looked under the moonlight,” Boss says easily, “And I really liked the way that you looked at me.”

You laugh and stretch out, “I really liked that night on Rishi too. We should do that more often.”

“Once we’re safe.” Boss promises, he focuses on the navigation computer, “Ready to go, cyare?”

“Ready.”

[i-dont-want-your-desire]

Info

Name: [N/A. TBD.]

Age: 20

Gender: No. Yes.

Pronouns: It/its, they/them, he/him

Sexuality: Mostly men. Sometimes others.

You may be wondering what's in my pants based off my personal posts. Am I intersex? Trans? The answer is my chest is flat, my voice is low, I've got a hole, and I've got a dick.

I do use both the terms transsexual and transvestite. If that bugs you: leave.

Kinks and + below the cut.

Kinks (and Paraphilias)

All original kink/para posts can be found on my blog tagged under "op-[kink/para]." Such as "op-necro" or "op-incest."

Necro. Under very specific circumstances.

Incest. Older brother mainly.

Fauxcest

Breeding. Sometimes pregnancy.

Cnc. Rape-play specific.

K9. Very lightly. Still exploring.

No

Misgendering

Detrans

Vomit

Scat

Piss

Snuff

Impact play

Gore

Obligatory Disclaimer

I obviously don't condone rape, necrophilia, or beastiality irl. If I think you're engaging in any of it irl or consuming real videos/audios/etc. of it, you'll be blocked and reported. I do, however, support people who are trying to properly deal with their paraphilic disorders.

You might be wondering why I didn't add incest to that list, and that's because I do condone it. So long as both parties are over 18 (preferably in their 20s+) and are consenting. Though I recommend skipping the inbreeding.

Other

This blog is anti-radqueer.

This blog is pro-para, anti-contact.

This blog supports those with paraphilic disorders seeking help.

This blog supports the LGBTQ+. Homophobia, biophobia, lesbophobia, transphobia, and general overall queerphobia will not be tolerated.

This blog supports intersex people. Intersexphobia won't be tolerated.

This blog accepts all religions. Forcing your religion on someone won't be tolerated.

This blog accepts all races. Racism will not be tolerated.

[iniziare]

Every time I go into Seele's tag to find artwork, the salt in my veins increases tenfold. It's so disheartening (and annoying) to see how she's reduced to nothing more than a half of a lesbian ship in which she's also noted to have been 'so mean to Bronya', and if not kept in that context, then she's just disliked for being 'rude', and all of it's entirely missing the mark in terms of what makes her who she is. Salt incoming, and super incoherent salt at that.

First off, I need to not-so-blindly defend the character and say (and this'll sound harsh, I know): if you love Seele, but also praise Hoyo for how Bronseele was written in HSR, I'd like to have a word with you. Because here's my issue: Seele's issue with the Overworld is so immense and it's a view that's so thoroughly and deeply rooted, that hearing that little miss Overworld princess to actually have come from the orphanage in the Underworld wouldn't have made a single difference. Bronya still had a life that not a single child down below could even dream of, Bronya still represents 'the Overworld' in all its glory, no matter if she has a kinder heart that is shown only later on in the story. Seele is rude, and mean because she has a right to be. She once, when quite young, canonically fought a man (and he ran off) for the last little bit of water that was left in a bucket outside of the orphanage for the homeless, only to see him at death's door through the window not long after (and since, has ensured there's always water left for others). Seele, when young and little enough to fit into a supply bag, has seen people in the Overworld throw away food as if food is a luxury and comment on how cruel it is, and how she never wants to come back up to the Overworld ever again. Seele has immense dismay (bordering on loathing) for the Overworld for such good reasons. The Underworld suffers already in basic human necessities, while the Overworld has them in abundance. Of course Seele will detest everything that Bronya represents, and letting all of that go simply because 'Bronya also came from the orphanage' is, in my opinion and I don't resort to saying this lightly, bad writing on Hoyo's part, and I can only write it off as fan-servicing to the HI3 fans. I do not take 'expies' into account when it comes to ships. If Hoyo, or the fandom, wants me to see and acknowledge a 'heavily insinuated ship', then write it well, and where it makes sense for both characters, without sacrificing their values and the core of their characters. Respect them, and I'll respect the dynamic, and/or the ship. Until then, no. So when I go into a tag and all I see is Seele tied to Bronya, especially in the ship. I absolutely hate it. And I hate it even more when I read people hating on people who don't ship it. Guess what, maybe it doesn't always have to do with people being 'anti-lesbians' or 'anti-women', maybe sometimes, like in cases such as my own, it has everything to do with... hey, maybe actually respect the women in question through actions, rather than claiming that you do with some easy peasy words. And then when it comes down to it: you fall short.

