#Hazbin husk

[hazbinshusk]

36 for husk?🫶

kiss prompts #36: a kiss to the shoulder.

Husk’s fur tickles at your sweat-sheened back, the muscles beneath it warm and firm as he holds you back against him. He groans in your ear, low and rough, and you thrill at the way his paws spread over your hips to dig claws into the soft flesh there. He rolls your hips back against his slowly, rocking his hips up into yours at an angle that makes your breath catch.

“That’s it, baby… that’s it…” he lets out a shuddering breath, halfway to a moan, his breath tickling at the side of your neck. “Shit, you feel good…”

You do moan, a half-broken sound that he muffles by catching your chin and turning you head to meet his lips with yours. He kisses you headily, tongue pushing into your mouth. He tastes of cheap booze and you don’t care, reaching up and back to clutch at the fur at the back of his head and deepen the kiss greedily. Husk purrs as your nails scratch against the base of his ear, a deep, throaty rumble that vibrates against your spine. He trails his lips over your cheek, your jaw, chuckling low in your ear as you whimper needily.

The sharp points of his teeth graze the shell of your ear, sandpaper tongue teasing the lobe before moving to the side of your neck. You swear you can feel his cock pulsing inside you with each thrust, but from the way he groans into the curve of the base of your throat maybe that’s the way you’re cunt squeezes around him with every brush of his rigid barbs inside you. They tease at the sensitive flesh of your entrance each time you rise, and stars burst behind your eyes every time he bottoms out inside you.

His nose is cold, leaving cool damp tracks against your heated skin, and you grasp at the arm he has wrapped around your middle. His claws are spread possessively over your stomach, squeezing sharp claws into the tender flesh. The idea of marks thrills you, and you let your head fall back against his shoulder with a moan.

“Right there,” you almost sigh, excitement coiled tight in your belly. “Fuck, right there… Husk, fuck…”

“Such a pretty thing,” he replies, voice rough and low and so delicious. He pulls out of you just to slide his cock up against your clit, and he chuckles as you squirm against him. He sucks a mark into the spot below your ear just as he presses himself back into your pussy and smiles when you curse. “Oh, you make the sweetest little sounds for me, doll…”

“Fuck me, Husk…” you beg, turning your head to kiss blindly at his cheek, his jaw. Your next words catch in a moan. “Fuhh—”

“Ask nicely, baby,” he mutters, breath hot against your neck. His voice is strained, heavy with desire and need. “C’mon… be a good girl and ask daddy for what you need.”

“Please…” you gasp out as he guides your hand teasingly down over your stomach to between your thighs. His breath catches harshly as your fingertips brush against the exposed barbs of his cock, and he repays the favour by guiding them over your clit. It’s just for a moment, and then he pulls them  away.

You whimper, and you feel him smile against your shoulder. His teeth graze the skin there as he teases, “‘Please’ what?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice again, and Husk punishes the pause by guiding your fingers over your clit again. He laughs in your ear, kisses your cheek when you try and chase the feeling by bucking your hips against him.

“Use your words.”

You bite back the urge to be bratty, too far gone on the way he feels filling your quivering, soaking cunt. Instead, you choke on a moan as you swivel your hips over his and say, “Please, daddy…”

“That’s my good little girl…”

Husk rewards you with bringing your hand back to your clit, claws digging into the back of your hand as he guides your fingers into a quick, tormenting rhythm. Satisfied you wouldn’t stop, he lets his paw trail upwards, lingering over your stomach before finding your breast. Claws prick your skin deliciously, your nipple hard and aching under the pad of his palm. You shudder as his nose brushes your jaw again, his paw continuing up to wrap around your throat.

