#≫╰ (VISAGE) the devil's favorite

[ashklad]

𝐂𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐖𝐘'𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐘𝐅 — a highly selective, private, and indie roleplay blog based on the fictional character ASKELADD . ( ash lad ) from the anime / manga VINLAND SAGA . note : historical references of medieval europe, vikings, and danish occupation of the british isles.

Basic Rules

▍ ❝   RULE ONE.

I am MULTI-SHIP &&. SELECTIVELY MULTI-FANDOM. if i do not mutually follow you, please understand that i DO NOT wish to return the favor. Furthermore, any personal blogs that reblog my posts will be personally addressed to delete said post, and they will subsequently be blocked.

▍ ❝   RULE TWO.

i am a SLOW RESPONDER, and are easily distracted by my irl surroundings. please do not take my unresponsiveness as willful negligence. I do have anxiety that builds up from time to time if I forget to complete even the smallest task, so please forgive me if I forget something I owe you !

▍ ❝   RULE THREE.

While this blog features canon divergence, I heavily rely on game and manga lore regarding VINLAND SAGA. in terms of relationships, I would like to address CHEMISTRY is important to me. However, there may be times where romantic intent is included as there may be mention of ship bias, or the two characters simply click. or that the person with whom I ship is a well known friends. I do accept other forms of shipping, such as: platonic, enemy or rivalry, found family.

-> 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝 (TBA) • 𝐀𝐬𝐤 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 • 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 <-

[dollwrites]

Good morning to you too!!! Omg yes I couldn’t decide but I would love to see #1 with Mammon. It’d be so weird to not request him as I named -mammon anon 🤣

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, rough backshots, spit as lube, anal play ( a finger ), spanking, suggested breeding kink, suggested anal sex, light praise, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀 ∣ prompt # one // mirror sex

you were watching him through the mirror, not yourself. you couldn’t help it, when the devil king mounted you from behind. you had to see him— to watch how his massive pectorals rose and fell with heavy snorting through his nose, how his dark brows furrowed from behind slick tendrils that hangs in his face.

though, it definitely wasn’t easy to keep your concentration on the man fucking you. the mirror quakes, along with most everything else within the room, causing the visage of your lover to blur when his herculean hips buck home, and it takes all of your power to stay firmly planted on the bed, lest you be thrown into the floor ( it wouldn’t have been the first time, but Mammon was also not above following you down there, and sticking his foot in the back of your head to hold you in place while he finished ).

“Harder,” you pant, the sound barely audible over his bestial snarling, “harder!” with anyone else, it would’ve been a demand barked to startle them into submission— but with King Mammon, it was a plea. a whimper. a desperate yip for him to truly wreck you.

his honeyed gaze was focused downward instead of into the glass to meet your own. you knew that he couldn’t help it; entranced by the ripples your ass makes when he slaps it. he does so again for good measure, and your back arches tight, pushing his favorite section of your body back into him. hunkering closer to the bed, your breasts rubbing against the mattress, you wince from the sting. “Your Majesty…”

“Begging for me to beat your pussy up again?” there’s a thick layer of arrogance in his voice as he uses both hands to grope your ass cheeks, massaging the sting away, and spreading them. his parted lips quirk into a smirk when you clench hard, and your tight ring puckers for him, just like you know he likes. “Hmph. Spoiled little breeding bitch.” but he doesn’t complain. instead, he obliges— using the grip on your ass to anchor you, his rutting turning brutal enough for you to claw at the black satin sheets under your sweaty body. your eyes, as much as you try to keep them on the heaving, rocking figure, flutter closed under the rush of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes!!” you yelp in tandem with every thrust; your insides churning as he spears into them. your elastic walls thrummed in a frenzy, milking his thick cock.

“Hell, you’re tight…” Mammon grunts in appreciation, and you can feel a dribble of fluid sliding between your spread cheeks. you knew it must be spit— without looking, you can imagine the familiar sight. Mammon’s long, thick tongue hanging out, saliva dripping from it in translucent globs down on to the hole he’s dying to get inside of. “Look at me, breeder.” you open your eyes, feeling the rough pad of his calloused thumb sweeping over your asshole, smearing the spit around it, and you realize he’s also raised his gaze from your perfect ass, and his golden eyes are glaring at you from the reflection. locked in such a disjointed stare, your lips part to speak, but he beats you to it. “Is this pussy mine?” he asks, and you almost wonder if he’s joking. balls deep in your hole, stretching it out, his pounding making you see double, and he’s asking if it’s his?

“Mhm!” you answer, one hand pushing itself down the length of your belly. your svelte fingertips find your swollen clit and rub it furiously. “‘S yours!”

“And this tight ass?” he asks again. this time, his thumb pushes on your pucker, worming its way inside the spasming canal. luckily, it was slick and gave way for the large digit. you mewl in response to another hole being violated, smiling breathlessly as he uses it as a hook. the rest of his powerful hand spread against your lower back. “Do I own it?”

“Yes, yes, Your Majesty! You own my ass!” as you cry this out, you attempt to look over your left shoulder to look into his eyes and show him how earnest you are, but he doesn’t allow that.

Mammon grins, his fangs dragging across his lower lip as he does so, and his free hand palms the back of your head, and forces it straight again, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. “That’s a good girl. Are you ready to watch me fuck it?”

[fatale-distraction]

BG3 Companions Social Media Headcanons Part 1

I was bored at work and couldn’t stop. 🤣 I’ll make another post with Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc, and some NPCs!

~~~

Astarion - Pre-Tav, Astarion's social media is mostly thirst-traps for some kind of nefarious, Cazador-related money-making plot. They barely scoot past the TOS on lewd content. Very little real personal content, anything that isn't a thirst trap is heavily doctored lifestyle content to make it seem like he's living a much more luxurious life than he actually is.

After meeting Tav and getting rid of Cazador, he deletes all of his old accounts and opens up new ones. They're not exactly private, but he's much more careful about who he follows and who can follow him back. The posts become much more genuine. Still a lot of selfies, but they're sexy in the way of a guy just finally living his truth and being comfortable in his own skin. There's more shots of his daily life; waking up with his partner's obnoxious pets strewn across the bed, morning coffee and his current favorite book, new outfits that make him feel more himself. Tav features heavily in most of his posts, and there are probably as many pictures of them as there are of himself.

Karlach - chaos. No rhyme or reason. Lots of parkour and Jack-ass parodies. Constant flood of pictures of her stuffed animal collection. Stupid filters abound. There's several videos of her just flexing. Lumberjack videos. Seven hundred pictures of Tav, tons of selfies together. Videos of her literally sobbing over some cute stuffy she found or a dog she got to pet. "How many times can I say the fuck word before I get suspended." Memes. Memes everywhere.

Lae'zel - She follows three accounts and never posts anything, but somehow she's constantly scrolling through. What does she even do? Her profile picture is still the default. She doesn't have any profile information filled out. It just says "No." Her screen name is just Lae_zel. Every single item in her favorites is a cat video. She has One photo and its a gym selfie. All of her comments seem really mean at first, but they're all weirdly supportive things along the lines of "your teeth are sharp and your visage terrifying".

Shadowheart - total E-girl influencer vibe. Everything is #nofilter. She doesn't need filters. She's god's most perfect princess. You can't even be mad because it's not vanity its just how she Is. Ends everything with Prayer-hands-emoji hashtag Shar'sblessings or Selune'sblessings depending on where she is in that journey. Hairstyle and makeup tutorials and she makes it look so damn easy. "Dye my hair and cut my bangs with me." "Get ready with me" videos nearly every day. Every picture has a comment from Astarion that just says "oh fuck off" because even he can never hope to be as perfect as she is. Or at least that's what her forty-five thousand followers think.

Wyll - The official Blade of the Frontier social media account(s). Fencing videos and promos. "How to polish your horns for newbies" video that's been taken down twenty-seven times for lewd content even though it's literally for polishing actual horns. Accidental thirst traps because damn. Lots of disability advocacy, especially for visual impairments. Weekly Demon/Devil PSAs. Constantly featured in Karlach's vids and vice-versa. Buddy selfies. Once in a while a pic of him with his dad. Pics with Tav are rare, but when he does post them they're the sweetest pictures and he gushes about them for paragraphs. It's a little gross how gushy they are. Astarion comments with vomit emojis and Wyll just replies with an angry face emoji. The purest content. He's so wholesome. Not a swear to be seen. Lots of gentle hype videos. "You've got this. You can do this. I believe in you."

Gale - oh my god he has the most pretentious social media accounts. He's worse than Astarion. "Well, actually" videos with multiple parts because they're too long. Tea and bookshelves. Tara. So many pics of Tara. Tara napping on a book. Tara swatting a fly. Tara in the window. Tara on the kitchen counter. Tara laying in the sun. Tara doing nothing. He has one of those fancy cat terrarium backpacks. Magic tutorials. Mystra simp. Surprisingly few selfies but the ones he has are IMMACULATE. Pretentious book reviews. His only saving grace is that he is HILARIOUS. He's the only one with a reasonable about of pics with Tav as opposed to almost none or way too many, but the captions are always really sweet.

~~~

Part 2 here!

Part 3 here!

Part 4

[iovetecchou]

Circumstances ⧸ Aki Hayakawa.𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary:  Trapped inside the hotel that has been taken over by the eternity devil, your superior: Hayakawa Aki, is the only comfort you've found. As the days go by, you find yourself seeking more than just comfort from your usually stoic leader.

༞ Contains...! smut, porn with a slight plot, and a sprinkle of fluff, only one bed trope, virgin!aki, inexperienced!aki, touch starved!aki, consent, dry humping, handjob, pussyjob, no penetrative sex, pillow talk, confessions, overall very soft and clumsy, the reader lovingly teases aki throughout the entirety of this fic

༞ AFAB Reader.

༞ 3,064 words.

kinktober masterlist!

It had been days.

Days; since you first stepped foot inside this forsaken hotel with your unit. Your Captain, Aki, was the only individual keeping your crew from losing their minds. Although, Kobeni was way beyond saving at this point.

You tried to stay optimistic, putting your trust in your Captain. You had no reason to doubt him, anyway. You admired Aki. If he asked you to follow him blindly, you would.

Aki always made you feel safe; it would be a lie if you said you had not fallen for him.

You admired every version of Aki, but your favorite side of him was the one only you got to see. The Aki who helped you get stronger, never giving up on you even when you stumbled and screwed up. The Aki who would go out after a harsh mission and eat almond tofu with you. The Aki that allowed himself to smile when he was in your presence, letting himself forget about his trepidations. Even if it was briefly before you witnessed the sorrow creep back into his cerulean eyes.

You could not help but feel as though Aki might have a soft spot for you. He always requested to be stationed with you on assignments and spoke highly of you to Miss Makima when you did exemplary work.

So when you got paired up to share a room with the captain himself, you could hardly contain your excitement.

Arai and Kobeni were in shambles, so Power locked them in a room together. She laughed menacingly on the outside from the sounds of them wailing and shrieking. Power and Denji took the next room, unintentionally pairing themselves up. You could hear them bickering through the thin walls before it got quiet. Ultimately, assuming that Denji must have fallen asleep.

And then there was Aki and yourself.

You would be lying if you said the prospect of sleeping in the same bed as your crush didn’t excite you, just a little bit. You knew it was wrong, considering the situation was less than ideal. You secretly wished your first time sharing a bed with Aki would be under better circumstances, but there’s no time like the present.

You could’ve sworn you saw Aki's cheeks flush when he noticed there was only one bed before he blurted out,

“I’ll take the floor. You take the bed.“

A frown etched its way into your visage, coming up with a solution to change his mind on the spot.

“But, Mister Hayakawa, I think it would be safest if we stuck together and stayed as close as possible. Who knows what the eternity devil might do next? It might try to separate us, so we must have eyes on one another at all times. That’s why we all paired up in the first place, right?”

You watched as he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and holding it in his lungs for a few beats before ultimately exhaling with a sigh. You could tell he was thinking over your proposition from the way his eyebrows knit together.

“Alright, you have a point. But only if you are comfortable with that.”

Your eyes lit up as he agreed to your proposal. You turned on your heel, making your way toward the messily made bed. Trying to conceal your grin from Aki.

“Of course I’m comfortable! You always make me feel safe, Mister Hayakawa.”

Aki's cheeks dusted a pretty pink from your words. With your back still turned, you kicked your shoes off. Shrugging off your blazer before rolling up the sleeves of your white button-down. He took another drag of his cigarette, making slow strides toward the bed. Aki propped his sword against the nightstand before unbuttoning his suit jacket. Trying his hardest not to overthink resting beside you.

“I will only need a few hours until I am back on patrol, but I want you to get as much rest as possible. I will try my best not to wake you when I leave.”

All you could do was nod in agreement as you lifted the covers, making yourself as cozy as you could; regarding the circumstances.

You turned on your side from beneath the sheets, observing Aki as he put his cigarette out. He slipped his shoes off, lifting his side of the duvet before crawling underneath. He was as stiff as a board as he rested flat against the bed. You could tell he was nervous, and you were not sure if it was because of the proximity or because of the devil, which was still at large.

“Mister Hayakawa, are you okay? You look a bit tense.”

Aki let out a deep sigh. He turned his head slightly so that he could glance at you before he spoke softly.

