#the writing isn't on their side unfortunately

[voluptuarian]

I'm trying to avoid people's dumb takes on Nosferatu but I keep being exposed to the tip of the iceberg and am annoyed enough about it to rant about it.

There's nothing in there that implies she was a kid. She lived in her family home, in the room she had lived in her whole life-- very typical for an unmarried adult woman at the time, especially in a well off family. Everyone determined that this had to be Orlok "grooming" a "child" are just fixated on that interpretation because it's nasty-sounding enough that they can condemn the relationship as "irredeemable" and "problematic" without sounding like pearl-clutchers. It's the magic word that lets them look vindicated in writing the whole thing off. She's not played by a child, she is dressed and styled as an adult, and the needs she's expressing, for attention, for recognition, for physical and emotional intimacy, are in no way limited to children. She's a young woman yearning for things that everybody wants and she's been denied. Ellen having been neglected, lonely, and starved for affection doesn't negate her adulthood. Her walking into a bad situation as a result of all that doesn't make her "groomed." Plenty of grown adults wind up in bad relationships because they're naive and desperate for love.

Similarly, everyone determined that one side of the triangle here wasn't "real" or that she "actually" only felt a connection with one of them and nothing for the other is similarly ridiculous. Thomas is the relationship Ellen chooses intentionally and conscientiously and which provides her the future she wants while satisfying her physical and emotional desires in a safe, secure, loving environment. Orlok is the first love, the first major relationship that she fell into because she was reckless and desperate for affection, that at first satisfied her needs but turned sour and dangerous-- that relationship becoming scary, unpleasant, coercive, doesn't erase the good things they had together once. Ellen and Orlok is the bad breakup between people who's freak matched too well. In the normal world it'd be a bad breakup with a toxic partner; in hers he's unfortunately also a an amoral inhuman manifestation of consumption.

And as for "Orlok doesn't love Ellen blah blah he's only an appetite blah blah." Love is an appetite. Need is an appetite. Loneliness is an appetite unmet. It's all hunger!! Why the FUCK is a zillion year old ghoul aristocrat holed up in a ruin in Eastern Europe tuned in enough to immediately respond to the random calls of some nameless unimportant woman he's never met a thousand miles away?? Because he's as desperate as she is, and for similar things. He was already listening, was already looking for someone-- he was desperate and searching first. His needs are twisted because he's a literal monster, but they still echo hers. The freak is matched, the freak in this case being deep emptiness and desire to be wanted and embraced. Unfortunately for him, Ellen can look elsewhere to satisfy those desires when he no longer makes her happy and find people who will-- and she does. Orlok can only go where he is called, must be chosen under special circumstances, which, seemingly out of everyone within his considerable reach, only she has offered. If what Orlok feels isn't love, its the survival in his mockery of life of what would have been love. But what ends in real love with union, ends for him with destruction and a return to lonely solitude-- that's his curse.

Ellen saves the man she chose by rejecting their future together, by breaking their marriage vows, and by sacrificing herself. She chooses the sacrifice as an act of autonomy, but one that subverts her own desires and victimizes her. It's a tragedy, but it's also a victory. It's a succumbing to the predations of the lover who wouldn't let her go, but its also making peace with him, taking into her embrace a figure she hates and fears but still feels connected to. It's fulfilling the monster's insatiable need, granting him the union he craves the only way it can be: through his death. Orlok is loved, and betrayed, and saved. Thomas is loved, and betrayed, and saved. Ellen chooses love for both of them, betrays them both, saves them both, betrays and saves herself. All of those things can be happening at once, just as tenderness, rejection, repulsion, evil, and love can all be happening at once. Is it comfortable? No. That's the point! But expressing your discomfort with that story as "I will willfully misinterpret this movie and dismiss its themes in whatever most easy to excuse way I can because I feel uncomfortable" is the path of the hack and the coward, and I think that's the what the majority of these "takes" are really about.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

So to make a long story semi short; during fall term a couple unknowing found a set of mastodon teeth and brought to my anthropology professor at the college, since then they conducted some field work and found more bone. They obviously stopped because of winter but in summer the college will be offering a field work class to go help at the site. I want to do that, but as mentioned before I have Cerebral Palsy which means I don't have a lot of upper body strength or flexibility. But I can still do a lot. My I guess problem is my Professors respect me and that's hard for me to get with all the ableism and I worked hard these last two semesters to break out of my shell to get here , I guess I just don't want to 1. make a fool of myself 2. be a hindrance and/or mess something up

any advice?

