#nat's tangents

[reidslibrarybook]

back for my annual check-in 🫡

[dianessunflower]

Art in The Good Fight and (The Good Wife) - Part 1

as promised, i am resharing some of my art threads from twitter over here. to recap, as a history major and art nerd, i have always loved looking at the art shown in the sets of period drama, but it was really striking to me how obviously intentional it was being used to assist in telling story in The Gilded Age (plus Impressionist lover Mrs Sylvia Chamberlain was just begging for it).

while part of it is about identifying the art because i do love an easter egg, the other part i find really interesting is thinking about how art reflects character and story. so, i started thinking more about art in The Good Fight/The Good Wife, and i started a twitter thread and it became a season long thing this year for the final season.

this post is part 1 of 2 about the art in The Good Fight/The Good Wife, and in particular, Diane Lockhart's impeccable art taste. so, without further ado...

this is my hands down fav, which is in Diane's Boseman/Reddick office in TGF, Girl with Peony by Andy 'Zig' Leipzig 🔥

i adore the surrealism and guess what i found? sunflowers of course 🌻🌀🌻 this is Andy 'Zig' Leipzig's Have a Heart, 2014.

in Diane's old apartment in TGW era, the engraving on the right is by Jean-Pierre Louis Laurent Houël, Vase cineraire et figures antiques (1782, Gennadius Library).

the left looks like Bougainvillea, Parivolia, Italy by Isabelle De Borchgrave (watercolour).

this is not Diane's, this is Sweeney's, but i have never been able to find this still life from TGW 419, which is a shame because it is GORGEOUS.

in the McHart apartment post TGF s2, there's an engraving by French artist Jean Louis Prévost, Flowers & Fruit.

behind Kurt and more clearly here is a French Watercolour Landscape (distributed by Soicher Marin gallery).

there are also a few pieces in the bathroom, including some botanical prints visible only in the mirror. and this one above the fireplace, A Rainy Day, by an unknown American Continental School artist (20C, oil on canvas).

i'll be back next week on Thursday (aka missing TGF more than usual hours) for the rest of my thread, which focused on the art in s6 and was possibly more intentional than the rest of The Good Universe put together.

[twisted-tales-told]

hello my dearest!! <333 i have some questions for you ☺️

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going?

🌿how does creating make you feel?

Hi hi Nat love

Sometimes, there’s a scene that’s so utterly mundane that for the life of me I cannot figure out to approach it. And I don’t mean like a “domestic” scene,

I mean explaining who’s cast as what in a play to the readers while trying to make it cool interesting and easy to follow

BUT what keeps me writing is that sometimes I just get this whole scene in my head start to finish, and I just NEED to write it. This happens to me with every chapter of Ghosts Of Us. If I push through those mundane scenes then I know the magic is there and it will be stronger the further into the story I am

Creating is probably the most human part of me.

Im not very good at a lot of things that we are supposed to do as people. Im really bad at taking care of myself and keeping up with all those silly things like deadlines, appointments, work schedules, due dates for uni etc.

I’m also a very strange person to have as a friend because I can get really obsessive over what I’m interested in and it can be hard to talk to me about things outside of it.

BUT when I’m making something it’s like creating a home for all those parts of me that don’t fit into the world. They finally have some place comfortable to go and sit and exist peacefully.

There are a million things I will never do, and a million more I’m supposed to do that I don’t want to.

But I can sit here and let the words flow.

This ask game

[cringelordofchaos]

Do I "not know who I am" or am I just really insecure and am trying to find a mask to put over myself because despite my best efforts to avoid it, my human nature drives me to put an active effort into having a superficial reputation, rather than letting myself just be natural, and be content with myself without feeling the need to let strangers know who or what I could possibly be?

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.” 

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more. 

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly. 

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker. 

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. 

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder. 

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest,  hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you. 

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission. 

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises. 

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest. 

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. 

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants. 

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.” 

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men. 

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek. 

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible. 

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft.  He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself. 

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.” 

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it. 

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms. 

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands. 

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time– 

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself. 

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again. 

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips. 

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. 

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed. 

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you. 

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls. 

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci. 

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it. 

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn. 

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway. 

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon. 

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe. 

 What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths. 

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead. 

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt. 

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected. 

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper. 

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more. 

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back. 

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before. 

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning. 

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you. 

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

[ilovenatasharomanoff2-0]

Nerdy Natasha Hcs pt.2

warnings: masturbation, blowjobs, edging, I don't even know

pairings: intersex Natasha x fem reader

Sfw

. Nerdy Natasha who: Always brings you to a museum as a date. She always says it will be fun for both of you (she just wants to go and see old artifacts.) The whole time you guys are at the museum, you stare and smile, and she drags you along to something cool that she found.

. Nerdy Natasha who Gets so shy when you hold her hand in the Hallways. Her head would always be down as a blush coated her face. You would tell her she's adorable and kiss her as you enter class.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Will always sneak behind you and embrace herself in you. Her strong arms would wrap around your waist as she tucked her head between your neck while you cooked breakfast for the two of you.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Will go to the Lego store at the mall and buy one of those Lego flower sets and two Lego people that look like you two. She would build the flowers in 30 minutes and drive over to your house as fast as she could, sprinting out of her car just to give you your gift. She couldn't even talk because she was out of breath.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Comes up to you and gives you a hug as she wraps her head down on your shoulder if she had a bad day. You would be scratching her head and telling her it's gonna be okay. She would also be bending down so much because of the height difference.

. Nerdy Natasha who: Can't stop talking about you to her family at dinner. Yelena gets super annoyed whenever Natasha goes on a tangent about how great you are and how she would never date anyone else. But Alexi and Melina are super invested in her life. A huge smile always plaster their faces when she talks about you.

. Nerdy Natasha who will always take photos of you with a Polaroid camera and hang those photos up on the wall. You always tell her to take them down because you don't think you look that good, and she will literally talk for hours about how you are the most beautiful girl in the world and how you are the one thing she could stare at for days.

. Nerdy Natasha who Loves it t when you sketch random drawings on her arm. you would carefully move your pen over her skin and veins while the teacher discusses a new project due in the next few weeks.

. Nerdy Natasha who will literally do anything you ask her. You need her to tie your shoe because it's not tight enough? She's kneeling in the middle of the dirty sidewalk tying your shoe. You're craving something that's not in your pantry? She's jogging to the nearest store to get you the food that you want.

. Nerdy Natasha who would always let you fix her eyebrows for her. She would lie on her space-themed bed as you lay on top of her, carefully plucking the out-of-place eyebrows with a tweezer. She would always complain about how bad it hurt too.

"Oww, y/n, be gentle. I can feel that you know that, right?"

"Stop it, Natasha; I know that didn't hurt. You're just being a big crybaby right now."

. Nerdy Natasha who will carry your bridal style to her car if it had been raining the previous day and you want to keep your new heels neat.