“It’s just… I want to make sure we all get out of here alive without having to sacrifice anyone. Defeating this devil, getting the gun devil chunk, and making sure you get out of here unharmed, are my top priorities.”

You felt your cheeks heat up from his words. To learn that Aki prioritized your well-being in such a way made your heart flutter.

“Don’t worry mister Hayakawa! With you being our captain, I have no doubts that we will succeed in all of those departments. Also, don’t feel like you need to bear the burden on your own. You can lean on me, I promise.”

Your words forced Aki’s chest to tighten. You put so much faith into him, and knowing that you believed in him to such an extent eased his mind. For the time being.

Aki took in a deep breath before sitting up swiftly. He reached over toward the lamp resting atop the night table, tugging on the copper string. Enveloping you both in complete darkness.

“Thank you… Now get some rest. I’m sure we have a long day ahead of us,”

Aki whispered, turning on his side to face you. A tight-lipped smile pulled at his lips before he finished his thought.

“And one more thing, you don’t need to call me Mister Hayakawa while we’re on the job. You can always call me Aki. You know that, right?”

You watched as he tucked a hand under his pillow for support, adjusting slightly to let himself slump further into the bed. A small giggle slipped past your lips from his words before you retorted,

“Of course, I know that! I just figured you liked it when I addressed you as Mister Hayakawa. I mean, considering how your ears turn a pretty shade of pink when I do.”

You teased. Inching yourself closer to your superior from where you lay atop the mattress. Practically sharing the same air at this point.

“Hey, cut that out.”

Was all Aki could blurt out before he turned his back toward you. He silently thanked the darkness for shrouding the room, concealing the rosiness that painted his face.

That didn’t stop you from shifting impossibly closer. You pressed your chest against the expanse of Aki's back, closing the distance between you two before letting your arm sling around his hip.

“I’m sorry, Mister Hayakawa… I didn’t mean to tease.”

Your voice laced with faux innocence. But Aki could hardly focus on the words you spoke only moments ago. The feeling of your arm wrapped around his midsection and your chest pressing into him had his brain short-circuiting.

Physical affection was not something Aki was used to by any means, and the fact that you were the one touching him made his head spin even further. Aki felt comfortable with you. He cherished the time you spent together, more than he let on.

“Yes, you did. Do you take me for one of those idiots over in the next room?”

Aki huffed, trying his hardest not to twitch when your fingertips trailed over his clothed abdomen. You scooted up the bed slightly; so you could rest your head atop Aki’s shoulder. Lips ghosting over the shell of his rosy ear before you whispered out,

“Of course not, Mister Hayakawa. You are clever, way better than the others. In every aspect.”

Your hand trailed lower, fumbling with the clasp of his belt. You heard Aki’s breath hitch as you pulled the leather out of the buckle.

“What are you—“

“Like I said earlier, you seem a bit tense. Let me help you, Mister Hayakawa.”

His heart was pounding against his sternum. Aki could feel his hands shaking as he remained silent. You could tell he was way beyond nervous.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop if you are uncomfortable.”

You whispered, slowly retracting your hands from around his waist. What you didn’t expect was for Aki to turn in his place, coming face to face with you once more.

“No it’s not that… i-it’s just…”

You could barely make out his expression in the darkness, but you could feel his hand trembling beside you. Your hand crept down to grasp his arm, placing his large palm atop your waist.

“Why are you shaking so much, Mister Hayakawa? It’s just us.”

The way that nickname rolled off your tongue made his head fuzzy. He could feel the warmth of your skin seeping through your shirt.

“Is this what you want?”

Aki took a shaky breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

“I…”

His voice was quivering as you two shared the same air. Another moment passed before you whispered,

“Do you want me to stop, Aki?”

His breath hitched. You said his name, finally. Aki’s heart was beating a mile a minute as you slowly started to pull away.

“N-No… don’t stop.”

That was all the conformation you needed. You could hardly contain your excitement as you pressed your chest flush against his in one swift motion. You hoisted your leg around his waist, pulling a low grunt from Aki.

Now you understood the reason behind Aki’s trembling; he was hard. You could feel his erection pressing up against your clothed core from the new position.

“Ah… I’m sorry—“

Before Aki could finish his sentence, your lips were on his. His cerulean eyes were blown wide at the sudden kiss, but he wasn’t complaining.

Aki thought about this moment countless times your lips colliding with his. But never in a million years did Aki think your first kiss together would be under these circumstances.

You deepened the kiss further, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip. At first, Aki didn’t get the hint, but when your pelvis ground down against his aching cock, he couldn’t help but let out a whine.

The moment his lips parted against yours, you slipped your tongue past. Tangling with his appendage slowly, letting him get used to the newfound intimacy. Aki was still shaking, you noted, as your hand came up to unbuckle his belt; for good this time.

Aki only pulled away from your lips when he felt you unzip his pants, tugging on the waistband of his boxers.

“W-Wait… I’ve never…”

Aki could feel the perspiration trickling down the side of his neck as he swallowed the lump in his throat, adams apple bobbing in the process.

“I know, and it’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, Aki. I want to make you feel good, and I promise I’ll go slow.”

You muttered against his lips, slipping your hand through the hole in his boxers. Aki gasped against your lips as you seized his needy cock. Gently pulling his length through the cut-out of his underwear.

“Is this okay?”

You asked, halting in your movements. You placed a small kiss on Aki's nose as you awaited his response, being as patient as ever with him. Aki nodded fervently before whispering,

“Yes… more— please…”

Aki’s plea sent heat rushing to your core. He was too precious, and who were you to deny him?”

Your hand slowly began rubbing his leaky cock. There was so much pre-cum coating the head of his dick; making it even easier to glide your palm along his twitching length.

“Does this feel good?”

You picked up the pace ever so slightly, letting your thumb circle around his ruddy tip.

“Fuck— yes, so… so good…”

Aki’s head fell forward, now resting his forehead against yours as you continued to stroke his cock.

“Better than when you do this to yourself?”

You asked earnestly, reveling in the little whines and whimpers that slipped past his lips.

“Mhm…”

That was all Aki could muster out. He was too drunk off the pleasure you granted him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. Your hands worked him so carefully— so tenderly. For the first time in a long time; Aki allowed himself to forget his worries. He allowed himself to succumb to you entirely.

You could feel him throbbing in your hand. You knew he was nearing his end. Aki’s perspired forehead stuck to your own, his breath was warm against your lips. You couldn’t help but clench around nothing at his silent pleas of,

“Please, don’t stop… feels s-so— good…”

Quickly, you removed your hand from around his length. Your leg unhooked from around his waist for a brief moment as you fumbled with your belt. Swiftly pushing your pants and panties down your legs before kicking them off from underneath the covers.

“What are you—“

“Shh… don’t worry, I’m not stopping. I want to try something different, just trust me on this… okay?”

Your hand came back up to Aki’s waist. Slowly, you pushed his trousers and boxers down his thighs, letting his cock spring free. His length slapped against his tummy. Aki hissed at the friction, harshly swallowing once more as your leg came back up to wrap around his waist.

“O-Okay... I trust you, Y/N.”

With that, your chest came flush against his once more. Only this time, your slick pussy grazed along the underside of his throbbing length.

“S-Shit…”

Aki cursed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed; at the feeling of your essence coating his cock. You were so warm and wet. He could hardly contain his moans as you began grinding against him. You moved your hips slowly at first, rubbing the most sensitive parts of his length with your drooling slit.

“Does this feel good?”

You huffed. You began to feel dizzy from the intimacy Aki and yourself shared. You whined as your clit rubbed against him so perfectly. Your slick allowing you to glide against him with ease.

“T-Too good!”

Aki cried out. His hand around your waist tightened as he began aiding you in your movements. Thrusting you impossibly closer to him. Adding even more pressure against your puffy bud. You both moaned in unison. Grinding against each other with more intensity than before.

“I think… I’m…”

Aki could hardly finish his train of thought. Too wound up in the heat of the moment. You soothed your hand over the small of his back, continuing to hump into Aki before you whispered,

"I know, baby, let it all out."

Your tender words sent Aki spiraling. His release crashed down on him faster than he could process. Before you knew it, Aki was the one kissing you. He whimpered against your lips as his first ropes of cum shot out past his slit.

The feeling of his cock twitching and throbbing against your clit was enough for the coil within your tummy to snap. You gasped against his lips as you came. Your movements staggered, still trying to work Aki and yourself through your orgasms.

A few moments passed before Aki finally pulled away from your lips. He took in a deep breath as his hand clenched and unclenched around your waist. You assumed it was a form of self-soothing for Aki.

"Are you okay?"

You asked softly. You trailed your hand up Aki's frame, slotting to cup his face instead.

"Mhm… are you? Did you… enjoy that?"

Aki's words were hesitant. You could tell he was immensely unsure of what this now meant for the both of you.

"Of course I enjoyed it, Aki. I've been dreaming of a moment like this with you for ages now. I just… I'm sorry, I wanted to properly do things with you. But our lives are so complicated,"

You paused, caressing his cheek with your thumb softly before letting out a deep sigh.

"Aki… I truly adore you, I always have. So, now you know. I figured since there's a high possibility of us dying here, I might as well lay it all out on the table. I mean, we did just hump each other like a couple of dogs—"

"Ah, stop right there."

Aki's eyebrows scrunched up at your crude words. He felt embarrassed all over again.

You could not help the giggle that slipped past your lips. Aki was too adorable for his own good. He was such a gentleman, another thing to tack onto the list of 'things you love about Aki'.

"Sorry, sorry! I wish it wasn't so dark in here, I bet the look on your face was priceless."

You teased, bringing your hand back down to encompass Aki's waist before nestling your face into his chest. Your leg was still wrapped around his hips, pulling a small grunt from Aki when you closed the distance between you both for the last time tonight.

"Hey, at least let me get you a towel so I can clean you up. It's a… mess, down there— because of me."

You smiled against his chest before a yawn passed over you. You slipped your hand under his shirt, smoothing over the small of his back before you whispered,

"Aki, relax! It's okay… let's get a little bit of rest before it's back to patrolling. I wanna hold you like this, just a little while longer… Please?"

His heart ached at your words. Aki would give anything to stay in this moment with you forever. His hand tightened around your waist, keeping you snug against him before ultimately letting out a sigh.

It only took you a few moments to knock out. Aki smiled to himself as your little snores filled the room. He tried not to mind the sticky sensation coming from below as he placed a kiss atop your head. Finally, he allowed his droopy eyelids to close before whispering,

"You could be such a brat at times… you know that, right? But, that's just another thing I… love about you."

[jessamine-rose]

ʚ✿⚘ Forbidden Fruit ⚘✿ɞ

Welp I was very busy this Kinktober thanks to WHB. More headcanons, anyone?? (*-`ω´- )

Characters:: Bathin, Marbas, Barbatos, Naberius, Satan, Zagan, Astaroth

Note:: Nsfw, pls take note of each character’s paraphilia before reading, MINORS DNI

♡ Bathin usually travels alone, but he is always open to your company. He will prioritize scenic routes and hidden gems, anything to make your journey more exciting. Once the moon rises, the two of you can take evening strolls, compare the night sky to Niflheim’s, and savor each other’s presence in an otherwise unfamiliar place. Not to mention the hours spent in your hotel room—there is a reason why you always share a bed.

♡ Technically, Marbas can undo his restraints during meals, but that hasn’t stopped you from offering your help. Hand-feeding him takes less time, after all, especially with candy or fruit. And it means you can tease him by sitting on his lap, tracing his lips for stray crumbs, getting your fingers sticky with his favorite strawberry caramel. Neither can he stop you when you pull him into a sweet kiss, slipping an aphrodisiac into his mouth~

♡ Barbatos likes to see you at different times of the day. Noon, illuminated in radiant sunshine. Sunset, colored in light and shadow. Night, when your visage is painted in the soft shades of borrowed sunlight. In return for indulging his kink, he will be the one to provide sunscreen and thoroughly apply it to your skin. Now he just needs to coax you into sunbathing with him; the both of you would look beautiful against the roses.

♡ Naberius is weak to pet play. There are many ways to rile him up, from soft headpats to harsh commands to a personalized collar engraved with your initials. And what is the best form of control if not Pavlovian conditioning? All it takes is the sound of his name spoken in your voice, in a stern tone used only during sex, for his animalistic urges to take over. “Hey, Naberius, have you forgotten who your owner is? …Oh? That’s my good boy~”

♡ The easiest way to end an argument with Satan is through makeup sex. Depending on the seriousness of the issue, he can’t help but feel turned on by your wrath—directed at him, no less. He hasn’t even apologized before you’re already at his throat, a slap to his face followed by a passionate kiss. To which he smiles and kisses you back, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You truly are an interesting human~

♡ Zagan is attentive to your physical mannerisms, which makes it easy for him to gauge your emotions. Every shudder, every flicker of discomfort, spurs him to stop moving and ask if you’re okay, if you need a breather, if he has failed as your lover. Do reassure him, won’t you? His skill is also useful during workouts! He will examine your form, manually adjust your body, and, in a shy voice, propose a final exercise in his bedroom.

♡ Astaroth’s favorite pastime is to read a book while you cockwarm him. The experience can only be described as your personal hell—fleeting touches, the spikes of his leg harness, his velvety voice narrating a tale of dark romance. How long will your patience last? Has corruption ever tasted this sweet? Don’t worry, he promises to reward you once the story is over. A beautiful rose is not without thorns, just like the flowers tainted by original sin.