This sounds like an incredible opportunity, and I would definitely encourage you to pursue it! I hear your concerns about embarrassing yourself and being a hindrance, but I think you should reframe your thinking around facts that 1) everybody deserves learning experiences regardless of their physical ability, and 2) there are things you can do that will be an asset to the excavation.

Some of these things include taking notes and photographs, documenting and storing finds, and working with any digital tools like GPS units. You may also be able to do lab work and different kinds of analysis, depending on what they find and how they run the program. A good supervisor (although not all are created equal) will be willing to work with you to come up with a plan for how you can participate and what that will look like.

Usually, classes like this have applications where students list their relevant coursework and write a brief personal statement about why they want to participate. There are a couple of ways you could go about this in regards to disclosing your disability and seeking accommodations. You can either:

Disclose early: this would entail including something about your disability in your personal statement, in an email to the professor running the dig, etc.

Disclose later: submit your application without mentioning your disability. Feel free to mention how hard you've worked to get where you are, and if you want to talk about vague challenges with your health as part of that, it's up to you. If you are accepted to the dig, ask for a meeting with the supervisor where you can then explain your needs and what you are able to do.

Generally, I advise erring on the side of disclosing later rather than earlier. As I'm sure you're aware, prejudice and implicit bias are unfortunately a thing, and sometimes the only way to protect yourself from those impeding your application is to withhold information (although obviously this isn't an option if the professor already knows you). Additionally, you have legal protections against discrimination that are much easier to enforce after you have been accepted.

That being said, I've been heartened to see that more and more people in archaeology spaces are thinking about what accessibility means in field settings and how to include people with disabilities.—perhaps this is also the case with whoever is running this dig. Archaeology is for everyone, and there are many roles in an excavation for someone who can't do physical labor.

Finally, I'll close with some resources that might be helpful.

The Disabled Archaeologists Network: while I don't think they have a ton of programming for undergraduates (yet), membership is free and can put you in touch with

Field Tested: an article about a disabled student who was able to participate in a geology field school (similar levels of work to an archaeology one). It discusses some of the accommodations the student needed, and what they were able to do.

Here's an article by Dr. Anita Marshall, the professor who ran that accessible field school. Its content isn't substantially different from the one I linked above, but at the end it also cites some good literature about accessibility in field work. You should be able to access a lot of those publications through your institution's library or @jstor's free (or institutional) service.

Good luck, -Reid

[poppyquills]

hello!

i was scrolling through the donna x reader tags and saw your requests were open! could you perhaps write for donna and a reader who's abnormally tall? like maybe some super natural effect or growth defect or something of the sort caused the reader to be like 7'5" or whatever that is in the metric system? (i'm unfortunately from the land of screeching bald eagles and a McDonald's every corner)

anyways, thank you for your time! I enjoy the way you format your writings and all the nice aesthetic of them! have a good day!

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ Donna with an abnormally tall! S/O HCs ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

⋆˚✿˖° warnings -> none.

⋆˚✿˖° content includes -> fluff, Donna doesn't find it weird at all, the reason why reader is so tall is up to the reader.

⋆˚✿˖° Donna is quite fascinated by how tall you are and she isn't weirded out by how abnormally tall you are, her 'sister' is also abnormally tall so she has grown used to it.

⋆˚✿˖° She enjoys sewing and tailoring and she would personally make all of your clothes for you. Donna takes special care to adjust the lengths and sizes, ensuring that you’re always comfortable.

⋆˚✿˖° Donna feels safe and secure with you. She is a lord and she can take care of herself perfectly fine but having you by her side and towering over her just brings her a sense of comfort.