. Nerdy Natasha who Would be on one of those kiss cam videos at her school. She would be so shy because she was being recorded and would only give you a small peck on the lips. Everyone found it adorable, though.

. Nerdy Natasha who loves doing skincare with you. You would always have her sit on a chair as you put moisturizers and serums on her face. After a while, though, she would always complain about being unable to see because her glasses would be off.

"Y/nnn, are you almost done? I can't see, and my optome-"

"My gosh, Nat, do you ever stop whining?"

. Nerdy Natasha who loves to do movie marathons with you. And it will be the stupidest movie, too. They would have bad CGI and a bad soundtrack. After a while, you wouldn't mind because Natasha was having the time of her life.

. Nerdy Natasha who loves to go on Ikea dates with you. She would always point out a cute bedframe or couch that she liked and rant about how she's gonna put that in the house that the two of you will buy when you are done with high school and college.

nsfw

. Nerdy Natasha who sitting in her desk chair with her arms tied behind the head of the seat while you used a Fleshlight to get her off. She would be begging you to ride her so she could feel your pussy around her.

. Nerdy Natasha who would have the biggest mommy kink ever.

"Please let me make you feel good, Mommy, please."

. Nerdy Natasha who would wake up in the middle of the night with the biggest hard-on ever. She would reach over to her nightstand to get her glasses and look down at her boxers. She would be so scared to wake you up and tell you what happened she would quietly lay back down and hump your ass till she came. You obviously woke up after the first few minutes because of her loud breathing and whining. You didn't help her either. You just pretended to be asleep.

. Nerdy Natasha, who is almost on the verge of tears while you suck her off under her desk while she's studying for an upcoming exam. You whispered in her ear that she needed a 'little break'. Next thing she knows, her cock is stuffed in your mouth.

. Nerdy Natasha who gets caught watching porn by you, She's so embarrassed. She wasn't jerking off or anything to it (she was hard though) she had a pen and notebook by her side with a couple of notes written down on the white sheet of paper.

"Y/n! You said you weren't going to be home this early!" She yelled out to you, frantically shutting her laptop.

"Nat, baby. I could've helped you learn some of that stuff, you know that, right honey?"

. Nerdy Natasha who stays having dark hickeys on her neck. Yelena thinks it's the funniest thing in the world while Melina and Alexei are yelling at her once more. She would let you make a heart with hickeys on her back

. Nerdy Natasha who Sends you a picture of her lying on her bed with a hard-on. She would text you about how desperate she is to be inside you and that you must come home soon.

. Nerdy Natasha who would always be so mesmerized by your boobs. You don't think she's actually ever seen anyone else's before. She would be so scared to touch them too. You would lead her hand to your chest so she could feel them.

. Nerdy Natasha who always gets edged by you.

. Nerdy Natasha who will have a shopping basket online filled with different kinds of sex toys that she would never tell you about. You would go on her computer to look at the notes for a class and instead find the website she was looking at with a shopping bag full of toys.

[missingexaltation]

Further 'Steve plays D&D' shenanigans.

He plays in what the party call 'baby's first campaign', the off tangent, more chaotic and lighter campaign that Eddie's running.

He doesn't play properly, because he has zero interest in D&D at all. Eddie lets him get away with it, which everyone else finds unfair, but 'tough shit kiddies, DM's word is law'.

Steve's only character requirement is that he always has 'the bag thing' (aka the bag of holding) and mostly uses it as a weapon. Annoying NPCs, enemies or fellow party members? In the bag they go, and in the bag they suffocate. Only worthy enemies get to be killed by his sword.

He doesn't remember character names or races, instead giving them a nickname and number. (ie frog guy 1, frog dude 2). Jeff and Lucas pick up on this immediately and join in.

At first he doesn't know which of his dice to use and when. Eddie gets used to just handing him the right one...so now Steve automatically holds his hand out whenever he needs to roll. (It's much quicker.)

Once everyone knows that he and Eddie are dating, he openly and blatantly tries to negotiate re-rolls for kisses during their smoke/snack breaks (and sometimes things written down on scrap paper that makes Eddie's eyes go wide). It works most of the time, and the kids hate it, even though it works in their favour.

Steve and Eddie clash only once, when Steve's first character dies early on. Eddie hands him another character sheet, very similar, and Steve immediately names him the same name. Eddie tells him no. Steve argues for a while before looking him right in the eye and changes just the first letter of his name instead (ie Rob instead of Bob).

Steve has zero connection to his character. It's just a fun game to him, but the others take it way, way more seriously. Open the booby trapped chest? Sure, Steve will do it. Drink the potential poison? Why not! Eddie will just give him a new character if it goes wrong. There's no actual consequences, unlike the Upside Down stuff.

Everything is a NAT roll to Steve, not just 20 and 1. Nat 4, Nat 8, the whole lot. Dustin hates it so damn much.

He tries to get as many NPCs to join their party as he can, mainly so Eddie can be 'part of their team' too, instead of 'just playing the bad guys'. Eddie tells him that's not how it works, but Steve's insistent.

In combat Steve WILL waste his potions of healing if one of the party annoyed him recently. Gareth was once rolling death saves, and Steve ignored him to heal a non fatal wound on NPC #24 instead. Gareth nearly walked out, but Will took pity on him and healed him on his turn.

It's a completely different atmosphere to the 'serious' campaign, but that's what makes it more fun. Even though Steve's main goal is to annoy the rest of Hellfire and prove that their nerdy game is supposed to be fun, they don't seem to actually mind.

In fact, they love it when Steve argues back with Eddie. None of them will do it, but the DM threats just don't work on Steve. He had to roll disadvantage all night? He rolls shit anyway. Threats to kill his character off? Steve doesn't care.

And on the other hand, flattery, flirting and outright bribery works so well on Eddie that it's kind of pathetic. Steve knows that Eddie wants him there and takes full advantage to get what the party wants.

Eddie refuses to let him join the main campaign because of it.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.7

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little

~

Nat quickly became your new internet best friend- if not your only friend. She started opening up her humor to you after you trauma dumped and in return, you began sending her memes as a symbol of your alliance. Occasionally she would humor you with a random picture of a sunset or a tree. You’d already known she lived somewhere in New York thanks to the area code on the phone number but you enjoyed experiencing the small window into her life and the fact that she was comfortable enough to send you those pictures.

It was a huge step in your friendship in your opinion.

The two of you began texting almost nightly, you would share something about how work was going (not the same job as before that one kind of um- fell to pieces-literally), and some nights you’d share how you felt about coming home and being alone all the time. She always listened and provided a substantial amount of comfort and advice- and though she never said anything you had a feeling maybe she was going through the same.

She never opened up as much as you did, although there was one brief mention of a single sibling. But the way it was phrased made you too afraid to ask her about it. You could feel how ice-cold the topic was from across the phone. You wondered if she regretted telling you or if she even realized she did.