And though I touched on it in the last paragraph, I just want to reiterate it: Seele's story isn't about Bronya, it's not about love of one woman to another. And thinking that it is, or relegating it to that, is incredibly saddening, because you're overlooking everything that she stands for— actually no, it's throwing away everything that she stands for. Do you know how Seele in HSR got her name? 'Seele' was given to her by Oleg, and it means 'soul'. And do you realize what the soul is representative of? It's the... immortal element of an individual. The very foundation and 'core' of a human being, touching on the conscience, individuality, and... emotion. That which makes us human, and gee, I wonder why she was given that name as of an early age. And gee, I wonder why she's noted to be the actual backbone of Wildfire, the organization that arose to protect the Underworld, when the Overworld retreated entirely.

I'm not saying that Bronya and Seele don't have an interesting dynamic, I'm just saying that I wish people didn't take away from the latter's character to make it happen simply 'because it seems to be an obvious thing in HI3!' Well guess what, I'm not playing HI3, I'm playing HSR.

[usefulkiddo]

this blog is an outlet and a safe place for me, but it may not be a safe place for you. this is a warning.

i am not interested in debating morality of kinks and play between consenting adults, especially if they follow risk aware consensual kink. i’m risk aware and you should be too.

if you are under the age of 18, leave. if you do not have an age or age range in your bio or somewhere visible, leave. “18+” is not an age and it will get you blocked.

anyways!

🫧 main content 🫧

noncon/rape

ageplay

pet play

forcemasc

anal

fauxcest

etc (intox, pain, free use, impact play)

other things may be featured, like choking, for example, but please know that i don’t really tag, i’m sorry. if you do end up wanting something tagged, let me know.

🫧 now that we have all of that out of the way, welcome to my blog, my gender is fucked and my sexuality is lesbian and my body is fat. i’m a submissive stone bottom transmasc femme who girlmodes and boymodes. not that it really matters but i am pre-t

i am on the ace spectrum, so please don’t get overly sexual in my DMs right away….. it takes me time. i might be able to play the part with asks but DMs feel too personal.

⚧️ T4T supremacy ⚧️

if you are cisgender, tread very very lightly and please do not call me a girl, i am not a girl. i don’t care how many times i may refer to myself as one, or am referred to as such by my trans siblings. i’m nonbinary.

DNI if under the age of 18, a bigot, racist, ableist, misogynist, transmisogynist, homophobic, transphobic, truscum/transmed, terf/swerf, radfem, exclusionist, fascist, pro-american, anti-semitic, nazi, zionist, mra, map or nomap

i can and i will block anyone as i see fit to do so!

soft limits: oral sex (g) & piss (may post this sometimes ngl)

hard limits/dislikes: being called a man (very very few exceptions) or woman, deadnaming, race play, being called worthless or harsh degradation, snuff, gore, blood, guns, feedee/feeder kink, master/slave titles, scat, emeto and others but this is all i can remember rn

[sophsun1]

hello i'm sorry people complain on your gifsets i am not a gifmaker myself but the process from what i understand seems very lengthy and i am always very impressed with gifmakers in general but YOURS! they are always so crisp and clean and while they're not for fandoms i'm in most of the time i still enjoy scrolling through them immensely. thank you for making them! thank you for being a creator and putting your creations out into the world for others to enjoy. it's a gift and shouldn't be taken lightly ok i hope you have a nice night

hey anon!

this is the sweetest message tysm 💛😭

honestly there is far more that goes into gifmaking than people realise before you've even loaded a single screencap into photoshop, trying to procure HQ downloads isn't easy, then mastering colouring and techniques eeek it's a lot.

it's crazy the comments people leave in the tags from bodyshaming actors, complaining the set isn't specific to their vision, being a full on anti of said media and rb to tell me they hate it, being gross and parasocial about actors etc. we do this for free for you to enjoy and real talk it's not always free for us to create, software/storage costs money.

all in all to say, no matter the quality if someone puts out their creation whether it be art, fic, gifset, meta etc be respectful about it. I will never leave a negative or mean comment if it's something I don't enjoy I simply scroll on by, it's that simple. fandom in general has become far more negative than it used to be, which is why there isn't as much content being produced alongside the lack of reblogs etc.

thank you for being one of the nice ones, I hope you have a wonderful night too <3

[the-egg]

hey how's it going? :) I'd like you to headcanons a humorous female reader who uses a lot of irony and jokes, with Miguel having to deal with her, in a development of a novel. I love her work ❤️ -- @bellaisa2507

-----------------

I’m a little confused on the “development of a novel” part but I’ll try my best!