⋆˚✿˖° She loves how easily you can reach things for her. Donna sometimes feels bad for calling you over every time she isn't able to reach something but you always assure you don't mind it.

⋆˚✿˖° Donna likes the fact that she could easily hide behind you when you two go into the village—which is very rare itself but it still happens.

⋆˚✿˖° She is a touch starved woman so she likes holding onto you whenever she can. Donna loves holding your hand or letting you hold her, she wouldn't admit it but she loves the size difference between the two of you.

⋆˚✿˖° Angie loves to make jokes about your height. Donna usually lets it pass since it's always in good fun but when she's apart of the joke? Donna gets flustered and embarrassed immediately.

⋆˚✿˖° She herself isn't one to joke around but she would occasionally tease you about your height. She will stop it immediately if it makes you uncomfortable though!

⋆˚✿˖° Donna sometimes catches herself staring at you, getting embarrassed when you point it out. She can’t help but admire you, she also finds your height difference incredibly attractive but she would never admit it to anyone.

⋆˚✿˖° She enjoys quiet moments where you gently lean down to her level, whether it’s to hear her better or to share a soft kiss.

[tifa-simp]

Do I have lots of expectations for Tifa in part 3? Absolutely!

Do I have high hope for the game? Nah~

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Not beating the allegations.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the reason that MTMTE remains the most defining, influential, and loved series in the IDW1 run is fundamentally because, despite its many flaws, MTMTE has the power to make you think and wonder about the world beyond what's shown on the page. The character relationships are so strongly developed that it's easy to care about the characters and easy to imagine further adventures they could go on. While the myriad dropped plotlines, underwritten/underutilized characters, and worldbuilding with weird implications are all fucking maddening at times... even if it makes you mad, MTMTE makes you mad because you care and it makes you want to immerse yourself into a world that feels like it's real beyond what's explicitly shown to you on the page. It's a sandbox of a story where there's so much fertile ground for pretty much anyone with any preferred character archetype, storyline, etc to dig in.

It's just... immersive. That's the best way I can put it. It feels like it could be real and it makes you want to spend more time in it than the constraints JRO had. It makes you want to know more about it and come up with theories on how/why things function or happen the way they do. That's why it's loved and that's why it's the best series in IDW1.

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Tbh saying that people hate the 13th doctor 'just because she's a woman' is a really bad-faith stupid take. You can enjoy 13. But if you make a point like that it's actually you who's dismissive and making it about gender.

[rosesradio]

does anyone want to make like a petition or something for thomas to donate at least part of the ad revenue on his sorting video to a trans charity? or at least put some kind of disclaimer in the video or in the description stating that he doesn’t support jkr, and maybe link some resources and/or charities to encourage donations? idk, it just sits weirdly with me that, upon checking the video a minute ago, there’s no alterations to how it was originally posted to address the bigotry of that franchise.

(especially considering he bought a bunch of merch for the video, which he makes a joke about, potentially encouraging his viewers to sort & buy merch for their houses as well)

[lee-hakhyun]

the horrors of having a bright cloud of thoughts (my lovely ideas) and no way to condense it to pass on to the masses (cannot fucking write)

[hypermascbishounen]

The thing about a lot of the purity culture stuff is how it's also propped up by the anti-intelectualism. Which is how you get people earnestly Charlie-day-cork-board style arguing why anything they don't like has incest subtext, while insulting anyone who actually cares about analyzing real incest subtext.

It's also hard to do any serious analysis of the state of queer works, when the well has been so thoroughly poisoned between prople policing who gets to write/enjoy it, vs writers who see regular engagement with the premise of their writing as a threat.