—-

Nat loved her Avengers family with everything she had but there were some things she just couldn’t share with them. Talking to you- a kind of- complete stranger on the internet was almost therapeutic for her. Maybe it was just wishful thinking but even over text you had a warm and open energy about you. Maybe you wouldn’t judge her for everything she did-though you’d probably be biased based on your admiration for her. 

She wondered if you’d have that same energy in person. Wondered if you were the kind of person to talk with your hands or if you kept to yourself more. She knew plenty of people who were open over text and shy in person.

Sometimes you reminded her of Wanda. She thinks the two of you would get along. Not that you’d ever meet. You were Natasha’s secret guilty pleasure, and despite the small desire- she knew you two would never meet.

Without the heat of being “The intimidating Black Widow,” Nat felt more inclined to show you her more witty side, often ending in you sending a blurry picture of your middle finger or on one very specific occasion- A voice memo of you sneezing. Something about emphasizing your point of being “allergic to stupidity”.

She refused to admit she laughed at it for longer than she should have.

She told herself not to get too attached but in her line of work your overwhelming positivity and constant shenanigans were a welcome change from her often gloomy occupation.

Nat was used to texting you every other day by this point, when she began going on more frequent missions she found herself worrying that you would think she was ghosting you so she told you her work was complicated and sometimes required her to go offline for long periods of time. 

You told her you understood and sent her a meme about the economy before going into a long tangent about how jobs these days expected over achievement with minimal pay and it was outrageous. 

She didn’t quite understand why she was so worried about what you thought of her. Normally she wouldn’t care what anyone thought of her. The other Avengers were lucky if they got a text back from her on the same day- let alone more than a one-worded response.

She guessed maybe it was because she wasn’t used to hearing such good things about herself, the government was scared of what she could do (rightfully), the public had conflicting opinions about her- and most of the time it was only kids that looked at her without any fear or contempt. But you talked about how much you admired her bravery as an Avenger but also as a woman in such a public light with so much pressure on her shoulders. She was the first female Avenger after all.

One evening she made the mistake of telling you she didn’t think ‘Black Widow’ was all that. She had to sit through two hours of angry paragraphs from you and links to several videos of herself from the battle of New York and doing interviews for cable shows. She’d ended up apologizing and agreeing with you that she was the strongest Avenger.

 In reality, she sat on her bed for nearly an hour after your conversations with unshed tears she refused to let fall. That was the exact moment her heart had decided you weren’t a stranger to her anymore- and she didn’t have it in her to argue against it.

Your resilience was a trait she’d learned to admire, especially when it came to her… but not when it came to her choice of colored attire. 

        Y/n🍦:

Y/n🍦:

I’m seriously considering the

possibility of you being a robot.

What do you think?

Nat🔪:

I think you're an ass.

Y/n🍦:

I’m just saying-

gray is so monotone and you’re

Too fierce for that

Nat🔪:

So what color would you give me?

Y/n🍦:

Maybe black?

Hmmm

Nat🔪:

Wow, a striking upgrade

Why not just suggest dark gray?

Or how about light black?

Y/n🍦:

No, you’re obviously too

Sassy for black.

I’m thinking…

Red.

Your ability to perceive Nat through the screen never failed to amaze her. Truthfully she didn’t want to plaster her favorite color over everything because she was scared it would make things too personal. Too homey. But here you were guessing her favorite color just from her online personality. 

Truth be told, this was the most openly herself she’d been in a while. She wondered- if only briefly- if you could guess everyone’s favorite colors that easily-

or just hers.

Nat🔪:

Yeah. 

I can see it.

Nat couldn’t keep the grin from overtaking her face. 

You were something else, weren’t you? 

It was dangerous how easily you could brighten her day.

She found herself not caring as much as she usually would about that.

Pt.8

A/n: I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD!! Sorry I was gone for so long :( i'll keep updating this story as often as possible!!

-------

Taglist

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa

@natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal

@moistblobfish

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

The End of the Line

Summary: Out of all your missions, successful or not, none have managed to kill you yet. But you don't realise that even surviving them comes at a cost to your health, even if Jeff vows to make it better.

Word Count: 2261 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: not proof read, illness, death, and a very sad Jeff (angst) A/N: THIS IS NOT CANON TO THE JFU BY THE WAY. THIS IS NON-CANON!! it's not the best thing I've written and I lost motivation to write the middle section of this in full depth, so hopefully it all still makes sense. Hope you enjoy! :) (it's not canon!!)

"You should have gone to the doctor; I told you not to cancel it!"

"We had a mission, Nat. People needed saving. That's our job."

"You need saving.” Natasha sighs, her head in her hands, before she looks up at you. Pleading. “How far along is it?”

"It's one of the most common types; people survive it every day-"

"Y/N. How far along is it?"

Outside your bedroom, Jeff inches closer, sensing his parents' distress. He doesn’t like it when you argue, and he especially doesn’t like how upset Natasha seems to be. "It's too far for radiotherapy." He hears you mutter, your already low voice muffled further by the door. The suspense of knowing only half the story becomes too much for Jeff and he soon bursts into the room.

He sees you and Natasha sitting side by side on the bed: you with your hands in your lap, watching your own fingers fidget, while Natasha watches you, her bloodshot eyes scanning your face as if it’s the last time she can.

Determining who needs comfort most, Jeff trots towards Natasha and repeatedly butts at her legs, attempting to ease her worries. He may not be sure why she’s crying, but he knows he can make it better; he always makes things better. 

It seems to work when the assassin smiles at him through watery eyes, even picking him up and settling him on her lap. Jeff smiles back, proud to be of service, and happily purrs when Natasha strokes his head. She pets him quickly, to begin with, then slows until her hands stop right above Jeff’s earholes. Jeff continues to smile at her, hoping soon she will remember to keep stroking him and restore his hearing.

"Can you hear me, Jeff?" Natasha whispers. The land shark doesn’t reply but instead stares forward with a wide grin and lolled tongue, not giving any visible clues that he’d even noticed her speak. “Good.”

Natasha turns to you again, her expression graver now that Jeff can’t overhear. “I want you to be honest with me, Y/N, please, without tangents or deflections: what is the survival rate?”

That was the question you had been expecting and dreading since you first got your diagnosis; the answer is easy to find, and you know you can’t keep the truth from Natasha, but a small part of you wishes she would leave it be, that she hadn’t asked the question.

You wish that she never had to know.

But you can't always have that wish; this is happening, and you have to think about her, your wife. It's better for her to hear it from you.

"On average... 1 in 10."

A sharp inhale from Natasha; she is trying her best to keep it together, nodding for your sake. "And for you... Are you on the average?" You hear her voice shake but don't comment on it.

"They found it late. The odds are slimmer."

There is a long pause, and then Natasha breaks, a racking sob emerging as you wrap your arms around her. Jeff is not so clueless anymore, and despite Natasha's best efforts, he can tell there is something very, very wrong.