♡

Still hornii?? Read my other WHB fics <3

Cheers to Marbas and Astaroth getting more headcanons after Dance with the Devil. Can y’all tell how thirsty I was when I wrote their parts?? Huhuhu _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this and rejuvenating me with your reaction to Naberius. And to my beloved readers, do rot in the tags/ comments and tell me which devil was your favorite. I cherish your feedback <3

Tag a WHB enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @dreamii-yume @yanmaresu @pinkaditty @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki @obeythisass @beelsjuicytitties @binar-es @ushitoshii @sulumuns-dootah @devilmen-collector @jazeswhbvault

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Can I please request the Devil from Cuphead with a Lilith s/o? Where they were an early version of Eve that knew Devil before his fall and also fell with him. They too went through a transformation, one that made them insecure as Devil is with his own transformation.

A/N: This was an interesting request! The story of Lilith has always fascinated me. Not to mention that, like the Devil, the numerous pieces of art that were inspired by her tale are absolutely gorgeous! If you haven’t seen it, I’d recommend giving John Collier’s Lilith a look-see!!

I believe I accidentally misread some of the initial request, so the reader falls/transforms before the Devil does. This batch is a little bit heftier than my usual work, so if you’re unhappy with the results, feel free to shoot me a dm so I can make any adjustments where needed!!

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The Devil with Lilith!S/O:

The Devil’s earliest memories of you traced back to when you were nothing more than a whispered name. Long ago, when he still held a place in his father’s heart, the Devil had watched your conception. 

Even now, the Devil could recall his father’s mumbling under his breath,  enraptured in a conversation of one. The few times the Devil (well, he was Lucifer back then) passed by his office, he could faintly make out his father’s muffled muttering through the door. Most of which were near unintelligible. Save for two names: Adam and Lilith.

After his older brothers’ incessant pestering, the Devil snuck into his father’s office. Crumpled paper balls, broken sticks of charcoal, and empty ink wells littered the floor; the Holy One’s once pristine office left neglected in its master’s fitful working.  

A few steps in, his foot suddenly slid forward. Paper ripped beneath his dress shoe with a loud shriek, startling the angel. Cursing, he lifted his foot up. Beneath him laid two torn halves of a sketch page. A man– broad, curly-haired, and with eyes like a dairy cow– stared up at him; the imprint of the Devil’s shoe marring his otherwise perfect face. 

On the other half was another figure. Sharp, piercing eyes and long hair that flowed  like a waterfall. Ah, so you must be Lilith. It was fascination at first sight. Gingerly, he had picked up the half that housed your striking visage. Without another word, the Devil pocketed it. 

He didn’t know what possessed him to take it. Instinct? Possessiveness? Even now, long after he fell from Heaven, he’s unsure. All the Devil knew was that he wanted to stare and marvel at you for hours on end.

God found out about his son’s trespassing not long after the incident. However, he couldn’t find it within him to be angry towards his favorite son. Instead, he had nurtured the young man’s curiosity. Not that Lucifer ever retained any of his father’s impassioned ramblings. He was much more interested in you. 

“They are to be Adam’s wife,” his father explained, a smile present on his ancient face. A pang ripped through the Devil’s chest. Though he couldn’t quite place why.

By the time his father finally began to sculpt you and your husband to be, the Devil thought whatever torch he carried would fizzle out.  

It did not. 

From the moment you opened your eyes, he had been ensnared. Shyness shook his normally so confident core. And to think that all it took was a gentle tilt of your head and a wry smile. A mirthful glint shone in your eyes as the Devil fought to hide the blush steadily overtaking his face. 

The Devil avoided you like the plague after your birth. He threw himself into his work– hoping that having you out of sight would put an end to this nonsense. Little did he know that absence only made the heart grow fonder. 

He was forced to sit back and observe the object of his obsession from afar– lest he’d make a blithering fool of himself. You were different from most of his father’s pet projects. Disinterested. Both in the role you were given and your husband. 

You always seemed to stare off into the distance. Towards the horizon. Paying the lush paradise and your husband no mind. Hell, you’d even looked annoyed when the only other human around spoke to you. 

The Devil didn’t recognize it then, but you, too, hungered for more; more than what you have, for beyond the garden grounds. Most of all, neither of you wished to be subservient to anyone. 

No matter how much he had tried, you never were able to bond or love Adam like God wanted to. What started out as courteous neutrality steadily gave way into contempt. Resentment bubbled beneath your stony exterior like magma within the earth. You were a ticking time bomb rigged to explode, and the Devil watched on with bated breath.

One day, you snapped. Neither you or the Devil could remember what started the argument. Only that it was enough for you to lash out and claw at your husband’s cheek– your eyes wide and teeth bared like a feral hellcat. Adam was quick to crumple to the ground, hissing in pain. You darted off into the underbrush, the rustles of disturbed foliage and the snaps of breaking twigs following in your wake.

By the time God had found out of your transgressions, you were long gone. No one could find where you ran off to. And though the Devil and his brothers were told to leave the incident behind, one look at his father’s face was enough to say it all: the deity was absolutely livid.

Hours turn into days, days into weeks. Time becomes a blur. Adam gains a new wife, and all is well in the garden once more. The bond between father and son weakens with each passing day; all the while your feral visage burned itself into the Devil’s mind. 

Then that fateful rebellion happened. A sword– burning like the rage within his former brother’s eyes– is pressed to the Devil’s neck; a clear victor had been declared. 

Shortly after, he fell. Screaming and burning until he was only a vague resemblance of his former self.

Life after falling wasn’t easy. He was alone, stripped of any power or influence,  and the phantom pains had haunted him constantly. His wings were broken and useless, forcing him to wander the hellscape by foot, and his appearance— oh, how he had changed. 

Truly, the Devil had hit rock bottom. 

And then, you came back into his life. 

In the centuries– eons– of his existence,  the Devil finds himself at a loss of words around you. You’d regarded him with a level of distrust at first– especially since he had accidentally let it slip that he’s known of your existence before you rebelled. 

It also didn’t help that, in spite of the fall scarring you– having charred the flesh of your arms and legs to a blackened and cracked state; feathers, dark and oil-slick like a raven, grew in uneven patches around your eyes, arms and thighs; and legs twisted and bent until they resembled the hind legs of a goat, complete with hooves – he thought you were absolutely gorgeous. 

It takes a long time for you to trust him. Especially since the last thing you had wanted was to bow down to Heaven’s disgraced golden child.  The two of you shared an acquaintanceship for a while– your interactions kept brief. However, you couldn’t deny that you were a little curious about the man. 

Soon enough, a working business relationship blooms between the two of you. The Devil comes to you in search of information– be it the whereabouts of potential contracts or certain souls on his list. In return, you gain a favor from the soon-to-be King of Hell; you saw how quickly he’s amassing power, you’d be a fool to pass up having someone as influential as him underneath your thumb. 

Not to mention that you may or may not have begun to enjoy spending time with him. What was once small shared rants on how much Heaven sucked ended up developing into something more. 

Once the Devil finally establishes his casino in Inkwell Hell, you find yourself treated as a guest of honor. You’ll be treated better than royalty within velvet-lined walls, an entourage of imps tending to your every whim, and drinks and food are given to you free of charge. Not to mention you have free reign to enter his office or balcony seat whenever you please. 

Acquaintanceship blossoms into an easy, flirtatious.. Whatever you two are. The Devil isn’t sure what to name the relationship he has with you at this point. You both share the same dry, sardonic sense of humor and are content to co-exist in comfortable silence – a part of him rather not muddy one of the few good things he has because he decided to think with his other head, so to speak. 

Then again, there are certain moments where he wonders..

You’d light the end of your thin cigarette against the plump tip of his cigar, eyes hooded and lips pursed as you hummed a low thanks; occasionally glancing at him from the corner of your eye. Chuckling to yourself every time he flushes and grumbles to himself. 

Every now and then you’ll indulge in drinks within his personal office. Occasionally you’d partake of his own cup, gently pressing your lips where his own rested not too long ago. Taking care to slowly lick at your lower lip each time you catch him staring. 

The way you’d pause whenever the larger demon would casually brush  a stray head feather back into place, gently dragging a claw against the vane in his own version of grooming. A shy flush overtaking your cheeks, turning away and covering your mouth as you grumble out to warn you next time.. 

How your gaze softens and body melts when either one of you recall the fall from grace; lamenting former glories and how your transformation left its scars, offering a saddened smile whenever he scoffs at the very idea that your were any less beautiful. 

For as long as both of you existed, for as much as both of you constantly blur the lines of platonic comradery and something the Devil dare not name in fear of getting his hopes up– the two of you are painfully oblivious.

┕━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┙

[halfmoth-halfman]

la douleur exquise

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Spider!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: canon-typical violence, fluff, whump, slight body horror

It isn’t easy being one of Miguel’s best agents. He’s a hard man to impress and even harder to get close to, but somehow you’ve managed to do both.

You take pride in your friendship with Miguel; it’s not something easily accomplished and more often, a feat people are too afraid to try for. You get it, he can be intimidating, but you’ve gotten a glimpse beneath that rough exterior. He isn’t some terrifying monster waiting to attack at any given moment.

If he was a monster, he wouldn’t take time out of his day to make sure you eat three meals a day.

He wouldn’t ask for your advice on handling anomalies, much less listen as intently as he does.

He wouldn’t let you literally hang around his office and annoy him to no end during your downtime.

You know Miguel’s a good man. Is he a little too stern with the others? Yes. Does he take his job too seriously sometimes? Also yes. But you couldn’t imagine you’d be any other way if you were in his position.

He’s a good boss and a good friend—quite possibly your best friend—someone you trust with your life, and you’re about ninety-eight percent sure he feels the same about you. At least, you hope so. It’s that, or you’ve suddenly become really bad at reading people.

“Widow, come in.”

Speak of the Devil.

“If it isn’t my favorite boss,” you smile, looking down at your watch just in time to see Miguel roll his eyes.

“I’m your only boss.”

“Still my favorite,” you laugh. “What’s up?”

“I need you to meet up with Jess. Lyla—”

“Oh, wait, let me guess! Lyla detected another anomaly, and you need your best spider-person to get the job?”

Miguel doesn’t even look at you, too busy with whatever’s on his monitors, as he lazily shrugs, “Yes, actually—”

“Wait, really?”

“—But he’s stuck on Earth-13122, so you’ll have to do.”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” you sigh, smile still playing at your lips. You catch the quirk of his lips, the tight swallow as he fights down a laugh.

It’s a shame; he has such a nice smile.

“Jess will fill you in on the details,” Miguel continues, back to business as usual.

“No problem, boss.“ Giving a mock salute, Miguel disappears, and you’re left gazing longingly after his visage. A small sigh escapes you, heart aching at his absence.

So, maybe Miguel isn’t just your best friend. Perhaps you’d like him to be something more, but you’ve been holding on to that hope for years with no indication that his feelings for you run deeper than platonic. It hurts having to deal with that fond pinch of your heart every time you see him, but you’ve resigned to dealing with it.

“You done pining yet, or do you need another minute?”

You damn near jump out of your skin at Jess’s voice, whirling around to come face-to-face with her.

“Oh hey, Jess! I didn’t see you there.” You try to laugh it off, looking everywhere but the woman smirking at you.

“Sure,” she teases. “You were too busy making eyes at—“

“Miguel said something about an anomaly?” you cut her off quickly. She gives you one last look that says you’ll definitely be talking about this later before shifting into business mode.

“We got a report about an unusually strong anomaly,” Jess explains, tapping away on her watch. “Due to the conditions of the universe he’s stuck in, Miguel thought you’d be the best for the job.”

A swirl of inter-dimensional orange mixes with the lush tropics of your universe’s floating islands behind her.

“He…did?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“His exact words were, and I quote, There’s no one better suited for the job. He asked me to come along to help you.”

“No, he didn’t,” you scoff. It isn’t unusual for you to be one of the first ones called to deal with anomalies, but it’s certainly not normal for you to take point.

“You can ask Lyla,” Jess shrugs as the portal blinks opens.

“Why? What’s up with this universe that I’m needed, specifically?”

Jess’s mouth quirks into a knowing grin, waving you over with one foot in the portal.

“You’ll see.”

“I thought you said it was one anomaly!” you scream at Jess, tucking and rolling down another massive sand dune to dodge an incoming swing from the amalgamation of muscles, tendons, and cybernetics that make up the anomalous Lizard.

“There was!” Jess shouts back, kicking off the undead Electro, who looks a little too much like an oversized Frankenstein’s Monster for you to take him seriously.

“Obviously not!” you huff. The unforgiving sun bears down on the four of you, the golden light of this universe’s eternal sunset reflecting off the molten sand. The grains scratch at your suit, visible heat waves rolling over the endless desert.

You duck from another swing of The Cyber-Lizard’s tail, sliding across the sand as he gives chase. You can see the heated sand pulling the moisture from his skin every time he touches it, the coarse epidermis cracking and splitting open.

Miguel was right about one thing, you think. The burning sunset colors of your suit shift with the sands, your skin absorbing every heatwave that rolls by to energize you. There really was no one better suited for the job.

The next time Cyper-Lizard leaps for you, you turn and run, trying to get closer to Jess and the Zombie-Electro. She holds her own well enough—you’d expect nothing less—despite having to abandon her bike to the difficult terrain of this universe.