[suddencolds]

the way I just binge read all of your yvescent fics and all I can think of is WHY DIDN'T I DO IT SOONER?!!!! like...omg. hear me out, I am usually more into fandom content, OCs don't really draw my attention that much BUT that thought's definitely change thanks to yours. Idk, everything about them felt so well-built and their personalities are just captivating they just make you wanna get to know them more (yes, now I am attached and do not regret it one bit). Anyways, what I am trying to say with all that is that thank you for creating them, I think they're awesome and that I admire your blog :))) I came for all the g/enshin fics (which I think are one of the best out there) and found gold by discovering your Yves and Vincent.

ps: didn't get the chance to vote on the poll, but the option that won.... let me just say that I am living for it

Anon!!! Thank you for reading and leaving such nice thoughts!!! 😭😭❤️ It means a lot to me that you were able to enjoy my original content even though you followed me for Genshin - I definitely feel like it can be harder to overcome the initial hurdle of not knowing the characters when it comes to original content.

Thank you for giving them a chance regardless!! And I am so happy to hear that you like them!! 💖 It's actually been a year since I started the series as of... last Monday, haha. (I also apologize for any waiting you'll have to do in the future 😭) Hearing that others look forward to reading more brings me so much joy!!

(Also, to your P.S. - that option was a winner from since right after I posted the poll and hasn't changed since 👀 I feel like the people who voted for it are split between like... allergy enthusiasts and the Vincent suffering enthusiasts haha (or maybe both at once?) Rest assured, I've taken note of it... ✍️)

[enbyboiwonder]

Y’know, when Lee came and found me and told me to give over any data disks and especially any weapons I find in the mines for destruction (and of course it was the fucking church who found me first and not the research center. Luckily though I found the research center soon after. The church ain’t getting shit), I thought I’d be finding old nuclear warheads down there or something. The first time I found a glowing purple dot on the scanner, I assumed it was a weapon, and when I pressed A, I thought it had taken me to the entrance or something and I couldn’t mine in that area anymore. I didn’t realize it had taken me to an unused room with a few monsters to kill and a few chests to loot (and I could go right back and keep right on mining), and I also hadn’t uncovered enough to see that it was a pipe. I realized the second time, though.

No, it’s the triple barrel snakebite, a.k.a. the poison blaster, as I like to think of it. The day after I first pieced one together and tried it out, I received a cease and desist letter from the church (and lost nonexistent favorability points w Lee and Nora lmao). lol how ‘bout no.

Anyways, fuck the church.

[snow-system-wol]

The nightmares continue, but at least they become less frequent -- and perhaps it's finally been enough months that S'ria can start to process.

(cw just below readmore)

(this is written by a B Side author and requires slightly stronger cw, primarily for the dialogue itself)

•References to possession etc, re: In From the Cold

•Discussion of hypothetical (not canon) sexual assault, somewhat explicit language

•Vague references to CSA

It was not days after averting the world's end and S'ria's near death – it was not weeks either, no. It was nearly three entire moons, with S'ria mostly having physically recovered, that everything aligned to create this moment.

G'raha slept peacefully, warm and comfortable in the middle of S'ria's bed – with the man himself half nestled against G'raha's side and half atop him. It was an arrangement that had slowly developed – from S'ria not wanting G'raha in his bed at all, to sharing while barely touching, to a gradual shift towards cuddling – as S'ria both grew more comfortable and was medically cleared to sleep in positions not on his back). There was still caution, G'raha did think S'ria properly being “little spoon” was not an option, but this was quite nice on its own.

G'raha woke up slowly, drowsy and relaxed, trying to figure out if there was a particular reason he was awake. He had not awoken from a nightmare, there were no loud noises like a storm, his body had no imminent complaints or needs, so… well, it certainly happened for no reason from time to time.

And then S'ria made a pitiful whimper, curling tighter into G'raha and lightly digging claws into G'raha's shoulder. Ah, that made more sense. ‘Twas not any cause of his own that pulled him from sleep, but rather S'ria's distress.

G'raha was… not certain how to proceed. Surely S'ria would like to be free of his nightmare, but shaking him awake did not seem a kind or viable path – it seemed like it would make things worse. To simply wait and listen seemed callous and slightly voyeuristic, though. He took a middle ground of gently purring – perhaps the comfort of it would filter through to S'ria's dream.