"Mrrr?" Jeff asks as he tilts his head towards you. Natasha releases him from her grasp, restoring his hearing and allowing him to walk in your direction.

You hold out your arms and let him cuddle closer before telling him the truth, “I’m sick, Jeff.” Tears fall sporadically onto his smooth head and you inhale sharply; it really is no easier to say a second time."I don't know if you even know what cancer is, but I'm gonna keep fighting it, try to stay with you and Nat, but… well, it's not guaranteed that I'll get better."

Jeff silently hops out of your lap and exits the room, leaving you worried that you've said too much…that he might be upset, angry, or just needing space to cope. Assuming the latter, you do nothing to stop him; you simply watch him leave. Natasha leans over and you wrap an arm around her shoulder; after a life of missions, countless bullet wounds, and a plethora of near-death scares, you never thought it would end like this.

The two of you are still in that position, contemplating the ironies of life, when Jeff returns. You suddenly sit up straight, relieved to have Jeff back but also bracing yourself to answer any questions he might have. But instead of that, the land shark trails a blanket behind him, while his favourite toy is balanced atop his head. He drops both in front of you before walking out once more.

Natasha reacts first, starting with a small chuckle, that grows into a full blown laugh when she meets your eye and sees you struggling not to do the same. Soon enough, the absurdity of the situation – especially after the gravity of the previous conversation – leads to you laughing along with your wife. You keep meeting her eyes in an attempt to ask a silent question of 'do you understand what's going on?', but it is clear her answer is 'no' and all you're accomplishing is reviving her laughter every time it reaches its dying stages.

Luckily, your confusion is put to rest just minutes later. Jeff pushes a large, locked, and recognisable tin of treats through the door – they are the special kind of treats that you usually reserve for when Jeff is ill, a small treat to help him feel better. The pieces click in your mind and you realise that the items Jeff brought are not as eclectic as you previously thought. The blanket, the toy, the treats – they are all the items you give to Jeff when he's sick.

"What's all this?" Natasha asks him. Her tone is still light, and she looks to you to share the amusement. You smile gently, but it is a surprise to you that she hasn't put the pieces together herself – it's rare for her to be trailing you in her understanding. The knowledge of your condition is still new to her, you remember, and you realise she has already pushed it from her mind, there would be no question about Jeff's actions otherwise. Natasha knows you are going to die. And she is refusing to believe it.

"Mrrrr!"

"He wants to make me okay again," you translate, and Natasha's previously joyous face falls when she's forced to remember. The expression pains you to watch so you turn to Jeff instead.

"Mrrrr?" he asks.

“Yeah, Jeff, yeah it’s working. I feel better already.” The land shark hums contentedly at your reassurance. “Now come on up, bud, are you sleepy? I am. We can take a nap together.”

“I’ll be outside,” Natasha murmurs, her expression still not lifted, “call if you need anything.” You note her sunken eyes and the worried frown and read it for what it is: a request for space, for you to allow her to process this.

You nod. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we Jeff?”

She reads that for what it is: a promise larger than this moment alone… and a lie.

As the months pass, changes in your life are inevitable: you ground yourself from field missions, the treatments and their side effects taking too great a toll for you to safely perform your job. But while your life has to change, the same is not true for Natasha and Jeff. Though they attempt to change their routines to suit you – Natasha offers to work from home, while Jeff proposes trips to other rooms in the house instead of the beach where he would rather be – you deny them both, hiding the true extent of your weakness in order that they keep living the life they deserve to live.

It works, for a time, Natasha still takes missions, Yelena takes Jeff when you're too weak to entertain him, and the team works better than ever in their assignment to keep you rested. But at your next check-up, you realise it was all in vain.

You’re given time to contemplate in the hospital, and you use it wisely: you think of Natasha and how you will tell her, knowing the second you do she’ll rush home and never leave your side again. You think of your life and everything leading to now – sure, there’s plenty more out there, but if the doctor is right, then you’re satisfied with what you’ve had. The life you’ve lived wasn’t bad at all. Finally, you think of Jeff, who is still so young; you ask the nurse to call Yelena, if the cancer is spreading then you want to spend every last second with Jeff and give him as many happy memories as you can.

The land shark in question barrels into you the moment you cross out of the hospital’s threshold; Yelena sprints forward to catch you, giving you stability while Jeff eagerly circles the two of you like he’s drawing a figure of eight. 

“Hello to you too, Jeff,” you laugh. You try to embed his contented purrs in your brain, forever wanting to live in that moment, crouched on the floor and scratching him behind his fin.

But then Yelena asks: “was it good news?” and reality comes crashing back down. 

It’s a funny thing, that moment. Around you visitors, patients, and workers all filter in and out, Jeff doesn’t notice a thing, still roaming happily, but for you – and for Yelena, since she knows as soon as your face falls – the answer to the Widow’s question slows time to a halt just so it can drain joy out of every molecule of your surroundings.

“Oh” is all Yelena says.

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe we should go to the car.”

Yelena wordlessly leads the way. Meanwhile, Jeff seems close to bursting with how much he has to tell you of his time at Yelena’s. After one nod, the floodgates open to spew what seems to be a minute-by-minute recount of the week.

“I remember that one, Jeff, I was still at home then,” you interrupt, but that only forces Jeff to restart from the beginning – you decide to stay quiet after that. In truth, Jeff’s narration is exactly what you need; the journey home would be silent otherwise with you staring out of the window, lost in thought, and Yelena driving, facing forwards, not knowing what to say or what to ask. The conversation would come – if not now then when Natasha returns – but for this moment, Jeff’s tale of losing his plush toy under Yelena’s bed makes for ample distraction. You could live that moment a thousand times over.

A soft ‘mrrr’ sounds again from just outside the hospital door, this time followed by a scratch, and then silence falls. Natasha knows she should get it – to let Jeff in and break him from a limbo he isn’t even aware he is in, but she can’t bring herself to do it, not when she knows what awaits him when the barrier of the door is removed. To him, your life is as certain as that of Schrödinger's cat, a fate unknown to the landshark; except Jeff’s thoughts rarely err on the side of realism and his optimistic tendencies generally benefit his perception…until they give him further to fall.

And yet, when he whines again, when the nurse goes to open the door for him, and even when he comes barrelling down the ward to see you, Natasha stays frozen in place, doing nothing to stop his inevitable realisation.

Your heart had stopped eleven minutes before.

“Mrrrr?” Jeff greets, nuzzling at your leg. You don’t reply. He notices Natasha sob, but thinks nothing of it, she had been crying more over the past few weeks. 

“Mrrr?” he tries again; you had been growing weaker, but still mustered the energy to reach for him whenever he was allowed to visit, unless you were asleep. So he turns to Natasha, she cannot understand him the same way you do, but signing allows her a base level understanding of his language. He nudges first to get her attention, then waves a hand down his face: ‘Asleep?’