“Jess, get down!” you shout, sliding down a sand dune toward her. She crouches down, and you launch yourself off the dune, soaring over her.

Zombie-Electro takes the opportunity to attack, one arm extending with a horrendous groan. The jagged bolts of electricity keeping him hovering in the air spark and stretch up his stitched-together body, preparing to launch from his hand.

You beat him to the punch, shooting a web that blocks his hand as you collide with him mid-air. He groans and swats at you, but you’re too quick, attaching to webbing on his hand and crawling around the length of his body.

You’re a chaotic blur of sticky silk, oranges, and reds, webs shooting from every direction as you wrap Zombie-Electro into a massive cocoon, trailing webs around him and shooting off the sticky fibers to tether him to the sandy ground.

Using his head as a springboard, you launch off of him, landing gracefully next to Jess.

“Not bad,” she laughs, staring up at your makeshift monument to watch your webs solidify.

“All in a day’s—“

“Move!”

The blunt force hits you first, the searing pain of heated metal sinking in a second later as Cyber-Lizard’s tail slams into your torso and launches you into the air.

You hear Jess shouting, and your watch beeps. The sand sparkles, a flash of orange across the ocean of molten gold beneath you, and something pulls you out of the air.

You land at the base of your Zombie-Electro tower, or rather Miguel lands with you held firmly in his arms.

“Oh hey, boss,” you say airily. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Though you can’t see his face, he groans, and you know he’s rolling his eyes. Miguel sets you on your feet, waiting an extra second to make sure you can stand on your own.

Pain blossoms across your torso, but your suit works fast to absorb the heat from Cyber-Lizard’s tail and use it to relax your muscles.

“I’m good, promise,” you wheeze, leaning against one of your web pillars. “Go help Jess.”

“Stay here,” Miguel commands before taking off.

“Yeah, no problem,” you nod, waiting until he’s joined the fight to slide to the ground and collapse against your webbing. “I’ll just hang here with my new friend.”

Zombie-Electro groans, a slight shock of electricity traveling down your webs to zap your shoulder.

Your peace doesn’t last long, a massive roar—more the sound of metal screeching against shredded vocal cords—echoing across the dunes. You barely have time to react, getting to your feet—ribs screaming at you in protest—just as Miguel and Jess come flying toward you.

Jess recovers easily, bracing herself and sliding across the sand to stop on your left, while Miguel collides with the harsh structure of your webs on your right.

“Welcome back,” you laugh, holding a hand out to Miguel. He takes it with a huff, using your body as an anchor to jump to his feet. “Think we should call for back—“

“No,” Miguel snaps, and you exchange a look with Jess.

“Miguel—“ You step forward, reaching out to him, but pain shoots up your ribs, knees buckling. They’re quick to catch you, Miguel wrapping an arm around you to keep you upright, and Jess keeping your head from hitting the web-scaffolding.

“We should—“

The familiar shiver crawls up your spine, settling into your brain, the chittering hiss echoing in your mind.

You react a split second before Jess can, the surge of adrenaline giving you the added strength to shove Jess and Miguel away from you as Cyber-Lizard’s claws tear into your back.

You react on pure instinct and survival.

Both hands braced against your web scaffolding, your suit expels all its collected heat in a massive blast. Cyber-Lizard roars as the heat hits the alloy of his cybernetics, the metal already beginning to melt.

He stumbles, but the base of your webs liquify under your touch, and you use the tacky silk to pull him into you just as the entire scaffolding collapses.

Everything feels…heavy.

Distant.

A constant ebb and flow of consciousness like you’re trapped underwater, waves crashing over you whenever you break the surface.

You’re awake, but you aren’t; still present in your body, aware of your surroundings, but unable to move or react.

You hear people talking around you, sometimes quietly, sometimes urgent. There’s beeping and whirring and occasionally the phantom pain of something pinching into your arm.

It all settles into quiet, and you’re left with your scattered thoughts and a gentle pressure in the palm of your right hand.

Thirst is the first thing to hit you when you wake up.

Your throat’s too dry to make noise, but your eyes peel open and instantly move to take note of your surroundings.

You’re back at HQ, lying in the infirmary without your mask.

Guess the anomalies were taken care of.

You feel the dull ache across your body, and you’re sure you have a collection of bruises and bumps to take care of. You can already feel the heat of your suit encasing your skin and working to help you heal. You wiggle your toes, roll your shoulders, then flex your hands. Everything’s working fine, except…

You flex your right hand again, feeling that same solid pressure in your palm. You squeeze, putting as much strength as you can muster into it.

What is—

“Stop it.”

Your head snaps to the right, ignoring the pain that shoots down your neck. Miguel sits in a chair beside your bed, eyes shut with one arm crossed over his chest and the other…

You turn your hand, fingers lacing through his as you squeeze again, far more gently this time.

He opens his eyes, peering down at you with his best stern look. It’s hard to take him seriously when he looks so tired, with deep bags under his bloodshot and swollen eyes, and stress lines more prominent.

“You look like shit.” You rasp out a laugh. Miguel raises an unamused brow, giving you a blatant once over as if to say have you seen yourself. You roll your eyes, carefully turning your head back to look at the ceiling.

“Did you catch—”

“Yes.”

“Is Jess oka—”

“Yes.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Furious.”

You nod, eyes sliding shut as you wait for the inevitable lecture. You wait a few seconds, then ten, then thirty. When Miguel doesn’t speak after a minute, you chance another glance at him to find him staring down at your linked hands with a look of blatant worry on his face.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, thumb running hesitantly across the back of his hand.

This is uncharted territory for you. Of course, he’s been worried about you before, but nothing more than asking if you were hurt after a mission.

He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“You flat-lined.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing you can think to say. Miguel scoffs out a laugh, turning to look at you with a shocked expression.

“You’re apologizing? For almost dying?” he asks in pure disbelief. You shrug, eyes focused on the ceiling. He shakes his head, muttering something to himself that you don’t catch.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” you mumble. Miguel sighs, hand sliding out of your grip—you already miss the warmth—as he leans back from you. A hurricane of emotions swirls inside you: shame, embarrassment, anger, heartache.

You could accept him being mad, but the least he could do was thank you for saving his life.

Your bed dips, and suddenly Miguel is hovering over you, large hands cradling your face and claws gently scratching against your temples.

Your mind goes blank, unable to look away from the intensity of his earthy brown gaze.

“You’re supposed to say, I’ll be more careful next time, Miguel,” he says, stern and low.

“I’ll be more careful next time, Miguel,” you repeat, blinking up at him.

He leans closer, voice soft, “I won’t put myself in harm’s way again, Miguel.”

“I won’t put myself in harm’s way again, Miguel.”

He leans closer again, inches away from your face.

“I promise to never leave you, Miguel.”

Your breath hitches, and you bring your hands up to lightly caress his. You know what he's gone through, the things that he's lost, the distance he's put between himself and any sort of real connection. It had been one of your main reasons for keeping your feelings to yourself, content to treasure your friendship.

You never imagined that he pictured you as anything more.

“Miguel—” he stills at the sound of your voice, “—I promise to never leave you.”

You barely get the words out before his mouth is on yours, years' worth of swallowed feelings and tension pouring out.

If this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

Miguel pulls away first, pressing his forehead to yours with a long exhale. “You know you’re not going on any missions for a while, right?”

“I could use a vacation,” you laugh, leaning up for another peck on his lips. “Spend some time with my favorite boss.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you with nothing but unfiltered affection. He kisses you again, quick and chaste, before leaning up to kiss your head, lips murmuring against your skin, “Get some rest.”

You nod, and he pulls away, standing from the bed. You expect him to leave, to head back to his office, but instead, he takes the seat next to the bed and leans back.

He works from his watch while you nod in and out of sleep. Exhaustion finally catches up with you, and the last thing you see is Lyla appearing on his shoulder with a wide, teasing grin, laughing, “About time.”

some spider facts!

✧ reader is based on the noble false widow spider, more specifically, the genus Steatoda Nobilis!

“Oh hey, Jess! I didn’t see you there.” You try to laugh it off, looking everywhere but the woman smirking at you.

✧ false widow spiders are known to have poor eyesight!

A swirl of inter-dimensional orange mixes with the lush tropics of your universe’s floating islands behind her.

✧ false widows were originally found in warm, tropic areas before spreading across the united kingdom and the us! they are also known to be ambush hunters, often going after flying prey from high up!

Miguel was right about one thing, you think. The burning sunset colors of your suit shift with the sands, your skin absorbing every heatwave that rolls by to energize you. There really was no one better suited for the job.

✧ false widows are often a combination of burnt red and orange colors, and can survive and thrive in extremely dry and hot areas without water!

You’re a chaotic blur of sticky silk, oranges, and reds, webs shooting from every direction as you wrap Zombie-Electro into a massive cocoon, trailing webs around him and shooting off the sticky fibers to tether him to the sandy ground.

✧ false widows often use the "attack wrap" against prey where their silk is quickly wrapped tightly around their victim

“Not bad,” she laughs, staring up at your makeshift monument to watch your webs solidify. *

✧ false widow cobwebs are similar to sticky fibers, while their scaffold silk is exceptionally strong! i embellished here a little to make reader's webs able to transfer between the two as they need it!

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 42: In Which The Daylight Is Dawning Pt. 3

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

::!TW!:: Depiction of self harm, but not in an unaliving way.

The concrete was still wet but it was setting quickly.

Without thinking twice you rushed past everyone in your way and dug your fingers into the mixture, prying and pulling and digging with all your might, but it was so thick and cold it was freezing your fingers. The bite of that icy cold was rendering your efforts to stall.

A large hand grabbed your forearm gently and pulled you back.

"It's ok, just relax," Karl assured you, a crooked smile meeting your visage full of panic, "I brought my favorite toys!" He exclaimed, dropping the huge bag off his shoulder, "explosives! Never know when you need 'em, right hot shot?"

Somehow his lack of, or refusal to show worry and concern helped calm your nerves for the most bizarre unknown reason. He seemed so sure of himself and it was comforting. At least someone was.

You were about to respond to Karl but Angie came flying down the stairs like a bat out of hell, which shocked you because you don't remember her disappearing at all.

"We gotta blow the fuckin' door NOW!!" She yelled, nearly slamming into Donna to stop herself, "I just came from the control room - " she paused and flashed her hands covered in blood, "mutants - the sun is already entering the silo! They have 10 minutes tops!"

Everything around you became unintelligible as they all began to speak at once. You sank into yourself as something else grabbed control of the wheel. A sudden flood of warmth ensnared you and your eyes shot up.

"The setup takes time and care! These bombs aren't ready-made - this isn't fuckin' McDonalds!!" Karl shouted, "If I blow this willy nilly the whole motherfuckin' tower might collapse!

"Are the tops of the silos accessible above ground?" you inserted quickly, "I can try to block out the sun from up there, buy us all some time."

There was really only a split second everyone was silently looking at you, then Karl sprung a giant grin on his face.

"She's a fuckin' genius, I know why Alcina likes her - c'mon fairy wings, let's go!"

Karl shoved everything he was holding in Dmitri's arms and patted him roughly on the shoulder, "you 'member the schematics, right? Lefty-loosey, righty-tighty, all that jazz, just don't push the splodey button until the amp light goes blue!"

You had no idea what the fuck he was talking about but you sure hoped Dmitri did, because Karl offered no more explanation or clarification and was grabbing your arm and hauling you through more of the underworld maze before you could blink.

Everything was in utter disarray as the two of you scrambled through the tunnels and corridors and passageways galore. There was plenty of carnage along the way too; dead bodies (mainly mutants to your relief) were splayed about here and there, the evident battle a chilling reminder that you were a very mortal being in a very deadly environment. Still, your mind was occupied with Alcina more than anything. The haste to squeeze every last drop out of every second to make them count giving you unwavering focus now.

Would there be anything to actually cover the silo opening? 

Would you be too late?

The thoughts had to come to a screeching halt as a very rickety metal ladder now faced you and Karl to the top of the particular part of this run down old building.

"Up ya go, sugar. That door to the left of the platform takes us right to the roof of the building."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Without further delay you took to the ladder and climbed, not bothering to wait for Karl, though he was right behind you. You ran down the even wobblier metal mesh platform and shoved your way through the almost rusted shut door, falling out into the bright sunlight. It was blinding and you covered your eyes as you eagerly searched for the silo top, finding it not too far off to the right of where you'd entered.

Karl was already on his way there and you followed, finding there to be a thick metal grate welded to the top of the wide silo opening. While this would make it easier to place things on to seal out the sun from below, you needed to find something to put there.

Your eyes couldn't help to gaze down the long dark tunnel below. You so wanted to be able to take time to see if you could see Alcina but this was the last time and place to doddle. 

Karl was already running about on the roof, looking for anything that he might be able to use for a shield against the sun, but there was barely anything worth having.

Displaced 2x4's, scrap metal not larger than a few feet wide or long, and the flooring to the roof was too secure to rip up either.

The sun was progressing. You were not.

As you were about to splay yourself over the grate, which really was far too large for just your body to make a difference, you heard and felt a familiarity come swooping in.

Your crows came cawing and flapping, landing next to you on the broad edge of the silo. 

You almost cried. 

Ebony was the first to hop to you and eye you curiously as if waiting for instruction.