G'raha could not say if it had any positive effect, but for all his thoughts about not intentionally waking S'ria, he awoke soon after on his own.

S'ria jolted suddenly, coming to consciousness with rapid breaths – and then froze completely for several moments. He must have been taking in the situation – half undressed, tucked in bed and partly entwined with someone else.

He then snapped out of it, shoving G'raha away and scrambling backwards, gracelessly freeing himself from the bed. G'raha quickly sat up to see S'ria uncomfortably sprawled on the floor, wild-eyed and panicked. 

“Ria – Ria, ‘tis alright, you are safe.”

Even if the wheezy hyperventilation did not immediately pass, S'ria latched onto the name and began to stop his frantic side-glances around the room. Much as G'raha knew there were more words that scared S'ria than either of them could ever discover, he also knew that S'ria's master had never misused S'ria's family name. G'raha could not say whether the man would have, if he'd had such cultural knowledge, but G'raha doubted he'd have cared to use it.

As such, as long as S'ria could process his words, this version of his name would always indicate a non-threat.

G'raha hummed while he waited, lyrics forgotten in his anxiety – but it was plenty good enough for S'ria, who was finally lucid, getting his bad leg into a less twisted position with a harsh hiss.

“Would you care for assistance in getting back up?”

S'ria shook his head immediately and limped the few steps to the nest at the foot of the bed – where he wrapped himself in G'raha's long-abandoned quilt and made himself comfortable among the pillows. “No beds tonight.”

It was good, if nothing else, for words to have returned to him.

“Of course. May I join you on the futon?”

“Mhm.”

This was so rarely an arrangement at night, even if not unheard of. S'ria had arranged the room to his liking, with the bed being against a wall, a large heap of pillows at the foot of that, and then a single futon mattress beside the pile. That was originally G'raha's, but the only time he slept in it these days was when they both took afternoon naps on the floor.

Its presence was a blessing now, though, allowing him to comfortably remain by S'ria while giving him plenty of personal space. S'ria looked cozy, bundled up and sunk into pillows, but G'raha doubted he would fall asleep again readily.

G'raha didn't intend to fall asleep before S'ria was fully relaxed either, though. The following quarter bell, perhaps even half, was quiet except for faint clock ticking. S'ria eventually broke the stillness with unexpected words. 

“Can I talk about it?”

Oh, G'raha needed to stamp down on the urge to say yes too hastily, lest he sound eager to hear these things.

(He was not, though perhaps any ‘eagerness’ was instead how he felt about S'ria being in a place where the pain was now bearable to speak of.)

“Of course you may. Merely instruct me on what is most comfortable – whether I should speak or look at you and the like.”

G'raha briefly considered asking if he should perhaps bring a wastebasket over, given prior patterns, but that seemed like something too minor to risk S'ria shutting down over. No, he would simply stay and do as S'ria asked.

“For now… you can look at me, but don't comment or interrupt.” 

G'raha silently nodded, just once, regarding S'ria in a way that he hoped wasn't overly intense.

“How…how can I explain this in a way that will not sound…overly sensitive of me…?”

G'raha's resolve to follow S'ria's instructions wavered from the very beginning, already wanting to interject to tell S'ria that he'd never be judged here. He bit his tongue and waited for S'ria to continue. 

“Do you know what they did after they took me from camp?.” A wry smile graced S'ria's face. “Sat me down for a fancy dinner. That really doesn't sound so bad, compared to what you all must've thought – you must have thought it’d been something awful, but…”

His eyebrows drew together.

“It wasn't even that I woke up shoved into a random soldier's body, just – the dinner. It was only me at one end of the long table, and then Zenos at the other end, with Fandaniel prattling on off to the side��� and all I could think about was those few times He invited me to dine alone with Him instead of having food brought to me. Already knowing this was Garlemald, being at that table made me feel like I barely knew where or when I was.”

It was always... interesting to get more snippets of memories from S'ria's past – he chose to speak of it so rarely and every time G'raha had to bite back showing the anger on his face. It was such a delicate place of conversation, and he was almost glad that S'ria had requested his silence this time – to not have to think what words he must carefully choose.