Natasha’s sobs suddenly get heavier, jolting Jeff but ultimately spurring him into action to comfort his other parent: ‘are you okay?’. The assassin takes a deep, shaky breath, but wipes her eyes and nods.

"Y/N, um, they are asleep…in a way." Staring into Jeff's hopeful eyes only brings more tears to Natasha's own; she has to look away, her eyes falling to watch as she spins the ring on her finger. "You remember how we said that a time might come where one of us isn't around anymore? If Y/N's sickness didn't go away?"

Jeff nods.

"Well that's happened. Y/N's asleep and they-" her voice cracks- "they're not going to be waking up. Y/N is gone, Jeff. They're gone." Through blurry eyes, Natasha risks a glance back to Jeff, only to see his whole body drooped like never before and the hope – the belief that had inspired you to keep fighting throughout the whole illness – was gone from his eyes.

"Mrrrr?"

"I…I don't know what you're saying, Jeff, I'm sorry, that was always…" Natasha trails off, not willing to accept you were gone just yet.

Jeff mrrs again; he signs as he goes but his hands fly faster then Natasha can comprehend, at least in this state. 'I failed' she catches before he turns to where you rest, 'I'm sorry'.

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character @wolferine

[music-parallels]

Yellowjackets + Song Parallels

"Sailor Song" - Gigi Perez

Jackieshauna/Shackie + Lottielee + Taivan

...

Side Tangent:

I almost didn't put in Taivan but I realized that they, out of everyone, encompass what happens after the song. The song begs for someone to weather the storm with them, for theirs to be a love that withstands everything like a sailor on a boat. For all intents and purposes, Tai and Van did that. They found someone to be in love with in a homophobic small town in 1996. But they didn't last, they broke up. Jut like everyone else, they never moved on, not really. However, unlike everyone else, they've had their chance and they also still have time. When the storm came back around they found each other again. Lottie and Shauna? They're still begging for their loves. Also Tai could have easily ended up like Lottie and Shauna because Van was almost the first to die in the wilderness several times. It's like fate is catching up to her by giving her cancer and then Tai will be like Lottie and Shauna.

I also thought of doing Lottienat but I am kind of a firm believer that regardless if Lottie and Nat end up having something in their youth before the 2021 timeline, Laura Lee was Lottie's first love. If anything, Nat was her second. That doesn't diminish Lottie and Nat's relationship, if there was one. It's just different and equally valid.

(The parallels between Jackieshauna and Lottielee are fucking insane. Shauna was pulling herself away from Jackie and Lottie was clinging to Laura Lee. Lottie was always pointed at as the "crazy" one, even by Shauna and yet Shauna was having hallucinations of Jackie. Laura Lee was burning in her last moments and you can see her accept her death in the moment itself, Jackie was freezing in her last moments and she accepted her death long before it actually happened. Parallel lines and they both ended up the same way.)

[ynscrazylife]

if you still do avengers reqs, what would the avengers and y/n talk about in the avengers resident groupchat? y/n!stark x peter 🙏🙏

The Avengers Groupchat Would Include . . . 

Let’s start off with who’s in this groupchat: you (obviously), Peter, Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, Clint, Wanda, Sam, Thor, Scott, Vision & Carol (Rocket was in the chat but he got kicked out, Ayo’s in there but she doesn’t chat much, Nebula would be there but she doesn’t get how to use a phone, Rhodey has better things to do than be in there)

Let’s be honest, Carol did not see the sense in her being there because there’s not gonna be WiFi throughout the galaxy.

“LTE, Carol!” — You, probably

Thor also didn’t really get it because there’s not WiFi on Asgard, but he’s too kind to say no

Naming the groupchat was hell. Every second, someone would change it (usually either you, Peter, or Sam) until Tony put his foot down and programmed FRIDAY to make it so no one could change it from “Avengers”

Natasha’s usually the one who sends reminders about training

Steve will send reminders about meetings 

Lots of pictures of each other are sent, mostly when they don’t know photos are being taken of them

The conversations range from someone asking what people want from the grocery store (Scott goes on grocery runs) to fierce debates over who’s the better fighter (It’s Nat, no one can beat her in sparring)

Tony will ask you and Peter if your homework is done (which you both annoyed, then Natasha yells at you)

It’s best to silence the notifications because they’re too, too much

Regular FaceTimes are a thing even though you’re usually all in the same tower

“Thor, your video cuts out when you go over Heimdall’s bridge.”

Wanda and Vision usually ask if they can double date with anyone (ends up being Scott and Hope or you and Peter)

Peter will send cute pictures of you that the Avengers ADORE. He’s tickling you? He’s recording a video. You fell asleep? He’s taking a picture.

“Peter, you’re not tickling her right. You have to get her knees.” — Tony

“DAD, STOP!”

Clint’s kids love to take his phone to chat with the Avengers

And they LOVE chatting with them

“Auntie Nat, when are you visiting!” “Soon!!”

Sam and Peter both send lots of memes

“I don’t get it.” — Steve

Bruce doesn’t talk much but you know who’s a great texter? THE HULK

Hulk is the king of keyboard smashes

“RERRRHDHDHSJSJS”

“Someone get Nat to do the lullaby.”

Hulk has smashed Bruce’s phone on multiple occasions tho

“Should I invent armor for Bruce’s phone?” — Tony

Yelena will steal Nat’s phone to troll the chat

Clint sends updates on his farm

Pepper will confiscate Tony’s phone when he needs to work so she’ll end up chatting

Everyone loves chatting to Pepper

Tony managed to get wifi on Carol’s ship so she’ll send updates from space

Thor tries to text, it doesn’t go great

When badgered by Natasha, Ayo will text

Nebula has occasionally hopped onto the group chat when Peter Q helps her

The group chat was SO ACTIVE when you and Peter went to prom

They were spamming the entire time, asking for pictures and updates and telling ya’ll not to drink

If anyone’s sitting out of a mission (usually you and Peter), they’ll text in the group chat to annoy those who are on the mission

“WE ARE DEEP UNDERCOVER SHUT THE FUCK UP” - Natasha

Getting Nat to swear in the group chat isn’t rare but it is dangerous

ALSO TEXTING STYLES

Vision, Ayo, and Steve text with perfect grammar, short and to the point (Steve has a tendency to go on tangents, though).

Tony’s style switches constantly depending on his mood

Natasha, Sam, Wanda, you, and Peter text with abbreviations and lowercase sometimes

Carol usually sends photos, not many texts. She’ll occasionally send an lol or lmao.

Scott is always cheerful. He uses lots of smiley faces.

Tony will put an ironic amount of obnoxious emojis.

Clint’s tired and his texting reflects that. As short as possible usually.