“God…”

“That’s it, baby.” Husk murmurs, the praise a contrast to the tightness of his claws around your throat that makes your head spin. Or maybe that’s the lack of air; but either way it makes your pussy clench. Husk groans, head falling back and wings shuddering. “Fuck, you feel so good. Daddy’s pretty little slut, always so good for me…”

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes squeezed shut as you near your release. He feels so good against you, inside you; your whole body seems to tingle with the touch of his fur, the firm grip of his paws. You quicken your fingers desperately against your clit, grinding yourself down over his cock. You choke out the words, breath catching under his grip. “Husk…. Daddy… fuck…”

“You wanna cum, don’t you, baby?” he continues, his voice breaking. He’s so close he’s burning with it, his chest heaving against your back, his mouth pressed hungrily to your shoulder. He releases your throat, your eyes pricking with tears as you gulp in a breath. “You wanna cum for daddy?”

“Yes,” you plead, voice escaping you in a whine. “Yes, yes, yes… please, daddy… please, I wanna cum for you…”

He kisses you again, hard and rough and wanting, claiming you greedily. “Daddy’ll let you cum, baby, don’t worry,” he promises. “But only if you let daddy taste you after.”

You nod desperately, mouth hanging open against his in a silent cry.

“Say it, baby. Promise daddy.”

“I—promise!” you gasp out. “I’ll do anything, just let me cum…”

Husk snickers darkly. “Good girl.”

And then he buries his teeth in your shoulder and your vision blurs as you orgasm breaks through you, your entire body tightening up, pressing you back against him. You’re shaking with the force of it and Husk curses in your ear, against your bleeding flesh as you squeeze like a vice around him, spilling himself deep into your quivering cunt.

Your orgasm shocks you in waves, and each brush of his tail against your calf or his paw against your breast, your waist. Husk chuckles deliriously as the two of you come down, brushing his lips against the mark he’s left on your shoulder in a chaste, apologetic kiss.

“Fuck, you take it so well, doll.” he murmurs appreciatively, sandpaper tongue lapping at the blood on your shoulder. You turn your head to kiss him, tasting the metallic tang of it on his tongue. He smiles, bumps his nose against yours. “You need a break?”

You nod, wiping hair away from your face with a shaking hand. Despite the way your breathing remains unsteady, and the way you gasp and shudder when he lifts you carefully off his cock, a thrill goes through you when his smile turns wicked.

“But you made a promise, sweetheart,” he tells you, lifting you and setting you on the bed beside him. He slips off the mattress, moving to a kneel in front of you. He takes hold of your knees and parts your thighs, baring your dripping, aching cunt to himself. He keeps his eyes on you, a hungry glint in his eyes and smirk still on his lips. “And daddy’s come to collect.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[hazbin-2005]

A mini add down in the pride ring!

[sparrowrye]

The Archivist's Oath || Chapter 17: rebuilding oneself

Summary: Alastor finds an archivist who can translate Old World texts. Equally bound to their duty, reader and Alastor traverse the tricky landscape of love and commitment…but to whom and to what?

Chapter Synopsis: We learn a little more about Rosie's District, Storm Season, and ourselves.

Master List

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I was surprised to learn that Rosie didn't have magic. She had Husker attach the scent to the crystal, then she placed it over my head as if bestowing some great honor. To me, it certainly was an honor. The scent of vanilla immediately filled my nose and relaxed the muscles in my neck that I hadn't realized were so tight. Husker, Rosie, and Angel watched on with smiles on their faces.

I was shown through more curves of the ravine, once again passing kind groups of people who shared a smile or head nod in my direction. I noticed Husker's strong scent of amber--like inhaling a scent of recently chopped firewood--and Angel who smelled like sweet sugarcane. I still preferred Rosie's gentle aroma of soft roses.

I was shown through more curves of the ravine until we came to a communal dinning space. It was buried in the rock, as was everything else, but the floor and walls were lined with polished wood. Stretching down the center of the long hall was a shallow pit of embers, racks and racks of cooked food sat over the embers which people picked from. There were more tables at the end filled with bowls of brightly colored fruit and vegetables. 

It wasn't until Rosie led us inside that I noticed little pockets in the rock wall that had lanterns and incense burners.

"This is the busiest it's ever been," she said in my ear over the loud chatter. "With more food from those vertical gardens, we have more food to put on the table." People noticed my presence, but it was nothing more than a glance before turning back to their conversation. It was...comforting. However, it quickly become uncomfortable as we pushed through the press of bodies.