Word Count: 850

Tags: Implied smut, really bad jokes

-----------------

To love someone like you, one has to make some sacrifices. Miguel was willing to make the sacrifice of listening to your corny jokes for the sake of receiving your love <3

You were like Lyla, except you weren’t an AI tied to Miguel. Witty humor and a smart mouth

You would like to be tied to Miguel tho if you know what I mean ;)

When he first met you to recruit you, he had half the mind to leave you in your dimension without a gizmo and ban you from ever joining the Spider Society

It wasn’t like you were bad at your job; you were a great Spider-Woman and handled your first anomaly so beautifully. By the time Miguel came, all he had to do was pick up the anomaly and head back

No no no instead you decided to use the worst pick-up lines someone could ever hear in their life

"Hey, are you from another dimension?"

"What do you—? Yes, I just said that. Were you not listening—"

"Because you’re out of this world!"

You dropped a few more jokes before Miguel left your dimension

Lyla had to convince him to come back

As an official member of the Spider Society, you became someone who was a light in every room you walked in

You always had a way to bring a smile to someone’s face, either intentionally or unintentionally, including Miguel's, but he wouldn’t be caught saying that

After a few months of working with him, he would keep you around him as one of his right hands

Not only were you a strong and clever fighter, but you had a way to calm him down with your humor

Being the head of the Spider Society was stressful in itself, not to mention the added stress of fixing holes in the multiverse, so having you there to crack jokes helped calm him down

Again, he thought of you as someone very similar to Lyla, except he couldn’t see right through you, he could hang out with you, fight along side you, touch you...

Needless to say, being Miguel’s personal anti-depressant made him fall for you

His heart would soften every time you came into a room, and he would crack a smile at every one of your horrible jokes

You made him kinder, softer—only to you though

While you had already liked him since day one, when he tried cracking a joke back at you, your heart swooned

The only jokes he knows how to make are dad jokes though which made it 100 times better

You went to Miguel’s office platform after a mission to destress with your favorite person. Of course, Miguel was stressed out at his desk as usual, staring intently at the screens. Luckily, you were there to break him out of that mindset.

"It sucks that we’re on a time crunch on missions. My last mission happened at an ice cream parlor, but unfortunately, I had to split right after. Get it? Get it?! Split! Like banana split!" You stared at Miguel as he cracked a small smile; his eyes were still glued to the screen. "Miguel, I’m saying we should go get ice cream."

He let out a small chuckle at your blunt attempt to ask him out for the umpteenth time.

"Hey, do you know if Spider-Cat was in my office today?" Miguel asked as he finally turned his head to look at you. You cocked your head to the side, and your brows furrowed.

"No, why?"

"Because I can’t find my mouse."

You could practically hear the comical ba-dum-tis of the drums after his joke. A smile bloomed on your face as you lightly punched his shoulder.

"You are so corny!"

"You’ve used that one on me before!"

One day he would finally say yes to one of your many attempts at asking him out through silly jokes, which would make your brain completely malfunction

After getting to know him and his devastating character backstory, you were under the impression that he wouldn’t be willing to commit to a relationship of any kind

But after breaking down his walls little by little, you brought a humor to his life he was willing to open his heart to

When you guys start dating, he picks it up with the flirty comments

Some were jokes while others were steamy

"Spider-Woman, we need back up over here!" Miguel yelled through the watch as he and Peter struggled to weaken the anomaly of the week.

"I’ll be over in a second! I’ve almost nailed this villain!" you responded through the watch as you nearly captured the other anomaly about a block down from Miguel and Peter.

"If you’re not over here now, I’ll do more than nail you to the ground when we get back to HQ!"

You have never swung over faster in your life.

But seriously, he loves you so much

You are his sunshine!