There’s always something chaotic going on

But there’s also some of the funniest moments

Typos? SAM WILL HARP ON YOU

So will Natasha

The Avengers are a family and they love each other so much, it’s definitely represented in the groupchat

[reidslibrarybook]

i'm quite literally MANIC reading my stuff. who cooked here . because it wasn't me

[dianessunflower]

Art in The Good Fight (2017-2022) - Part 2

part 1 here:

this part 2 is mostly about s6, because i think you can really track what the art is doing for story and character. so, let's get into it!!

still mad the new partner Ri'Chard took away this beauty, but they're forgiven for 603's art history references.

in the scene with the Dr, Diane mentions Landscape with the Fall of Icarus, originally attributed to Pieter Bruegel the Elder (oil on canvas, c. 1560). it's in the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium in Brussels.

this is absolutely fascinating, because the composition of the painting is original—to give prominence to the 'low' subject matter, being the agricultural figure, rather than Icarus, to whom Diane is drawn. this is called 'Mannerist inversion' (yes i screamed, i'm a nerd).

this piece is brilliantly used this ep. Icarus, small, drowns unnoticed by everyone else. death happens all the time, and we move on. i'm reminded of Diane's sane little corner. the world is oblivious to the tragedy of hubris, concerned only with themselves. seems apocalyptic...

which leads me to my next point. behind the Dr is a Jean Andran engraving of a painting called Winter, part of a Seasons series now in the Louvre by Nicolas Poussin from the 1660s. and what does it depict? the flood. 100% premonition of impending death.

i love that *someone* has done their NY homework and seen that Guggenheim Hilma af Klint exhibit (i am not jealous at all), because also in the Dr's office is af Klint's Tree of Knowledge, No. 5 (Kunskapens träd, nr 5), from the 1915 W Series.

for various reasons, af Klint was for a long time ignored in favour of Kandinsky, Mondrian, Kupka etc in modern Western nonrepresentational art (also her queerness 🍵). her work has two overlapping levels, one biographical and one relating to the history of humanity.

the Tree of Knowledge series is part of her series of 193 Paintings for the Temple, which was af Klint's vision for the future as given to her by a spiritual medium, to depict 'the immortal aspects of man'. hence, she uses iconography from Christianity and Hinduism.

each piece in the Tree of Knowledge series is a variation on a theme, a tree with a heart-shaped crown. and there's a progression to the biblical allusion to Genesis symbolising innocence to fall from Grace, but there are also organic forms and ornate details.

the Tree of Knowledge (of Good and Evil) is usually paired with the

symbol of the Tree of Life, and in af Klint's work, signals binaries melding into unity. but the tree also signals Buddhism (the fig tree), the Tau/life force, the Arasa Maram in Hinduism.

the colours have meaning, yellow for female and blue for male. put them together and it becomes green, and the colours have become purer. this is No. 5, so the white radiations that were pale rose-coloured in No. 4 are now inverted.

af Klint probably knew Rudolf Steiner's colour meanings—yellow as spirit, blue as soul. green as the lifeless image of the living, peach-blossom the living image of the soul. white as the soul's image of the spirit, black as the spiritual image of the lifeless (cf swans).

the 12 sections in the top lotus leaf crown seem to represent the zodiac, months. also, there's a multi-coloured, lobed 'cross' in the small box middle-right, which maybe suggests the first awakening of the higher self?? compare this to the unity of colourful two birds in the bottom circle. there's a lot to be said about how this art represents how humans navigate their smallness in the world.

as seen on 604 in Diane's office, this is Street Musicians, by the American artist Norman Lewis (oil on canvas, 1948). part of the post-war movement.

from 605, i have identified some of the pieces Ri'Chard chose for the office, and they were clearly chosen for reasons. (unfortunately i couldn't find Liz's but i love the home decor and don't doubt this was also carefully chosen.)

this is by Kara Walker, known for room-size tableaux of black cut-paper silhouettes. her work illustrates the origins & legacy of slavery in the American South. i suspect there's a Civil War reference too. the 1994 piece riffs on Gone With The Wind (MOMA).

i really love this one. this is Holy Mountain II by Horace Pippin, a self-taught artist post WW1. he was influenced by Edward Hicks, a Quaker minister who painted interpretations of Isaiah’s biblical prophecy of world peace and harmony in nature (Peaceable Kingdom, c 1830-32).

though the gatherings seem tranquil, the Holy Mountain series is very dark. poppies, soldiers, grave markers, a limp body hanging from a tree... Holy Mountain I refers to D-Day, Holy Mountain II to Pearl Harbor Day, & Holy Mountain III (Smithsonian) to Nagasaki.

so there are parallels between WW1/Civil War, but it is also very Eden-esque. i rather like that the pastoral figure in a white dress with the yellow cheetah is the centre focus. all very biblical, which fits right in with Ri'Chard's style. Pippin himself stated that,

"'Holy Mountain' came to my mind because the whole world is in such trouble, and in reading the Bible (Isaiah 11:6) it says that there will be peace in the land. If a man knows nothing but hard times he will paint them, for he must be true to himself, but even that man may have a dream, an ideal and 'Holy Mountain' is my answer to such dreaming."

i was thinking about how much gold Ri'Chard brought into the office in the context of his Brand™ (1 & 2 old decor, 3 & 4 new, but none identified yet oop)

there are other etchings in the Dr's office: top: 'Rotherhithe' by James McNeill Whistler from the Thames Set (1860, V&A) bottom: 'Clearing a wreck on the north coast of Cornwall' by Thomas Rowlandson (c 1809-1822, British Museum).

Dr Dude likes ships that's all i can say 🤷‍♀️ but actually i think there's something interesting about all the Flood references in the Dr's office, like Diane is drowning. possibly, there's a subtle allusion to a very famous painting, Le Radeau de la Méduse, by Théodore Géricault (1818-19, oil on canvas, Louvre).

this is an icon of French Romanticism, depicting the aftermath of the wreck of the French naval frigate Méduse, which ran aground off the coast of what is now Mauritania on 2 July 1816. what's so interesting about this painting is that it presents ordinary people, rather than heroes, reacting to the unfolding drama. as Christine Riding says, the painting represents,

"the fallacy of hope and pointless suffering, and at worst, the basic human instinct to survive, which had superseded all moral considerations and plunged civilised man into barbarism."

by 607, Diane's office art has changed to a piece called Three Tumblers by Daniel Clarke (2018), perhaps a reference to her revolving office bar. also did we notice her flower obsession has dulled a little? but there are still orchids all around the office. i'll leave you to google the meaning of the original Greek word 👀

elsewhere in the office, FIRES abound on the digital screen in the conference room. flood, fire…and?

where there's a mansion, there's sure to be art (609): Asher Brown Durand, Landscape—Scene from "Thanatopsis" (1850, Met); Max Ferdinand Bredt, In the Courtyard of the Harem; John Frederick Lewis, Intercepted Correspondence (1869).

in 609 when same sex marriage is overturned (and Christine Baranski's acting chops is on full show with her shocked face), the image on the tv screen is Witch burning in Regenstein, Saxony-Anhalt, 1555. It's a wood engraving after an original printed on flyleaf (Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Nuremberg).

frankly there's a lot of misinformation about witch trials, not least of which is that they happened a lot later than most people think (ie. not the medieval period). the early modern period 16-17th centuries were the height of the European witchcraft trials.

and it was an ongoing, systematic persecution that resulted from the targetting of Christian heretics and Jews throughout the 14th century, and gradually both the church and scholars became more and more obsessed with demonology. it was really about the 'other', the concern about the loss of a certain way of life.