I pulled at the collar of my shirt as it became harder to breathe. More than once someone had nearly stepped on my foot, sending spurts of pain up my shins from suddenly jerking my feet out of the way. I soon found myself breathing heavily, as if I had been running.

Without warning, tears swelled in my eyes. 

I hurriedly wiped my cheeks as I tried to follow Rosie's bright red dress, but I soon lost her as the crowd grew even thicker. I came to a full stop before two large men who were completely unaware of the smaller person in front of them. 

I backed away and accidentally stepped on Husker's foot, making both of us hiss in pain.  I apologized and spun around twice, and likely would've done it several more times, had Husker not put his hands on my shoulders. He turned me sideways and guided me towards the wall. When I turned around, both Husker and Angel were looking at me worryingly. 

"You okay, kid?" Husker asked. He and Angel positioned themselves in a way that served as a wall between me and the crowd. 

I rubbed my hands together and stared down at my wrapped feet. "I don't...I don't know what's wrong...with-with me." My back was starting to itch where my wings should be and I could feel sweat soaking into the fabric there.

"Maybe yer not a crowds person, Bookie," Angel yelled over the noise. "Rosie and I will grab food. You take 'er out." He looked at Husker then pushed through sea of people before anyone could argue. Husker let out a sigh then took the lead through the crowd, a secure hand on my wrist as he created a temporary divide for us.

I sucked in a huge breath of air as soon as we stepped outside. We stood to the side of the communal entrance and wiped my sweaty palms on my pantleg. "I-I'm sorry," I muttered.

He leaned back on the stone wall and propped his foot up behind him. "Don't worry 'bout it, kid. Angel's right. You've been cooped up all your life so crowds probably isn't good for you."

"But I walked just fine this morning," I said, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

"It wasn't as packed this morning. That—" he jutted his chin at the dinning space, "—is packed."

"Still. I'm sorry."

He looked at me out the corner of his eye for a moment, then scrunched his nose. "Stop apologizing for being human. We've all got our problems. Even Al."

I paused. "Like what?"

He gave a wry chuckle. "Not my place to tell if I want to keep my tail. But..." His yellow eyes met mine. "I'm sure he'd tell you if you ask him."

I crossed my arms and stepped into the sunlight to get warm, which was strange considering how much I was still sweating. "He wouldn't," I mumbled. "He wouldn't want anyone to know about a weakness in the Radio Demon."

"Yeah well..." Husker thought for a moment. "I think it's high time you start manipulating him."

"It doesn't matter anymore." I picked up my scent crystal of vanilla and twirled it between my fingers. 

Silence hung in the air until Rosie and Angel emerged from the space with small plates of food. I apologized to them for the inconvenience but they brushed it off. We stood in a circle chatting and eating, though I was mostly eating and not paying attention to the conversation. I forgot what it was like to enjoy new food again. Everything melted in my mouth perfectly and the berries brought a lovely tang to it all. 

Angel continued to 'bother' Husker as we made our way back to Rosie's cave. I asked her if we could keep walking and she agreed, letting Husker trail further behind with Angel in tow. I wanted to explore more of the residential area of her district, having already fallen in love with the overhangs and platforms overhead. Ropes hung between houses with clothes pinned on them to dry and I could hear children laughing somewhere in the distance. 

Rosie looked as if she wanted to say something, then thought better of it. "What is it?" I asked.

"Oh it's nothing dear," she said. "I didn't want to stir up any complicated feelings."

"I'm doing okay, now. Is something wrong?"

She was quiet for a long while. I busied myself with looking around the landscape again and straining to hear tail ends of conversations. 

Finally, she spoke her mind. "I've been wondering what your oath says. You've been so determined to follow it. I was...well, I was a little curious to know what exactly it says."