He has never smiled so much since losing his daughter, and he hopes to continue smiling with you till the end of time <3

[uru-writes]

'*•.¸♡ EXAMINATION ♡¸.•*' dg x eugene ꨄ︎

tags: established relationship, fluff, warning this is the most cliche thing ever

tw: skin chafing/itching/scratching, description of irritated skin

Eugene sighed and quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt, frantically itching at his bare chest as he sits on the edge of his bed. It was unbearable. Damn uniform. Who decided on such a harsh fabric, anyway? It had been bothering him all day, but a chairman can't be seen succumbing to something so derisory. Plus, it wouldn't help the comments about how girly and pathetic he already is.

"What are you doing?"

Eugene paused and watched Dagyeom proceed across the bedroom, who took one look at the hard nipples barely poking out of Eugene's shirt before grabbing his wrists and pushing him back on the bed. Dagyeom carefully pulled away his shirt, exposing red, irritated skin; some parts blotchy and some marked with clear nail streaks. Eugene frowned and squirmed under his partner's close examination, still not used to the proximity Dagyeom so enjoyed.

Dagyeom hissed quietly. "Why would you do this?" he muttered, gently brushing the soft skin with his fingertips.

"It was itchy . . . " Eugene mumbled, squirming until Dagyeom got up and left. He returned with a tube of anti-itch ointment. He straddled Eugene, despite more squirming. He unscrewed and squeezed the tube lightly, beginning to spread ointment across the chafed skin.

Eugene peered up at him silently, watching Dagyeom focusing on tending to him. He would typically hate being serviced so intimately, but it was oddly relaxing. Damn Dagyeom and his gentle touch. He had a way of softening him up in a way that was only slightly annoying. He was on the verge of complaining, but decided to wait patiently instead.

"You know, I was gonna do that myself," he finally said when Dagyeom finished.

"Yeah, sure," Dagyeom mumbled, absentmindedly screwing the cap back on the tube. "You're welcome."

"Thanks, I guess."

"I told you not to wear clothes like this anymore."

"Since when do I do what you say?"

[sophieinwonderland]

Reminder, Plural is an Inclusive Term and Plural Tags Are Inclusive Spaces

Recently, there has been an anti-endo who has been plagiarizing endogenic posts. This, while frustrating, isn't too much of a surprise. Anti-endos aren't exactly known for their creativity, and most of the contributions to the plural community have always come from the pro-endo side while the anti-endo side prefers to leech off of our accomplishments like parasites while attacking the community that made the resources they depend on.

If this were simply about the plagiarism though, I wouldn't be posting this in anti-endo tags. I would be very happy to leave the anti-endo tags alone so long as anti-endos stay in their lane and far from our community.

I think if anti-endos allow the pro-endo community to have our spaces to ourselves, then they can have their hate tags to themselves.

But our community tags include the plural tags.

For those unaware, "plural" was first coined in the 90s as an alternative to the heavily medicalized "multiple."

We don’t claim that every multiple system/household is a happy loving cooperative one. What we do question is the *identification* of “real multiples” with the characteristics or symptoms of a psychological disorder. We go further: we question by what right or authority doctors and therapists are given sole jurisdiction over the definition of “an individual”.

This is one reason our clan encourages use of the word “plural” rather than “multiple”. “Multiple”, even standing by itself, brings to mind MPD/DID, “multiple personality disorder”, “dissociative identity disorder”, which are specific diagnoses created by the medical/therapeutic community. “Plural” is a much more neutral word, more commonly heard in the context of grammar than psychiatry. (The other reason, of course, is that plural can be construed to have a broader meaning, applying to anyone(s) anywhere on the continuum who experience themselves as plural in some way. )

"Plural" is, and always has been, an inclusive term. And the "plural" tags are thusly inclusive spaces that should be free from hate.

If they aren't, if our community isn't allowed to exist in peace, then I can't promise that anti-endo tags will be free from my posts.

I am aware that my presence in your tags may cause distress to some. I mean, part of the reason some anti-endos claim to have made the Sophiecourse tag about me was because they claim to find my presence as an outspoken pro-endo triggering.

I want to acknowledge this so we're all on the same page, and you can understand that I know exactly what I'm doing when I promise to continue to crosspost into anti-endo tags if anti-endos continue to invade ours. Collective punishment isn't something to resort to lightly, but it seems to be the only way to get anti-endos to stay in their own spaces and out of inclusive ones.

So with that, I kindly request that the anti-endo community please speak on my behalf to the user who has been stealing pro-endo posts, and ask that they stop posting in inclusive plural spaces. Especially if you or your friends are distressed by my presence in anti-endo tags.

Ultimately, I believe that both spaces can exist in peace. So let's work together to keep system spaces safe for everyone.