Diane, of course, calls herself a wench, so i think it's interesting that her s6 arc eventuates with her heading up a female-only law firm in DC working on women's rights and Roe v Wade. i dislike the way that the word 'witchhunt' is misappropriated like other historical terms in modern contexts, but it's probably fair to call the current backsliding on women's rights a witchhunt. so i love this double meaning.

finally, i wanted to return to how Diane's office art tracks her journey. the Surrealist art was the tone of the show throughout. but the violence seeped into the everyday and everyone just got used to it. hence the second painting is war (contrast the flowers).

but then Diane chooses to stop PT108. almost immediately, a bullet lands on the realist painting of a woman (where does she end up? in Washington DC fighting the good fight for women).

the violence doesn't end there. and then the office literally explodes & you can see a painting is off-centre. which seems like a good metaphor for where the world is at.

so yeah, the progression in Diane's office from Peony Girl to Post-War to a painted version of Chris is just chef's kiss. the way it tracks her psyche in s6? i'm obsessed.

[vivalas-vega]

Hello again! It's Syd 🥰🩷

I sent an ask a few days ago but I just saw your post about sending more so here I am! (& good luck on your journey quitting vape, you got this!! 🩷)

Here's an idea:

(Could be with bob, nat, jake, roost, it's up to you really) Reader just got home from work and starts rambling about work gossip with her partner while getting undressed to take a shower. The partner stops paying attention to the story as she lifts her shirt and takes off her pants, ogling at the brand new set of lingerie they had never seen her wearing before.

Reader is busy walking around the room gathering her skin care products & pajamas while going off on a tangent about a particularly annoying coworker. Noticing her partner isn't responding, she playfully asks "are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?", finally turning to find her lover on the edge of the bed with a dreamy look on their slightly flushed face, reaching for her as they ask "is that a new set...?"

Could be just fluffy with a hint of suggestive or smutty😌 feel free to change it anyway you want it!

hello !!! thank you so much for sending this request in and I'm so sorry that it took me an unreasonable amount of time to post !!! but, my first Bob fic ! this just screamed Bob to me, I took some creative liberties but I hope I did your request justice!

focus / bob floyd x reader

word count: 1k (short and sweet!)

warnings: a little spicy at the end but otherwise pretty pg-13!

“Bob, you home?” you asked, shutting the front door behind you as you dropped your keys in the bowl and slipped out of your heels and coat. Excitement had been radiating throughout your body, threatening to rattle you apart from the inside out the entire drive home. You were sitting on a rather juicy piece of intel you’d been counting down the seconds to be able to share with your partner… the first and usually only person you told anything and everything.

“Bedroom, honey!” You heard him call out and you raced down the hallway, bursting into the room with sheer glee written all over your face. “Good day at work?” he asked, amusement creeping into his tone.

“No, not at all actually. Remember that case I’ve been working on I regretfully cannot tell you anything about? Client withheld something major and I spent the entirety of my day reworking the whole thing… after I’d just done that yesterday.”

“Then what has you so excited?” He watched as you took off your watch and earrings, delicately placing them in their respective homes atop your dresser. The book he’d been reading was abandoned the second he heard your voice echo throughout your shared home. If you were even remotely in his presence there was nothing else that could hold his focus, not that he would have wanted anything else to take precedence over you anyways.

“So, in the break room today I overheard something I definitely wasn’t supposed to, regarding a certain coworker and her husband.” you started, eyebrows raised as you watched the excitement on his face mirror your own as he shifted down the bed to listen with rapt attention.

“Please tell me this is about Denise,” he almost begged. This particular saga of workplace drama was a personal favorite of you two.

“Oh, is it ever. She was on the phone with her husband in very hushed tones arguing about the pick up and drop off schedule for their kids when she suddenly said ‘this has nothing to do with him’.” you continued, placing your blazer in the hamper.

“Him, as in the kids tutor, right?” he asked and you nodded. 

“Mmhm,” you confirmed. “But the real pièce de résistance of this story is who made an impromptu stop by the office today… with flowers.” You’d already discarded your silk camisole and were sliding your favorite slacks off… a beautiful shade of emerald green fitted perfectly to your body before flaring out and creating the illusion your legs were a mile long. They weren’t just your favorite though, and you were completely unaware of the way Bob’s eyes tracked their movement down your curves into their puddle on the floor where you bent over to pick them up and he suddenly felt as if the room had gotten warmer.

“Is that so?” he asked, while his attention was hung on your every word a few moments ago, if you’d asked him any follow up questions on what you’d just said he’d have no response… he was far more interested in the black lace adorning your body, particularly in the fact that it was unrecognizable to him.

“Mmhm,” you hummed again, still blind to the way your boyfriend was looking at you as you moved around the room, lost in your after-work routine of shedding your work persona before your shower. “It’s as if she’s unaware of the fact that we all know, or maybe she is aware and just doesn’t care. It’s incredibly ballsy. You know, I actually like her husband, of course I know nothing of their home life and I know better than anyone the public façade can be polar opposite from the reality behind closed doors but he does seem like one of the good ones.” You’d paused for his response, expecting agreement or a snarky quip but when you were met with silence you turned around to find his eyes far lower than you anticipated. “Bob? Are you even listening to me?” you asked, pretending to be annoyed but really you were anything but as you saw the lovesick look on his face.

His head snapped up, eyes wide like a man caught, “sorry sweetheart, I just… is this a new set?” he asked, swallowing harshly as his hands reached out and caught your hips, tugging you to stand in between his legs. He was looking up at you with pure adoration, the kind that knocked all the air from your lungs and rendered you almost speechless. Your first meeting by chance at the Hard Deck all those months ago had done nothing to prepare you for the man before you… timid glances and bashful smiles, earnest conversation and a chaste kiss to your cheek after walking you to your car. There was nothing timid or bashful about him now, nothing chaste about the way his fingers trailed up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his eyes raked your form, fire burning within those blue eyes.

“It might be,” you teased, moving to straddle his thighs and his arms were quick to cage themselves around you, locking you in place and keeping you from falling backwards.

“And you expect me to give a damn about Denise when you’re parading around this room looking like this?” he asked, pressing kisses along the column of your neck.