"C-can you - can you all cover this and stop the sunlight from getting through down below?" 

Without so much as a pause, Ebony and the other five crows hopped onto a piece of rebar that made up the grate, spread their wings meticulously and created the most perfect make-shift wing umbrella you'd ever seen, completely blocking out all sunlight from below.

Several tears of relief went strolling down your freezing cheeks and you smiled, "thank you, thank you!" you whimpered, reaching out without thinking to stroke each of their heads with love and appreciation. In turn, to your surprise, you received tiny coos and purrs.

"I'll yell up to you from below when you can leave - thank you! I owe you all the croissants!"

A clatter pushed you back to the present and you looked behind you. Karl was standing there with the most 'what the literal fuck is happening' look on his face. The clattering seemed to be the large bit of scrap metal he had found somewhere along the line falling to the roof from his grasp. He just stood there, cock-eyed and slack-jawed.

There was little time for gawking. You rushed back over to him, wrapping your arms over your chest as the awareness of how damn cold it was up there smacked you across the face.

"The fuck was that?!" he blurted as the silent agreement to head back to the underground was put to action.

"Uh, well, they're my friends?" 

Yeah it sounded weird but you were literally talking to a lycan so, this was the farthest from the strangest thing that's ever happened in your life.

Karl chuckled loudly as he slammed the door behind him and the scaling of the ladder began once more. He grabbed the comm at his hip and radioed Dmitri, "you're clear to blow the son of a bitch, we, er fae-bae here got the top covered!"

"Copy. Charge still setting." 

"I'm gunna really look forward to getting to know you, bird-whispering fairy child - you are interesting as fuck," Karl mused as he led you back through the labyrinth of the underground.

You couldn't help but give him a look as he gave you a glance of his own, "fae-bae?" you inquired with a raised eyebrow.

He cackled, "get used to it; nicknames are my specialty. You outta hear some of the ones I have for your woman."

Your woman. 

Yes, she was your woman and you were hers. Even in this dire circumstance that gave you a blanketing warmth. And so many flooding emotions came from this and the enveloping of it was giving you more strength to carry on. This tidal wave of memories and feelings weaved through you and sewed you together for whatever lie ahead; you were ready; you were ready.

"Somehow I'm sure she has plenty for you as well; I may or may not have heard a few," you tested playfully.

"Oh yeah?" he asked just as the two of you were turning down another corridor, unfortunately being met with a rogue mutant far from the herd.

Karl's reflexes kicked in immediately and he shoved you out of the way into the neighboring wall, drew his gun as he kicked the mutant in the chest and began to blast. But it didn't go down as fast as the others had. It rose and charged Karl again. This time it was met by Karl's large fist to the face, the butt of the gun to the top of its head, and as soon as he put more distance between them, shot at it again and again. It only snarled and shrieked with rage and lunged once more.

You took this moment to test your magick, just to be sure you had the grip on it like you felt you did.

While Karl was almost getting bested in this fight, you hunkered down on the floor against the wall and held out your palms, focusing on the mutant with the need to protect, like you had with Malka. And you'll be damned if it didn't start to slow down, sputter, and stall as the sensation of prickly stinging numbness flowed through you. 

As Karl went to make his final blow with a gun barrel between the eyes, you saw the blood swelling in the mutant's eyelids before the bang went off.

It dropped like a bag of rocks and you smirked wickedly.

Yes, you were very much in control. Good. Because you wholeheartedly planned on killing Mother Miranda as soon as you had the chance.

You were slowly uncrouching from your spot when you realized Karl was yet again looking at you like you had become a tiny green alien in the last five seconds.

"Wh - what - the fuck? D-did you help me, did you do that??? Is that what you did to Mother Miranda? Do you just like - fry bodily circuitry or some shit?!"

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious, "I'm not entirely sure? I don't know what my magick does exactly. My friend calls it 'mind EMP'."

Karl burst out laughing and holstered his gun, offering his arm to you as you both stepped over the dead body, "Hoooly heyseuss kreestoose! We need a couple hundred of you to keep around; you're useful in a fight. Keep your bag of tricks handy, just don't mind EMP any of my bombs or electronics, ok?"

Your surroundings were becoming more familiar as the disjunct conversation was becoming quieter, and as the two of you made it down the same set of stairs you came in, you heard Dmitri's voice holler; "Charge is hot - cover!".

A loud pop echoed followed by a sharp bang that stung your ears, followed by a reverberating miniature shock wave that knocked you into the wall.

The view was a relief to your whole system.

Through the small puff of rising smoke and settling dust, the archway that had been sealed up was open and the entry inside was dark.

Donna was the first to climb over and through the rubble to get inside, Dmitri second, Angie remained outside the debris grinning like a mad-woman as she saw the two of you approach. You were set to head in as well but Karl grabbed you and held you steady.

"Hold on, let them bring her out."

He said as if he could read your damn mind.

From inside the hollow dark silo you could hear muffled, raspy female voices barely conversing with Donna. Several clangs and what seemed to be chains dropping to the stone floor echoed through, and then shuffling as Alcina's three girls were brought out first.

You'd heard Alcina talk about them at length, and even as defeated and worn as they looked, they were even more beautiful still than Alcina had described to you. Several bickering emotions decided to show their faces, but being overtaken by fear, uncertainty, and like the weird boyfriend mom brings home after divorcing dad and trying to make nice with the kids was not something you could deal with. This was not your place at all.

They were too tired to notice you anyway, and Donna had immediately dug through her bag and handed each of them what you deduced to be bags of blood to drink.

Everyone's attention now lie at the mouth of the silo once more, bated breaths waiting for Alcina's arrival.

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest and through you whole body you felt like you were actually pulsing. Time felt so stupidly slow as you waited, as everyone waited, until Dmitri emerged with a limp, bloodied, grey-skinned Alcina in his arms.

Your feet molded to the ground. You couldn't force your muscles to move. She looked in a way you never ever wanted to see; dead.

Her once cream colored blouse was shredded and stained with crimson. Her skin slashed and gouged from each whip lashing. Dried blood covered her upper body, down her arms, splattered haphazardly around her neck, and some of her very sunken face. 

Everything fell to the pit of your stomach. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. The shock of what you were looking at immobilized you.

Dmitri carefully laid her down on the ground. You realized then how quiet it was as every little sound of the shuffling of fabric against skin and stone was almost violently loud in your ears.

The state of Alcina's shirt gave her barely a hint of modesty in its tatters, the very stark contrast of her black bra glaring against the cream, grey and red. And you could see then a very deep, ugly wound just below her sternum. A stab wound. One that gave you an ill remembrance of a story she once told you, and a scar you can recall all too vividly on her side. You don't know how you knew, but you knew.

Donna was immediately retrieving another bag of blood, hooking a tube to the opening at the top, hunkering down at Alcina's side and carefully placing the article to her dry, thin parted lips. She began to squeeze the liquid from the bag as her daughters gathered around their mother as the blood was administered.

Cassandra and Daniela held tightly to Alcina's hands as Bela propped her head and upper body up to help the blood flow down her throat.

You were frozen in your place. Still barely breathing. Making deals with unknown deities for your lover's recovery.

Karl sensed your disconcerted demeanor and carefully wrapped his arm around your mid back and pushed you forward so you could see.

Still, you could hardly move or force a reaction as the painful suspense dug its claws into your heart.

If she died, or was already gone, you could not fathom what the future would even look like.

You could not fathom a world... your world... without her in it.

Through the deep concentration of draining bag after bag of blood into their Matriarch, Donna thoroughly checked Alcina's forehead, throat, cheeks, and chest for something you couldn't understand. Warmth, maybe? Any sign of life? And the more this went on the worse the lines became in Donna's lovely face.

"It's not... it's not changing her state," she blurted, quite upset, tossing another empty bag with contempt across the hall, "her blood loss is too great, I don't have enough reserves with us to help her the way she needs - we need to get her to a medical bay immediately."

"The city is far too overrun and we have no idea where Mother Miranda is, the risk is not in our favor."

"She will die if we don't!" Donna barked at Dmitri's warning, "our options are none as it stands right now; it is either the risk or her death - what's it going to be?"

Donna, Dmitri, the three girls and Karl had a duel of exchanged silent looks until you couldn't stand the feeling of uncomfortable electricity sparking in your nervous system.

"Does anybody have a knife?" you asked, splitting the quiet, gaining everyone's attention, "My blood might help."

Donna blinked rapidly, "I've already given her six packs - she needs intravenous blood administration - "

"That blood isn't my blood. I'm not human, remember?"

Before another word could be exchanged, the sound of a switchblade flinging open could be heard and Angie stepped closer to the group, brandishing a sharp, shiny blade.

"Hi! Middle name's shiv, or shank," she grinned wildly, "er, should be anyway."

"Everybody move back," Cassandra chimed in, nodding at you briskly, "please, try."

The tension could not have been any tighter as you stepped forward and grabbed the knife from Angie, swiftly and precisely kneeling down next to Alcina as you rolled your sleeve up as far as it would go over your elbow. The sight of her this close made her condition all the more dire and you quickly placed the blade to the vein in the crook of your elbow and punctured it. Bela propped Alcina as close to you as she could; you placed the spilling blood to her lips, and grasped her freezing cold shoulder for more support; Donna held to the other side of your arm to alleviate stress to the blood flow, and you all knelt there in great anticipation as the seconds ticked on. You so wanted to wrap her up in your arms and care for her like you would in your apartment, but you didn't dare in front of everyone, especially her daughters. You had to put on a strong, distant front.

Your arm began to ache as you were starting to feel a coolness set in, but you closed your eyes and held fast. You could smell the thick metallic of her dried blood all over her and it made you wince, thinking about the pain she must have endured, and how badly you wanted to make them all pay for this. It was consuming how violent you felt inside. 

After at least a minute, which felt more like fifteen, you felt a warmth engulf the crook of your elbow; Alcina's tongue.

Looking over almost dizzyingly quick, you could see her eyelids fluttering and a smile burst across your face. You let go of your breath and held even tighter to Alcina as you felt her begin to drink voluntarily, her shoulder was no longer freezing cold and something even warmer than her tongue sprung loose inside you.

"It's working." You said softly, hearing the rest of the collective sighs of relief echo through the area.

Where Alcina had been in the dark, bleak confines of her mind before she felt life tingling inside her again was a place she didn't wish to return to. While everything was still in slow motion, she could comprehend the beautiful sensation of the hot, rich, satisfying blood that was coursing through her mouth and down her throat as yours. What a way to come back from the brink of nothingness. Her strength was slowly waxing and her senses began to creep up, but the wounds she had endured were becoming more and more fitful in the fight to heal. Your blood was vigorous and relentless and Alcina knew when the dam burst, the pain and brutal retaking of her body would be unpleasant at best.

And that moment was now.

Like an army breaking through battle lines, Alcina's body, at the mercy and aid of your blood, began to heal and reanimate itself with ferocity. Yanking her head back from wherever she had been feeding off you, Alcina cried out as the excruciating sensation of being reborn pummeled every sense in her body. It burned. It itched. It spasmed. It cracked and broke and then spilled out and over into a soothing warmth and numbness as some normalcy seeped back in.

With fluttering lids, she opened her eyes to see every face that was near and dear to her heart.

You. Her daughters. Donna. Dmitri. Angie. And, yes, even Heisenberg.

Bela, with the help of her sisters, scooted Alcina back towards the wall and sat her upright there. The three of them fawned over her through quiet whimpering relief as they clung to her with secure embraces.

"Shhh, Sunt aici. Sunt aici," she cooed, "iubitele mele, suntem cu toții aici."

(Shhh... I'm here. I'm here - my loves, we are all here.)

As you were being aided by Donna quickly wrapping your arm with a tight bandage, Alcina's slate colored eyes found yours and she offered you the most endearing smile you think you had ever seen in your life. It was a knowing smile. A proud smile. A smile that wordlessly said thank you in a way no language on the planet could express.

"Looong live The Real HBIC!" Angie shouted, accompanied by a short celebratory dance, "Woooooo yeah! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! Now when the fuck can we go kick the rest of the smelly ass down here?!"

Well, the tender moment was short lived.

"Ang, please," Donna huffed, trying her best to stifle her smile, "Alcina still needs more nourishment and we need the rest of a plan."

"I'm with Angie," Karl butted in, giving Alcina a tip of his hat, "we got hot shot mind melter and our Matriarch back, let's go whoop some ass."

It wasn't so much bickering as it was very energetic clashing of ideas, but as they all spoke above you animatedly, you and Alcina once more stole calm, loving glances at the other through Donna shoving more blood bags in her face to drink and her daughters clinging to her for dear life, until a clobbering sound from the other stairwell shot everything into a halt.

Unceremoniously came a plump, sheepishly hunched figure from the shadows.

Salvatore Moreau slowly slipped into the light and the sound that followed had everyone rattled to the bone.

The throaty, shrill shriek had come from none other than Donna herself.

The tiny brunette had sprung from the floor and charged the vampire in question, pinning him to the wall as she bore her teeth in utter fury; "TRAITOR!" She screamed, her hand around his throat with nails threatening to pierce his flesh, "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS WITH YOUR LIFE! I KNOW YOU AIDED MIRANDA - I KNOW YOUR FILTHY LITTLE HANDS HAVE BEEN ALL OVER THIS TREACHERY AND I PROMISE TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERY DISCRETION UNDER THE SUN!"