“There was a moment where I was actually happy to be in a body that'd never been His, I wasn't even that upset to be forced into Garlean armor and body, and then I realized my original body had to be somewhere, and I – was it safe? That was the only question on my mind. Then Zenos walked to a dark corner of the room and there I was, motionless. I at least looked as I should, but – but I don't –”.

S'ria pulled the quilt tighter around himself. “You won't like me putting it so plainly, but I can't – there aren't many words to dance around it.”

He turned his face partly away from G'raha. “Zenos is – was – obsessed with me. With Fray, really, but he didn't know. The way Fray remembers being spoken to, in Ala Mhigo, was so hungry and maybe the wrong sort of thrilled, and they couldn't tell if he was getting off on fighting us.” S'ria winced. “I – I didn't like the idea of him being alone with my unoccupied body, because… I don't think he actually wanted to fuck me, but I never knew for sure. And I wouldn't have even known if he did something.”

G'raha's wince echoed S'ria's own, but S'ria was luckily not looking at him. S'ria was right – it was jarring to hear him speak about Zenos in such directly crass ways, but G'raha did not blame him for that. It wasn't as though it was anything new – G'raha had harbored similar concerns when he first saw Zenos and S'ria interact, and it was an honest relief for S'ria to declare that he at least thought it was not quite like that.

“But then he made it clear that he was going to ‘borrow my flesh’, and he seemed so fucking curious about my body and where my strength came from, and I was so scared the whole time I was trying to fight my way back. What would he do with freedom and no observation, what could he do to you while wearing my face?!”

S'ria choked on a sob and G'raha's hands twitched, desperate to comfort him without making him feel worse. He did not need to figure out or struggle with that for long – S'ria, still bundled in the safe barrier of a thick quilt, crawled into G'raha's arms and shoved his head under G'raha's chin. G'raha doubted S'ria could much feel the pressure of the arms around him, but that was likely by design – but his trembling was still obvious, as was his raspy breathing.

“When I got my body back, I could still feel his presence and I couldn't get rid of it – and I… I couldn't stop wondering what he could've done that I would never know. D-did he inspect me? Fight some beast, to see what it was like? If he was aroused back in Ala Mhigo, would he have felt the same while fighting in my actual body – and then would he have been too curious and wanted to – to touch –”

S'ria made a quiet sound of distress and cut off with such suddenness that G'raha briefly feared that the wastebasket would have been needed after all. S'ria's breathing carefully slowed, the agitation in his body giving way to tiredness.

“Raha, ‘m sorry, this is… it's gross that my mind goes to these places. He just borrowed my body to test something, he wouldn't have assaulted me, I know… but I can imagine exactly what it'd feel like, and that bleeds together with the memories of Mast–”.

S'ria's mouth audibly clicked shut and G'raha's heart ached for him. S'ria almost always simply said Him, spat out in a tone that made it clear who was meant. The few times that politely referring to the man as ‘Master’ slipped out, S'ria invariably seemed absolutely horrified and disgusted by the impulse.

After a long wait, S'ria quietly shaking and tears soaking slowly into G'raha's shirt, he realized that S'ria was quite done speaking after that. G'raha exhaled slowly.

“Oh, Ria.” G'raha's voice cracked. “‘Tis not your fault that you would think that way. None of it is.” He didn't know what else could be said or how to make S'ria feel better. Perhaps there was nothing to say. S'ria curled farther into G'raha's arms, a warm shapeless weight against his chest. G'raha purred to him, and a weak answering rumble, attenpted self-soothing, came from S'ria.

Oh, if Zenos dared to survive his death at the edge of the universe, G'raha would tear him limb from limb if he ever tried to return. 