You gripped his jaw, pulling his face back and forcing him to look at you. “You’re damn right I do.” you shot back, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“My apologies, ma’am, but I’m afraid your beauty is a bit distracting.” he replied, pulling your hand away and kissing the inside of your wrist. “Besides… I think my attention would be better served elsewhere.” he added before continuing his path up your arm and to your collarbone where you couldn’t help but tilt your head back, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“I think you might be right,” you agreed, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his head back to press your lips to his. The previous topic was entirely forgotten now with your excitement channeled directly towards the man beneath you… the one person you wanted to share everything with and the one person who could make you gladly abandon anything and everything for.

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through it means I couldn't tag you, sorry!)

[henrysglock]

[Lumax voice] Turn Around, Look At What You See! In Their Face...

(If you couldn't already tell: I have finally lost all my marbles.)

I'm sure this has occurred to other people by now, but if El's memories leading up to the 4.07 monologue are ripped directly from Brenner's (<- slayful Nat post, required viewing), and she runs in to see One killing Two...then doesn't it stand to reason that that is what Brenner saw when he ran into the Rainbow Room in 1979?

Now before anyone hops in to correct me: There's definitely a version of things where Brenner finds El alone in the rainbow room after the massacre. That's not in question. We all know that happened at some point.

(Regardless of the manner of death...no broken bones or gouged eyes...okay!)

However, as I'm sure we're all aware...these guys are different guys.

(This detail has been beaten into the ground but always bears repeating)

So, what is in question is what close-up Brenner saw when he ran into the Rainbow Room.

Those duplicate memories appear to belong to close-up Brenner:

i.e. not the Brenner who runs in and sees El at the start of 4.08. (This isn't to say that that Brenner doesn't have those memories or similar ones, but he's not the Brenner whose memories are being featured. Begone, thot.)

So, arguably, if El has close-up Brenner's memories...then she should be running in and seeing what he saw, no?

So what did he see? Someone just slightly shorter than him, who walked close enough to warrant a tight shot.

That POV (as has been discussed ad nauseam by many) is far too tall to be any version of El:

But it is about the right height for someone a few inches shorter than Brenner...something like:

So, tl;dr: I want to play a clip for you.

I love choreography and camera work. That's art right there.

However, that video doesn't include the subtitling that accompanies the visuals that link El finding One to Brenner finding El:

Now, it's difficult to compare anything after this point (though not impossible, can't keep a south Wisconsin boy down. I will be using them for comparisons later)...because of course that's when weird, random blood starts appearing:

Hence, the clock is visibly frozen after that point:

This smacks, to me, of the same kind of shit that happened with 004 when the kids were bullying El—Scenes that never actually happened in the real past being spliced into a tape that cuts off and then picks back up like no time had passed/nothing had been spliced in. It makes more sense if you read the post I linked, since the video in that post makes my point clearly.

< TANGENTIALLY RELATED >

The anime nerd in me is tempted to liken this whole deal ^ to JJBA/DIO's time-stopping stand "The World" in...that's right...Stardust Crusaders, wherein DIO pause time for everyone but himself, which I'm certain others have done as well.

Tbqh...I'm still here:

Specifically a reference to The World/DIO vs Star Platium/Jotaro, both of which are time-stopping stands...(Much to think about irt Jotaro/Star Platinum developing time-stopping powers later on in terms of El, sure, but also in terms of "Everything was hard for [One]...He walked in here, and it was like something had changed. He told me he had figured it out.").

[Distant screaming as I'm forcefully prevented from going on a "Stardust Spider-Stardust Crusaders-Dio Brando-Joestar Family-Dio's Bone-Green Baby-Green, Green Grass of Home" tangent in this post...and don't get me started on DIO's regen healing/vampirism from the ancient stone mask...don't get me started on King Crimson and Golden Experience Requiem either...]

Not to mention the DIO reference with One linking this scene to (you guessed it) Edward Munson:

Edward Creel proven once again, but this time it's via goddamn JJBA and Brenner fuckery. (And yes, yes, I know about DIO the band. This ain't about her. Things can have multiple meanings. It was a Choice to associate Henward with DIO and Eddie with DIO. I rest my case.)

< ANYWAY, TANGENTS ASIDE >

As I said earlier, close-up Brenner is shot at a distance baby El could never have achieved. She passes out on the far side of the room, entirely too far away to have been anywhere near close enough for a close-up of Brenner's face, height aside.

However, ignoring the blood fuckery and disappearing gate cracks:

Some-One else has enough energy left to walk towards the doors. All the way over, in fact. So while those close-up shots are 100% out of range for post-gate baby El, they're very much in-range for 3:46 PM One.

Tl;dr: It's entirely possible, if not likely (based on the choreography and camera-work in these scenes) that close-up/angry Brenner was addressing One rather than baby El.

[hazelfoureyes]

Do you think you could do a male version of the radioapple is the safe word? Or maybe just a gender neutral pronouned story? I adore it so much

of course! I am happy to adapt my stories whenever possible 🥺✨ sometimes I can’t but this one was an easy enough shift! didn’t tag the horny deer cult, this is the same story but with the hardware swapped out. Will tag in new pieces 🙏 warning; I almost exclusively watch femboy gay porn and it shows

The Safeword is RadioApple (Part 1)

(RadioApple x MaleReader)

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, male reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, asshole hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

MINORS DNI BRUH

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.” 

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more. 

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue.  Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly. 

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker. 

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. 

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed him.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder. 

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my boy.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest,  hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you. 

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission. 

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises. 

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest. 

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. Your own cock twitched under your robe at the feeling.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants. 

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap. 

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.” 

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, hole soft and ready for him already, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men. 

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek. 

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible. 

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft.  He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Your cock hard and bouncing with every thrust. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? He can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself. 

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.” 

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your tight heat. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it. 

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms. 

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands. 

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time– 

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself. 

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again. 

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your dick, now pulsing under his hand. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your g-spot with every kiss of his hips. 

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your face tighten. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. His hands working your shaft, fingers ghosting over your balls and head with every stroke up and down. 

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed, your own release sticky and already cooling under you.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you. 

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed and stretched hole. 

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci. 

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide in and out of your with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it. 

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your ass, teasing your entrance with every pass. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn. 

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway. 

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon. 

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling dear. 

 What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were worried you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your bullied boy cunt got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths. 

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead. 

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt. 

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected. 

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would roll back, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so sticky wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper. 

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If he needs you to stop, he’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever he can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your muscles clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing his stomach to rut against your returning erection as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more. 

“Are you sure he isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel him? Or does he just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You unconsciously tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back. 

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before, stomach lurching into your chest with the impact.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were covered in oil and cum, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock opening parts of you never before reached. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning. 

You could feel him spreading open your body, soft walls helpless to resist his raging member. The feeling of your silky boy cunt sliding along his cock, your tight hole gripping him, was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Wails that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your body trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised ass.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you. 

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

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