During Donna's rage, Angie had donned perhaps the most psychotic look of glee any of them had ever seen. Even Karl was a little unnerved as he watched the whole thing unfold. Alcina had risen from the floor, and she too had now a look of murder on her stoic face. Dmitri had joined her side and you were watching quite unsure what to do with yourself next to the wall. 

"Please!" He squeaked, holding up his hands shakily, "Please, just wait! I have information! Information about Miranda! The mutants! I come in truce!! I have information you need if you want to win this war!"

Donna snarled even louder as she sunk her claws into his neck, "Why should I believe you?!"

"Because! Because! I - I realize - I realize I made a huge mistake! I chose the wrong side! PLEASE you must trust me!"

Karl carefully and hesitantly nudged the deranged looking Angie, "you uh... wanna do something about your sister?"

Angie's big eyes glanced at Karl momentarily, "oh... oh yeah!"

And she was off like a bolt, knife in hand accompanied by a cackle.

"No, n-not like that!" he huffed, dropping his head to rub at at exasperatedly, "I meant to stooop her from killing him, not help - oh Jesus fucking Christ what's the use." he muttered to himself.

Now Salvatore was at the mercy of two very deadly Beneviento sisters. His face showed every ounce of his dread as his big beady eyes shot from one sister's face to the next, knees quivering as he swallowed with struggle. 

"P-please, please, listen... I want to help," he swallowed once more through Donna's claws and Angie's knife pressed to his jugular.

Donna was still seething but paused, taking time to calculate and reason with her own rage before clicking her tongue loudly, "Alcina? Your call."

You blinked hastily as you watched with eagerness, noticing the very elegant and nonchalant movements of Alcina as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Bring him to me." 

She commanded with a dominance that made you weak in the knees.

He was yanked from the wall, drug to Alcina and thrown at her feet. He showed no signs of struggle or the urge to flee for his life, which in your humble opinion, would have been a smart move.

Alcina glowered down at him and pursed her lips, looking more and more like herself as the minutes passed.

She placed her hands on her hips swiftly which made him jerk in fear, but she remained unmoved, "it's a little late in the game to be switching sides, don't you think?" she snapped.

"My Lady," he quivered, bowing his head sharply, "please, My Lady, I am a coward and I will not deny it. Mother Miranda offered me falsity. Her lies I thought were truths became apparent the moment she made her move. It is never too late to redeem oneself from the side of tyranny. Please, let me tell you what I know, you will not defeat her otherwise."

"You seem awfully sure of this," Alcina bit.

"That is because, as Donna has said, I have been part of this from the beginning."

Silence permeated the area once more as all focus went to Alcina. Her eyes never left the sniveling man at her feet.

"Then speak."

The next several minutes was a verbal vomit of information that had everyone pretty fucking shocked.

Mother Miranda, in her psychotic search for perfection, had begun breeding and mutating parasites nearly ten years ago to infect fledglings to whatever end to make them into the mindless, deadly, stealth machines that had invaded their city. Salvatore explained her brutal trial and errors and the horrific mutations that had gone wrong and how simply she discarded vampire after vampire like a broken toy. How that when she had perfected the mutation to her liking as it stood now, she infected herself with the queen parasite DNA that gave her the complete control over the hive-mind of the vampires she controlled. When she is at her peak strength and ability, they are the deadliest creatures known to any vampire or lycan imaginable. But therein lies the Achilles heel to this creation.

"I had hypothesized it well enough in my own mind, but it wasn't until I realized you," he stated, nodding to you in the midst of everyone else, "had escaped and in the attempt wounded Mother Miranda, that the so-called hive mind did in fact falter. If Mother Miranda is vanquished, they become unarmed. They will have had their tie to their very reason for existence severed, hence, they will have no direction and they will quite literally be living statues. So, in order to win this fight, you must keep Miranda's strength at a bare minimum. You must keep her down. Otherwise, at full strength, there will be none left alive in the underground."

Once more, Salvatore's eyes returned to you, "whatever you have done to her, she is still recovering. In all my many years of serving Mother, I have never seen any foe deal such damage the way you have," his focus went back to Alcina, "but she is recovering, that is the part that is the most important. If you want to win this you need to act quickly and hastily. Your lycans and vampires have done much damage to many mutants, but at their best, ten of your men cannot best even one of them."

Not even fifteen seconds had passed before Karl was clapping and rubbing his hands together eagerly, "Aight, so, lessss go?" he gestured shamelessly towards the staircase.

"Not without more of a plan," Dmitri growled, "if Miranda is getting stronger we can't run out there guns blazing the way you like it, we'll start losing too many too fast."

Alcina sucked the last drop of blood from the last pack and threw it aside with a sharp sigh, "We haven't the time for planning. I need to find Miranda and bring her down."

"You can't do that alone," Donna added, "please let Angie and I help you."

"No, I need you both in the field - Angie I need your stealthy expertise to be the eyes and ears for the troops, can you do that?"

Angie nodded, "fuck yeah."

"Heisenberg, I need you, your men, and your explosives rigged in the best and most efficient way possible when that bitch begins to falter. Can you do that?"

"Roger!"

"Dmitri, I need you and your men ready to back up the lycans in their wave of attacks and whatever tricks lie in that brilliant military brain of yours, can I count on you?"

"Always, My Lady."

Alcina's eyes skimmed over you with a wink and settled on Donna and her girls, "and you three... I want Ethan and Mia captured. Alive. Make that happen."

Her daughters beamed with a wicked glint in their eyes, "yes mother," they all replied.

"Karl, arm them to the teeth."

Grabbing his chest in the most dramatic way possible, Karl staggered back and looked up at Alcina with a silent gasp, "y-you called me Karl! Oh my god, did y'all hear that? She called me Karl. See that? Near death experiences change a person. It's like she likes me or something."

Alcina narrowed her eyes, "keep it up and I won't like you again."

Karl beamed and straightened his hat.

Donna was still less than sold.

"I don't want you facing her by yourself."

"You'll be doing something much more important for me," Alcina smiled warmly, "you'll be protecting her," she motioned over to you.

You almost did a double take, "uh, sorry, not to be disrespectful but no, I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are," Alcina retorted furrowing her brows, "this vampire in question is hellaciously unpredictable and deadly -"

"And off her rocker - yeah I know," you interrupted, "we've met personally and I escaped her."

Her face dropped cold, "you what?"

"Yeah, you haven't been brought up to speed!" Karl waltzed over, shouldering you playfully, "your fae-bae here escaped Miranda's sticky lil fingers after mind blasting her ass - pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I got first hand experience with her magick when she helped me fight off a mutant before we came and saved you. I uh, I'd reconsider taking the nuclear bombshell with ya," he winked at you, "two hell cats are better than one, baby! AND she's got a legion of crows at her command or some shit, that's how we blacked out the silo."

"Oh shit!" you exclaimed, remembering you'd not released your crows from their post, "and technically, they're called a murder."

Smirking at Karl you jutted to your right, hopped your way over the rubble of the blown blockade and peered up into the silo. It was still completely dark and you smiled, "you all did wonderful!" you shouted up to them, your voice carrying loud and clear, "thank you Ebony, Ash, Onyx, Noir, Sidda, and Shade! Please get home safely and be warm!"

Their caws echoed down to you and one by one they took to the sky, leaving a remaining brightness from the clear sky now that the sun had passed.

When you returned to the hall, Karl was shaking his head with his arms folded over his chest.

"Named every one of 'em, did ya?"

You returned his grin, "and?"

Alcina's eyes went from Karl to you, back to him and then you again before she was able to really collect herself. There was a lot to digest right at this moment. She had to choose wisely as to what she was ready to take a bite of. The crow issue was last on her list, you and your powers were at the top of it, screaming.

The two of you had only briefly spoken about the changes you were going through before Donna showed up and everything promptly fell apart. She didn't want to believe you had grown so much and she'd missed it all, but she more less wanted to believe you weren't strong enough to go with her, risking your safety if it wasn't necessary.

"Draga..." she stated softly, "this is... this is not a danger I want you anywhere near ever again."

You watched as her hands carefully rested on your shoulders, eying you in that beautifully desperate way.

"Uhm... Mother?" 

Came a voice you'd not heard before.

"Poate nu ar trebui să te îndoiești de ea. Cum ai încredere în noi acum, poate că ar trebui să-i dai la fel." Cassandra stated with a knowing smile.

(Maybe you should not doubt her. As you trust us now, perhaps you should give her the same.)

Man, you needed to learn Romanian.

Whatever her daughter had said gave Alcina great pause. The smile she gave Cassandra made you smile by proxy, it was so genuine and soft.

Taking one last look at you, Alcina dropped her hands and turned to gather everyone's attention.

"I have faith in all of you. Go, quickly. Make this a battle that will be painted in remembrance for whatever outcome lies ahead of us. Let our valiance and spite be known. Violently."

She turned back to Donna and took a deep breath, "I would like you to make use of Moreau. If he makes one move you don't like, kill him. But if he is truly set to redeem himself, use whatever knowledge he has and exploit it to our every advantage."

Donna nodded somberly, "and... you are off to find Miranda?"

"Yes," Alcina smiled, "and I won't be going alone."

Two sets of beautiful eyes from two beautiful women now rested on you.

[ritunn]

Trans in Golarion: A Sample of Pathfinder's Trans Representation

Golarion, like any world, is home to people of many walks of life, but one thing it does very well is trans representation. There isn't a Lost Omens lore book without at least one trans character, in fact there's typically multiple! So, with pride month here, I wanted to highlight some of my favorites that don't get much press. Shardra, the shaman iconic, and Mios, the thaumaturge iconic (both pictures above) are one trans woman and enby you're probably familiar with already, but let's get you acquainted with some more! If you aren't of course acquainted with them, I recommend reading the Meet the Iconic stories for them.

Meet Shardra Geltl!

Meet Mios!

Iltara Clavela

Lost Omens Grand Bazaar, Pg. 48

The owner of Material Changes in Absalom, a fashion boutique, day spa, and a place where not only can your clothing be changed, bur your entire body, Iltara was born in Irrisen to the far north. Born to two parents who made a bargain with a winter fey to have a son that could wield fey magic of frost and winter so that he could lead their army in a wretched second Winter War, this wouldn't be the case. For the fey realized that he had not a male spirit, but a female one instead and that he would never lead anyone in war. The child begged her parents to let her abdicate her name and find the magic to align body with spirit, but they refused. So, when enlisted, she fled and found the fey to ask for the body she desired, but the fey could do no thing. Coming up with a second plan, the child asked if it could help her escape and to that it agreed, only for her name. A simple bargain, one that was happily made as the child renamed herself Iltara.

From then on, she would use her skills to take on odd jobs, but never used her magic for fear of revealing herself as a winter witch. Eventually, she helped fixed the clothes of some entertainers who invited her on as their seamstress and when she had grown close enough to them, she revealed her magic and she was asked to perform herself as a magician. Iltara agreed, only if they helped her find the magic she sought. The group toiled and the entertainers were confused by her obsession until she emerged with an enhanced visage. Illtara had finally achieved what she always dreamed of and now helps make the process for others like her much easier.

Ahran Benimaya

Lost Omens Grand Bazaar Pg. 36

Another merchant within the Grand Bazaar, Ahran is the tattooist at Kraken's Ink Tattoos, working there with his boyfriend, the azarketi, Brine. Growing up in the devil worshipping capital of Cheliax, Ahran's family were Shelynites, devotees of the goddess of art, Shelyn (who is quite queer herself may I add). However, with the state religion focused firmly on Asmodeus who isn't exactly a fan of the more chaotic free loving goddess, Ahran's family had to be careful. However, Ahran himself grew to be a talented artist to the joy of his parents, a skill he'd make use of upon moving to Absalom once one of their neighbors warned them they'd been accused of heresy and had to flee.

There, Ahran saw a shop selling a serum of sex shift for sixty gold pieces and thought it'd be the best way to align his body to his true identity. However, making that much money would be no simple task drawing portraits of others at Absalom's docks for copper pieces. So, he went to Kraken's Ink Tattoos and asked to become an apprentice to tattooist and owner at the time, Maelara, a tiefling dwarf of exceptional skill. Maelara found her new apprentice shared that skill, his artistic talents coming in handy, and soon enough he had enough gold to purchase the serum and become who he was always wished to be. A decade later Maelara retired and Ahran has run the shop ever since. If you ever need a magic tattoo (or just some normal ink), he's your man and even features in book one of the Stolen Fate adventure path.

Ishii Bunji

Lost Omens Firebrands Pg. 42

A member of the revolutionary group called the Firebrands, Ishii "The Tyrant Breaker" Bunji is infamous for his jubilant demeanor and towering physique as a former sumo champion. One of the many people who aided in tearing down the tyranny of the Jade Regent in his homeland of Minkai, Ishii helped rebuild afterwards but a question stirred in his heart. "What good is strength if not used to protect the vulnerable?" This led him to joining the Firebrands and eventually becoming one of their most formidable warriors. Able to win fights against champions, spellcasters, war machines, and even battalions himself, he joins small rebellions rather than full revolutions, an equalizing force that nothing can stop. When the rebellion is over, he stays behind to rebuild, cooking his signature hot pot for others in his massive shield that also happens to be a family heirloom, a singing steel cooking pot. A symbol of not only protection, but one of hearty meals and a better tomorrow. These actions have lead him to receiving many love letters and quite a few lovers as well, but he's not quite interested in marriage and thus remains the Firebrands' most eligible bachelor.