I was surprised. I would've expected Alastor to tell her or share the scroll from the previous Archivist. Then again, Alastor always had a secret agenda. So, hesitantly, I recited the whole thing for her, the words flowing with ease after twenty-two years of reciting it every morning. I started with my full name:

"...do solemnly swear to uphold the duty of the Archivist, guardian of Humanity's collective knowledge.

I vow to protect my Archive, preserving the truths of the past from corruption, destruction, and misuse. I shall remain steadfast in my duty, ensuring that this knowledge is kept safe, even at the cost of my own life or those I care for.

I pledge to seek truth above all, to distinguish fact from falsehood, and commit to maintaining the sanctuary of my Archive, allowing access only to those who prove themselves worthy and who understand the weight of the knowledge they seek.

I vow to resist any force that seeks to exploit my Archive for power, manipulation, or destruction. Should I be unable to protect my Archive, I shall ensure their contents are hidden, encrypted, or destroyed, rather than fall into unworthy hands.

Finally, I promise to pass on this duty to a successor who shares these principles, ensuring the unbroken lineage of the Archivists for as long as there is knowledge to maintain.

In taking this oath, I bind myself to the service of knowledge, history, and--above all--truth until my dying breath."

I blinked back to the world and glanced up at Rosie. Her expression was complicated so I fixed my clothing and looked at anything other than her. It was then I noticed small wires running along the indents in the walls. They led to a group of windmills at the very edge of the ravine arm where the buildings finally came to an end. A group of workers sat on the ledge taking them apart and carefully securing the pieces to wagons.

"Do you use electricity?" I asked, making an obvious look to the wires leading away from the construction.

"No, but we get a lot of wind down here," she explained. "We had Vox install windmills to send electricity to the heart of the city."

I looked up at the workers again. "So...why are they taking them down?"

"Storm season is closing in sooner than we thought. The strong wind currents will destroy them."

"Will the city be without power then?"

"Oh yes," she said casually. "We usually cut power from all the windmills throughout the city. The wind and rain will tear them apart and we'll have to rebuild them rather than simply reinstall them."

I carefully shifted my weight. "So...have you tried putting trees along the top or on the walls here? They're good against wind."

She shook her head. "They get ripped out of the ground. That one—" she looked over her shoulder at a medium sized tree sticking up from the ground, "—likely won't be here after the season. Not to mention all the runoff rain that floods this area and kills the crops and plants.

I continued to think, reaching into the archive of my mind to retrieve old information. The book I was translating for her never said anything about fighting off big storms. It was simple gardening techniques to sustain a large community, but...

"I...I think I might have a book," I said slowly.

She slowly looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"I...storm drains. No...storm barriers," I corrected. "I think there's a book about fighting off hurricanes or other big storms."

"Hurricanes?" she parroted, unfamiliar with the term.

"Just a big storm. But...I might have a book about it. I remember reading about Old World technology that was being designed to prevent coastal flooding in cities and keep buildings from toppling in the wind. I remember seeing designs but I never translated it."

She tapped her chin. "Would that work for a place like this? In the ground?" 

I shrugged. "I don't see why not. We're protecting a hole in the ground, not a tower that stretches miles in the sky. I'd have to finish translating it, though, to see if we could even build it. I'd..." My voice quieted. "I'd have to know what things Vox makes and how fast he can make them. But...it might be a start."

"Sounds like a shot in the dark, but one nonetheless." She stepped in front of me and placed gentle hands on my shoulders. She was a little taller than me so she bent down to be at my eye level. "You don't have to translate it, dear. If you want to, well, I'm not going to stop you. But if you translate it and it works...it could change everything for our people."

Our people. It was a phrase I never felt connected to yet...the way she said it made it feel like I was a part of something greater, like I was part of her little community down here. 

The whole point of being an Archivist was to protect Humanity. Translating that book would preserve Humanity by getting them through Storm Season. These people were just trying to survive, even if their rulers had a twisted way of doing it.

I took a deep breath as the familiar weight of the world settled back on my shoulders. Only this time, it didn't feel as heavy. I lifted my chin some more, squared my shoulders, and said, "I'll translate it. Getting everyone through Storm Season takes priority."