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[pomefioredove]

could you write the overblot boys (+ lillia & adeuce) with a reader who is really naïve? like they aren’t dumb by any means (the opposite, actually, they are smart and get amazing grades) but they have a lot of trust in people and sometimes takes things too seriously/at face value (like they don’t understand sarcasm at all, respond to rhetorical questions, etc)

how do you guys keep coming up with the most specific relatable ideas 😭😭 finally, oblivious representation!!!

summary: naive/oblivious reader type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus, lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

for someone who's entire life is structured around decorum, Riddle is unexpectedly lenient with you

he's always had a certain weakness for cute things...

AHEM

he's seen your grades, and he knows you aren't incompetent or dim, you just...

...lack social finesse

fortunately, he says he's an expert at socializing!

...unfortunately, that's not true at all

if you're not careful, he'll have you talking like a sickly Victorian orphan by month two

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

but at least he's not Ace, who finds your naivete VERY entertaining

you and Deuce are a two-man circus to him

tricking you is so easy, it's almost not even fun

almost

he has, on three separate occasions, told you and Deuce that "gullible" is written on the ceiling, and all times, you both looked up

but it's all in good fun, of course

Sevens help anyone else who teases you about it, though. then it isn't so funny anymore

Ace and Deuce are just a little overprotective

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona hasn't said a word about it

not that he hasn't noticed

...not that he's trying not to embarrass you, either

he's just trying to see how long it'll take before you can tell when he's being sarcastic

it's just... entertaining

for someone as smart as you to hang onto his every word...

it's... a bit of a power trip for him

not that he's taking advantage of you for anything other than amusement, of course

besides, you'll need someone around to tell off the idiots who do try to pull the rug out from under you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

speaking of which...

if not for your friends' intervention, Azul would probably own your soul by now

he's not half as convincing as he thinks he is, but even then, you respond to everything he says in earnest

you actually believe the whole "nice guy" act

and, honestly...

well...

he likes the way you like him

you actually see him as a nice, smart, interesting person. you spend time with him without expecting anything in return

so, he gives up on trying to squeeze a deal out of you

...for now, at least, you're under his protection

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

someone get this poor man a day off

Jamil is tempted to put you and Kalim in a play pen together so he can take a nap

he just... doesn't understand you

he's seen your name in the hall after exams, he's heard the way the professors praise you, and yet you are almost painfully easy to manipulate

he could mold you like clay if he really wanted to

...unfortunately, he cares too much to do that

so, for now, he'll keep trying to trick you into tutoring Kalim so he can have the night off

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is your number one protector

you're smart, you're competent, but you're way too easy to deceive

and knowing the boys at this school...

...of course, Vil has to keep you by his side at all times. he wouldn't trust half the students here with his laundry

he can't sit by and let you get taken advantage of

...not that he never teases you

he does, of course

your earnest responses are just so sweet to him, and you seem to genuinely enjoy complimenting him...

anyway

while Rook teaches you how to pick up on hints and cues, and Epel throws hands with anyone who even looks at you weird, Vil is busy pampering you half to death

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia's initial reaction is something along the lines of "well, at least I'm not that guy,"

(sorry)

but, really; he thinks he has it bad, and then you can't even read a room?

you're like total opposites; an overthinker and an underthinker

you're all... sweet and genuine and cutesy

and he's a lame weird loser...

he assumes that everyone else thinks the same; but then he starts hearing the things other people say about you...

...and the way you get treated when you don't understand a joke or pick up on a cue

maybe you're not so different, after all...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unfortunately, it looks like you and Malleus are on the same page

one oblivious to social cues, the other awkward from years of isolation

communicating with anyone else is a minefield

but, of course, you have each other

the way you talk to each other is kind of adorable?

Malleus can be quite blunt when he doesn't mean to, though, for you, that's a blessing

but he's also aware that you're a little oblivious, compared to other humans, and he's quite accommodating

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Lilia is a little shit

he may act all innocent about it, but he knows very well what he's doing

your naivete was the first thing he noticed about you

he absolutely uses it to his advantage

you're just so easy to prank, how can he resist?

he also enjoys flirting with you

it goes right over your head every time, and it's just the cutest thing he's ever seen

he's trying to see how far he can push it before you realize he's being serious

times he's said "I want you" to your face: 2 and counting!