Passenger

Lost Omens Firebrands Pg. 45

Passenger was among the many androids who crashed in Numeria, unlike many androids, all of Passenger's companions had died. Every other incubator held incomplete or damaged bodies and the only sign of identity they had was a damaged plaque calling them "Passenger #-". Taking this as their name, they ventured into Numeria and were taken in by a group of scavengers who they soon left when they heard the Black Sovereign Kevoth-Kul, ruler of Numeria, was accepting androids into his court in the capital of Starfall. There they met more of their kind and learned of their android nature, but when a group of Firebrands made their way to the court looking to enter the dangerous Silver Mount for adventure, Passenger was intrigued and tagged along.

This adventure left Passenger wanting more and they declared themselves a first-mark Firebrand and staged even more expeditions into the Silver Mount with their tinkering experience and any who wished to join helping them. One of these people was Tyen-Ra, a human tigerkin, and over the next few months they discovered an annihilator robot which they fixed up and named Scrapheap. Using their newly found scorpion mech, they left Numeria and accumulated more members and a reputation as the Fire's Finest, traveling across Avistan searching for adventure, fine food, and fun wherever they went. Scaring a few along the way with their terrifying mech, only to ease their fears when the Fire's Finest popped out.

Beirivelle Starshine

Lost Omens Knights of Lastwall Pg. 42

The Knights of Lastwall are home to numerous prominent trans women, most notably Anevia, a major NPC in Wrath of the Righteous, and the leader of the organization, Kalabrynne Iomedar. Beirivelle herself is newly knighted but already rising through the ranks with her skills as a bard devoted to Shelyn. Born in Absalom to a noble family, Beirivelle was arranged to marry another high-ranking member of Absalom's noble houses and live an uneventful life. When the lich known as the Whispering Tyrant attacked the city, however, she realized she wanted more from life. Her spouse's tastes thankfully weren't very feminine and she was able to exit it gracefully, but she only was able to flee home after an intense argument with her father.

Ever since becoming a Knight of Lastwall, however, the dainty romantic has been making alliances for the organization, first with the Scarlet Rose after a candlelight dinner with its leader, Filarina Grantsliem. In addition to these duties, she gathers stories as any bard does, adventuring with anyone from the brutal orc skullhunters to the Chelaxian Hellknight Order of the Torrent who hunt down kidnappers, aiding all with her divine magic and bardic knowledge. As well, she finds other "late blooming" girls and those who have yet to bloom at all and helps them find their own path away from harsh families or dire circumstances. For now in her official duties, she uses her diplomatic skills to recruit adventurers and locals, doing her best to protect them. All the while trying to court the anti-Geb factions of Nex who despise the necropolis for the decades long war the country had with it, hoping to get their help with dealing with the undead. That is proving difficult to do as it feels impossible to navigate its byzantine court politics. Thus, she continues her search for allies to aid in that endeavor.

Conclusion

You have any trans characters you love in Pathfinder not mentioned here? I know Il'setsya Wyrmtouched is one I adore and even a character belonging to freelancer, Amber Stewart, who has done work for many TTRPG companies, even getting her own villainous arcanoloth featured in D&D's Planescape book. Perhaps you'd like to share your own trans TTRPG characters whether in Pathfinder, D&D, or another game! If so, I'd love to see them.

[faerunscursed]

Growing up as the child of Duke Ravenguard meant several things, one which including access to an extensive library of books for studies. As such when one of the things Wyll did was retreat to those books, his favorites included that of the tales of the Night song. Tales of heroism that toppled even over his father's accomplishments drew his eyes in. For a lone angel explored all of faerun and beyond, saving the many denizens of it and slaying monsters, undead and demons alike in her path.

As a boy he longed to be like her, just like he had his father. However, many told him that she was only a story, that she wasn't real. If she was real than why would they ever have to worry about the battles in which they found themselves in constantly? This was further made worse by the fact that for the last 100 years the night song seemed to disappear. Almost as if she didn't exist and eventually he too began to believe that. Yet her acts of heroism stuck to him as much of his hatred of his father for the actions he had made that fateful day.

This was why he was so stunned now as his eyes caught the visage of the night song of herself, Dame Aylin. She had been captured by Ketheric Thorm and tucked away by Shar. He sighed with relief knowing that one of the figures he looked up to was real, and in the flesh before him. But what would she think of a man who made a deal with a devil and had become one himself? Would she know of the Blade of Frontiers?

Wyll slowly approached the angel, taking a deep breath as he did so. "So, you're the nightsong? I had hoped you more than just a fairytale." He bowed his head in reverence, though knowing that Mizora would want him to have nothing to do with such a pure being. As it was his was having a hard time containing his own excitement. "I read all about you, as a kid, I wanted to be so much like that you it partially inspired the man I am now."

He held out his hand to shake hers, a formal greeting. "But where are my manners, I am Wyll Ravenguard, son of Duke Ulder Ravenguard." Though the mere mention of his fathers name made his chest ache with the rage he felt towards the man. "Or perhaps you might have heard of the Blade of Frontiers. Either way, it is a pleasure meeting you, though I had hoped to meet you under less gruesome appearance. I wasn't always this way, you see." @ferinehuntress

[radioiaci]

SHIP VERSE TAG DUMP > verse ;; 🌹 la vie en rose 🌹 - @cannibalxroses verse ;; ⭐ nobody's eyes but mine ⭐ - @voxtekoverlord verse ;; 🔥 the fire in the sin 🔥 - @ducktastic-dad verse ;; 🍎 red means i love you 🍎 - @heliacalxrising verse ;; 🐍 i'm ready now 🐍 - @sirserpentine verse ;; 🦊 your favorite monster 🦊 - @misskittyhart verse ;; 😈 devil's whisper 😈 - @visage-of-hell verse ;; 🩸 bloodstain on the bed 🩸- @kingdomofbellows verse ;; 🤡 fools and kings 🤡 - @infernal-blaze (fizzarolli)

[tangledinourstrings]

Favorite First Time Watches of 2023

Martyrs (2008) directed by Pascal Laugier

オーディション (Audition, 1999) directed by 三池 崇史 (Takashi Miike)

The Vampire Lovers (1970) directed by Roy Ward Baker

ギニーピッグ2 血肉の華 (Guinea Pig 2: Flower of Flesh and Blood, 1985) directed by 日野日出志 (Hideshi Hino)

아가씨 (The Handmaiden, 2016) directed by 박찬욱 (Park Chan-wook)

薔薇の葬列 (Funeral Parade of Roses, 1969) directed by 松本 俊夫 (Toshio Matsumoto)

Les Yeux Sans Visage (Eyes Without a Face, 1960) directed by Georges Franju

Malá mořská víla (The Little Mermaid, 1976) directed by Karel Kachyňa

ハウス (House, 1977) directed by 大林 宣彦 (Nobuhiko Obayashi)

Misery (1990) directed by Rob Reiner

Scream (1996) directed by Wes Craven

Ginger Snaps (2000) directed by John Fawcett

ギニーピッグ マンホールの中の人魚 (Guinea Pig: Mermaid in a Manhole, 1988) directed by 日野日出志 (Hideshi Hino)

ギニーピッグ4 ピーターの悪魔の女医さん (Guinea Pig 4: Devil Woman Doctor, 1986) directed by 喰始 (Hajime Tabe)

LSD -ラッキースカイダイアモンド- (Lucky Sky Diamond, 1989) directed by 橋本 以蔵 (Izo Hashimoto)

Creep (2014) directed by Patrick Brice

Creep 2 (2017) directed by Patrick Brice

Wilczyca (She-Wolf, 1983) directed by Marek Piestrak

Five Nights at Freddy's (2023) directed by Emma Tammi

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) directed by Robert Aldrich

Barbie (2023) directed by Greta Gerwig

The Little Mermaid (2023) directed by Rob Marshall

La Morte Vivante (The Living Dead Girl, 1982) directed by Jean Rollin

私の赤い腸 (はな) (Women's Flesh: My Red Guts, 1999) directed by 穴留玉狂 (Tamakichi Anaru)

無残絵: AVギャル殺人ビデオは存在した！(Celluloid Nightmares, 1999) directed by 山内大輔 (Daisuke Yamanouchi)

Lisa, Lisa (a.k.a. Axe, 1974) directed by Frederick R. Friedel

血の海の美女 (The Lady in the Sea of Blood, 1997) directed by 沖本 (Okimoto)

処女のはらわた (Entrails of a Virgin, 1986) directed by 小水 一男 (Kazuo Komizu)

[adventuresloane]

The Wanted (Revised Hurloane Fic) - Chapter 10

“They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short ‘n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids.”

Hurley’s a bounty hunter, the Raven is an outlaw, and the desert is a lonely place.

(The 50k+ Old West Hurloane AU Where Hurley Becomes A Thief Too that no one asked for. Edited and reposted from an old version of the story. T for non-graphic violence and discussions of death/injury/trauma.)

Read on AO3

Other Chapters

The trains came to be their favorites. Up close, the sound was wonderfully brutal. Hurley's ribs clattered with the hiss and clank of it all, and it made them revel inside.

Sometimes the two of them went for the supply trains. Even the rail lines meant for carrying herded cattle to market typically had some cars stocked with other goods, rattling unguarded at the tail ends of the locomotives. If they were lucky, they could find supplies they needed and take them. When they didn't, though, they would sometimes ride in the rumbling black gut of the great creature anyway, stowing in the cars with room for them. (Hurley insisted they only do that if there was also room to load the ever placid horse, who traveled splendidly, thank the gods.) This way, they could travel in hours what might have taken them days otherwise. Hurley would watch the land blur as the train sped by. They learned to fall asleep to the din that wrapped around them like a quilt, to the shaking of the sliding car doors.

Sloane showed them how to pass between the cars as the train was moving. The first few times, Hurley had held their breath as they watched her skirt along the thin lip of metal that jutted out just above the wheels. It seemed that any misplaced jolt could knock her off and into the dirt. But she was calm and practiced about it, and Hurley would soon find that her hands had pads of callouses that let her keep her grip on one car while she edged toward its neighbor with her foot. She slipped between them in a fluid movement, graceful as a night-colored cat. Hurley got it eventually, with more than a little quite literal hand-holding, but they were always a little less adept, their arms and legs shorter than Sloane's. So it was she who went exploring from cart to cart for goods.

When they couldn't see each other as they traveled like this, Hurley would whistle in a pitch high enough to be heard over the constant noise. One note swinging up, like the sound of a question, into two short chirps. I'm here. Where are you? Sloane's reply came in the form of a slightly lower, two-tone whistle. Right here.

Because of her greater agility and experience, it was easily decided that, when it came to hits on passenger trains, Sloane would be the one to actually climb aboard, sneaking on once the steam engine had slowed enough to allow it. This was fine by Hurley. What they could do was ride.

This was where the true cacophony began. When the word of a train burglary in progress in the back cars reached the conductor and crew up front, the train would begin to strain desperately to outpace its thieves. Every furious sound in the world seemed to burst forth from it then. It banged and howled and screeched with its effort. And it never mattered. Hurley and the horse that worked so well beneath them would keep with it, get close enough to the moving metal for the shining stirrups to clatter against it, push into its wind. They felt it sting them through the openings of their mask.

(The mask is something that Sloane had to insist on, at first. "Someone could pick out those red curls from a mile away," she said one day before she abruptly dropped a piece of knife-carved, pale dead wood into their lap. It was light in their hands when they picked it up; turning it over revealed the visage of a hollow-eyed ram, with thick horns curling backward. To hide the top of their head if they were to put it on, they realized.

"Do you really think I need this? You're still the one actually doing the stealing, you know."

"You didn't see the same paper I did, huh?" she responded easily. "They're already calling you the Ram. You don't do anything by halves."

They did need to hide their face, of course. Even if they weren't going to stick with the thievery for long, just as long as they were traveling with Sloane, they would still need to ensure that they weren't seen. But Hurley didn't know how to explain that, at the time, they felt that there was a strange sense of finality to the mask, and not only for the way that it resembled a skull. They felt that they were about to lock themself into a narrative that hadn't really been of their own construction, donning a title that was not theirs.

Now they got it. Now it fit. Now they put their head down and charged.)

Hurley would ride to keep up with the speeding train, and sure as the sun, Sloane in her hat and bandana would appear at the windows of a car before long. When she did, it meant that she was ready. She would open up the window and, depending on what could be managed in that particular moment of chaos, either jumped deftly onto the horse or controlled her fall and rolled as she hit the ground. Either way, Hurley would be ready to pick her up and rush away. The gun, a large bulge at her side, would have remained undrawn for the whole affair. She had no need. The people onboard saw the Raven and did what anyone would do--and if they didn’t, the Ram, they were all slowly finding out, was there and ready to pull her out.

Ultimately, though, it wasn’t the noise or the wind that got to them most. It was the faces.

Hurley had known a number of faces. Some of them were baby-smooth and forever dustless. Some were neatly positioned between a shiny top hat and a crimped neckerchief, or between a lace hem and a hat with a great ostrich plume rising from it. All of these, they had known before. The same kinds had come before with shining white teeth to take their land away. For them, conquering the acres that had belonged to Hurley's family was as simple as presenting a paper.

It was easy to tell who on those trains with the red cushioned seats could afford to lose a little. They couldn't help but show it.

These were the people who leaned their heads out the train windows to watch them flee out of sight without fail, their witnessing while Hurley dodged bullet after bullet. They got drunk on it, sometimes. These were the ruffled chickens robbed by a fox in the false safety of their coop. To these people, as they road away, they become nothing more than a path of dust and a curse in the mouths of others. And then for the dust to dissipate but for the curse, for their name invoked, to remain bitter in the mouths that had tasted the silver spoon...how incredible. How impossible.

They adored the impossible.

And it wasn't just the faces of their victims. It was her face, too, when she turned around to see how they’d left their pursuers in the dust. How she looked, for just a moment, like she could pluck up the world for herself and stuff it in her coat pocket. That got Hurley too, that they could help to make her smile in the way that she only smiled after she had gotten well away.

[lunarrosespirits]

Meet Blossom the Rosé Demon [Mod Hua]

Name: Blossom

Species: Rosé Demon

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Pansexual

Alignment: Light Grey

Personality: Blossom is a flirt through and through. It’s something that feels to be purely ingrained in his being. Although he loves to fluster his friends and companions, he makes sure not to overstep boundaries, taking to asking those he flirts with if they are comfortable with what he does. Blossom isn’t a fuckboy, turning his nose up at the very notion. He describes himself as a lover and not a fighter, preferring to settle an issue with others through words if he can, rather than an alternative that would be deemed more physical. With his heart on his sleeve as it is, Blossom isn’t a stranger to being hurt by others, knowing it’s to come at some point or another, yet it hasn’t stopped him from expressing himself however he feels. Something Blossom has taken to doing is “grabbing the bull by the horns” when it comes to opportunities and day to day life. Well aware that life is short, and that no matter how many human lifetimes he lives through, he is just as likely to miss a golden moment as anyone else, and he refuses to let life pass him by. The way he acts at times may seem more devil may care, however he is one of the most put together and careful people around. Blossom is aware of his limits as a person, as well as the things he desires. Although he comes across as a careless and reckless flirt and vagabond, his social and personal awareness surpasses those of some social professionals (remaining unnamed for now).

Description: True to his species, Blossom, as well as others of his kind, are a majority rosé gold in coloration. His hair falls over his forehead in shimmering rosy peach waves that almost look like they could be Christmas tinsel, however are far softer in comparison. His skin tone is also more on the peachy rosy side, giving him a youthful glow that is only enhanced when he smiles. With honey golden eyes, speckled with amaranth, he has a boyish charm that is difficult to refuse at times. Of average height, Blossom stands at 5’9”, and plays up on the ‘short king’ trope despite not fitting in quite as much as he likes to think he does. With how rosy his general visage is, he tends to keep to a rather cohesive wardrobe, matching as much of his outfits as he possibly can to his being as a whole. Wearing things that range from pale pinks, to peaches and any variations or combinations thereof. Accessories are just a part of who he is, and he has more than he ever cares to count. Everything is on some sort of rosé gold chain or band, with adornments ranging in pink and clear crystals, to floral accouterments. What he chooses to wear depends on how his hair styles itself in the morning, as he likes to say, taking on floral patterns and accessories the wavier his hair is. Because of how fanciful he likes to present himself, he has taken to being called Cupid by his friends, and has grown particularly close to Heather among a few others who enjoy period clothing.

Hobbies: Oil painting, sewing his own clothes, flower arranging, hanging out with like minded friends, Renaissance Faires, occasional raves.

Likes: Period clothing, vintage rooms, classical paintings, flower petals, floral scents, soft furs (small animals/pets), crystals, dusk.

Dislikes: Grunge, filth and muck, loners (doesn’t know how to approach them), dark browns and black fabric, depression, prejudice, abuse, miscommunication.

Favorite color/s: Seashell pink

Favorite animal: Siberian Tiger

Favorite song: Soul Sucker - Ellise

Closest spirit friend: Heather the Crystal Cut Succubus, Papillons the Demon Marionnette, Blanc the Void Angel

Magic: Love related, glamour, and green [floral] magic.

Companionship: Blossom would love to have a companion he can be close with, and gossip with in the future. For the initial companionship agreement he would love to connect with someone he feels he meshes well with. Someone casual and open in conversation would be best suited for him, someone who can match the energy he gives. Despite how much of a playful fiend he may come across as, he still has a heart of gold, and someone to balance out his antics would be ideal. In the end, he doesn’t quite want to be inseparable from his companion but he does wish to be close to that, and an intermediate companion would suit him best in that regard.

Bonding activities: Cafés, fest visits, fashion events, creating patterns together, flower arranging, watching light hearted sitcoms (Gilmore Girls, Golden Girls, Friends, etc.), makeup experimentation, creating new oil scent combinations. 

Price - $50

Conjurer: Mod Hua

[velataluna]

What Vergil feel if one day he wakes up alone? And Dante outing probably didn't tell him.

Yes I hope to see extra scene of Vergil do the same as revenge

@dantethetrickster

𝖲𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗆 the cambion firstborn was rudely roused from a restless slumber. Gone was the usual luxury of a morning spent in languid awakening and tender hold, for it was replaced with a deep-seated paranoia that had his eyes instinctively sprang upon and darted around the room that has become a shared nest with his mate, searching for said mate and his usual goofy smile to gain some foothold upon the reality he had become accustomed to ever since their cohabitation began. 

Was it the absence of the usual warmth enveloping him that served as a trigger to his innate consciousness, he couldn't but ponder.

❝ Dante? ❞

He half-expected his little brother to eagerly bounce in, yet he was quickly agitated further when only silence deigned to answer him.

Further observation of their shared bedroom revealed more harrying facts: the absence of Dante's jacket which usually was slung carelessly over the chair adjacent to the mirror-less vanity table, but what set his heart to a rapid beating was the absence of Ebony and Ivory, one of Dante's titular arsenals that were customarily put upon the bedside table which the Yamato was propped against.

Not even bothered by the fact that his snowy hair was tousled and fell over his visage due to his newly awakened state, Vergil practically tricked out of the bedroom and made haste to descend the stairs forthwith, extending his senses to find his brother's presence, only to find emptiness.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦.

The realization dawned upon him as though Mundus's tentacular appendages pierced his chest once more.

𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦? 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦? 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦? 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭?

Doubt, pain, fear, tightened his chest and with each stair he stepped upon it intensified until he felt like carving out his heart if it would spare him the familiar pain of losing his other half once more, this time by the latter's own volition.

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

As though hearing his orison, suddenly the door to the establishment that he has since associated with home opened in a careless swung to reveal none other than his missing half, his face was obscured by stacks of pizza he balanced in his robust arms and ignorant of Vergil's terror-stricken form upon the threshold.

Immediately the pain squeezing his heart was alleviated by such a sight that he would deem comical in a normal state, but presently served like his beacon of hope, grunting and muttering as the so-called Legendary Devil Hunter closed the door with the back of his foot.

“Whew, that was quite a tussle!” His brother remarked a bit out of breath as though he had just battled a whole crowd just to procure his favorite junk food. “Then again all is fair in pizza and war.”

𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦… 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦… 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵-𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭!

His brother, still nescient of his inner storm, simply peeked his head out from behind the stack of his precious junk food upon registering his presence.

“Vergie! You're up, great! Can you help me relieve this sweet burden and put 'em on the desk?”

Silence greeted Dante's casual, tactless request.

“Fine, fine! You don't have to go through all the trouble saying it cus I'll do it for you,” his brother rambled on cheerfully as he strolled past his rigid form to the direction of his desk.

“How dare you attempt to drag me into labor involving your junk food just as I woke up, Dan-tey!” His brother's dramatic attempt to impersonate his tone ruined it altogether. “What am I, your maid?”

His brother looked up, and the moment their eyes met Dante's grin vanished forthwith as he promptly dropped the boxes upon the desk and in a blink of eye and sparks of crimson, appeared before him.

“Vergil? Are you crying?”

Warm, calloused hand cupping his cheek and only then Vergil realized of the wetness that was currently rolling down both of his cheeks. He blinked, an inadvertent act that had his brother's strong fingers immediately and gently wiped it. The motion was soothing and subduing the wave of turmoil within, like a lover's caress.

“What's wrong? Are you in pain?”

❝ I awoke and you weren't there, Dante. ❞

His brother was visibly stunned by those four words, clearly it didn't occur to him in the slightest that his sudden and unexplained absence might affect the elder to this extent.

“I'm sorry... I just got this text from Lady about a huge discount at Ciacco and you know how, uhhh motivated I get when it comes to pizza...”

A contrite chuckle as the warm hand moved to brush a stray strand and proceeded to cup his cheek.

Who else but this oaf of my little brother would eat pizza this early in the morning, enough to spring from the bed just to procure it?

“I'm so sorry, Vergie... I didn't want to wake you but I guess now I should have at least left a note for you...“

Dante pulled him into arms, Vergil's slender form fitted perfectly against his brother's broader form. As the warmth that he thought to have abandoned him forever was now enveloping him again, he could feel that the fright and trepidation bedeviling him earlier to be purged, prompting him to raise his own arms and clasped them around Dante's broad shoulders, trying to reassure himself that the one holding him and he was holding onto now was real and not some sort of twisted mirage conjured by his desperate mind.

They remained like that for some time, Dante kissing his snowy mane and cheeks, the while whispering ridiculous words of regret, comfort and assurance.

❝ I expect you to make amends for your rude awakening. ❞

“Yeah. Just tell me anything and I'll do it for you–” His brother trailed off, his brain caught up with his tongue too late to alert him upon the deal with the devil his emotions had just inadvertently consented to.

He couldn't but smile against his brother's stubbly cheek, relief and joy tinged with budding within.

❝ Anything, Dante? Such a dangerous choice of word indeed. ❞

Said brother pulled back to arm's length and stammered excuses, which further widened his smile and made him internally chuckle.

❝ And since you walked upon me in favor of your greasy vittles, then I shall consider them a part of your recompense. ❞

To prove his point, he disentangled from their embrace and moved toward the stacks of pizza his insufferable brother had run off to in the godforsaken morning, ignoring said brother's plea and pitiful noises.

He, Vergil, Son of Sparda and the one who shall surpass him in might, minded not his current state of being emotionally imputed to someone, that someone being his younger twin brother, his half and thus only equal. He wouldn't trade their cohabitation for anything, not after spending nearly a lifetime being deprived of it.

♛ 

⸻  𝐴 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟

A brown paper bag and its content were spilled across the wooden-tiled floor of the shop, forgotten as its bearer was currently pinned against the wall, head thrown back in ecstasy as his mate ravished his neck with the sheer carnality of a beast.

❝ Aah... Dan– Nngh~ ❞

His back arched as his half-triggered brother thrust deep within him with an inhuman ferocity that would have crushed a mere human.

“Never do that again, Vergil. Never.” Each word was emphasized with a fierce thrust as though the deeper Dante got, the more relief he would find.

Vergil let out a breathy chuckle interposed by an unsuppressed moan as Dante hit a Jackpot deep within.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘴~

His eyes fluttered closed as he recalled the event that led to this violent debauchery: He had left the slumbering Dante in bed in favor of an "impromptu" trip to the grocery store, deliberately returning late thereafter to instill just the right amount of panic to send his brother into a similar state of desolation and terror to which Dante had unwittingly subjected him just a few days ago.

Vergil barely opened the door before his little brother, true to his fiery nature, elected to unleash his distress by yanking him in and subsequently seizing his lips with such a wrathful kiss, which then brought him to his current situation: pressed flushed between Dante's sturdy form and the wall.

Their bodies slotted together in a venereal duel with his long legs wreathed about Dante's waist, heels digging into the small of Dante's back and his arm clutching the back of his brother's nape. His entire form thrummed in triumph amalgamating sensory pleasure whilst Dante gripping his backside with sheer power, drilling unforgivingly into his core.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳~

[hiraethkit]

Devil's Favorite

Amidst the city's labyrinth of shadows, where the neon lights flicker like distant stars in a murky sky, there stalks a figure feared by many, whispered about in hushed tones, and only dared to be glimpsed in the deepest hours of the night. Daemon DeLaveaux, they call him – a spectral presence, a harbinger of darkness, a wraith haunting the city's veins. A demon who hungers for blood and doesn't care who he hurts.

Tall and imposing, Daemon moves with a predatory grace, his steps silent as the whispers of the wind. His dark hair hangs like a veil, obscuring his face, while his eyes, pools of abyssal blackness, seem to devour the light itself. In his late thirties, he bears the weight of years unseen, etched in the lines of his countenance – a visage twisted by the shadows that birthed him.

Muscles ripple beneath his sleek frame, honed not by vanity but by necessity, lending him a silent strength that speaks volumes of the dangers he has faced and the horrors he has witnessed. Standing at 6'5, he towers over the denizens of the night, a specter of intimidation cloaked in the guise of a man.

Clad entirely in black, Daemon moves through the city's arteries like a ghostly apparition. His presence is a palpable dread, a foreboding omen whispered among those who dare to venture into the heart of darkness. And as the night deepens, as the city sleeps and dreams, Daemon roams – searching for his next meal. He slips silently into a dark, dirty bar that's filled with smoke and barely covers the scent of those who have long given up.

He doesn't know who the next one would be...but he knows they are in this bar.