Rosie's soft smile returned. "You've already done so much for us. Whatever you need, we'll make it happen. I trust you."

That single phrase made it all worth it. I stepped forward and hugged her tightly. It caught her by surprise but she was quiet to return the embrace, running her hand down the back of my head in the way my mother used to do.

"I'll do my best. I just hope it works," I whispered.

She gave me another squeeze then released me. "It's the best shot we've had in a long time. Come on, let's keep walking and you can tell me what other grand ideas you have."

As we walked back through the district, the dangers of Storm Season lingered over my head, but so did a feeling of hope and new determination. I was taking control of my life and my translations. This was what an Archivists true job was meant to be and I was going to do it to my very best.

Unfortunately, I eventually had to leave Rosie's little safe haven and return to Alastor's district. I said goodbye to Rosie and Angel walked with us until he went his separate way to the Entertainment District. He made sure to say his goodbye dramatically, forcing Husker to catch him from falling. Which, after making a sexual joke, earned him a quick drop to the hard floor.

The evening sun beat on the back our necks as Husker and I made our way to the Magic District. I was starting to get a better understanding of the layout of the different districts every time I walked through the center of the city. I knew Magic and Technology were across from each other and Agriculture and Entertainment were the same. Though I had yet to know where the Military District was in all this.

Husker and I were mostly quiet, but it wasn't an awkward quiet. His scowl was less and his shoulders weren't so haunched. It occurred to me that our dynamic had drastically changed since we first walked this way earlier. So, feeling a sense of closeness with the cat hybrid, I dared to broach a topic I had been thinking about in the back of my mind.

"Husker? Can I ask a question?" 

"If it's a touchy-feely one then no," he answered.

I debated if my question fell under that category. "How did you...become Alastor's second in command?"

His steps faulted for a moment. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking again. I tried to tell him he didn't need to answer but, to my great surprise, he didn't shrug out of the topic. "Why the sudden interest?" he asekd.

"I just...I don't know. I guess...I guess I just wanted to know how someone like you—so strong and independent, and not afraid of what people think—ended up following someone like Al--astor." I choked out the rest of his full name, not wanting to use the familiar nickname. It wasn't lost on Husker, but he chose not to press it. 

He let out a sigh and stepped a hair closer to me as we entered the Magic District. "Well, it wasn't by choice, that's for sure," he began. "I was one of the first communities the city captured. A small town, nothing fancy. Then Alastor waltz in with his talk about unity and a better future and all that crap. No one believed him at first but...he didn't really give you the option not to."

"So...how did become...his?"

Husker's features darkened and he kept his gaze set in front of him. "He picked me. I didn't volunteer and I even fought him on it. But...something about the way he talked. Not just his fancy words and charm, but the way he knew people. He took one look at me and it was like he already knew every screw-up I ever made and every weakness I ever had." His tail flicked firmly against the stone behind him. "Alastor has always had a way of breaking people in, forcing you to see his way and only his way. You can resist but, in the end...you just give in. Everyone does."

I felt something cold reach up my spine. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Lately, I've actually been grateful for it." He ruffled his wings as a gust of wind blew down the ravine. "I'm stronger now. I'm a leader taking care of my own men and I learned how to do it. I've got a purpose and I've never been more free."

I furrowed my eyebrows, reading into the little subtleties I had picked up on earlier. "Are you still bitter?"

"Oh, absolutely." His smile was humorless. "Alastor ain't some hero and I sure as hell ain't pretending he's perfect. But bitter or not, I can't deny what he's done for me. I'm a better leader because of him. And in his own twisted way, he's given me more than I ever could have done on my own."

I nodded slowly, processing the weight of his words. I had already seen and heard of all the ways Alastor bent people's wills. I had experienced his manipulation first hand but hearing Husker's story...the mix of resentment and gratitude...painted the situation in a different light. It made me wonder if I had been bent in some way, too.

"I guess I didn't really expect that from you," I said. "You don't seem like the type of person who can break."

His gaze softened as he met my eyes. "We're all breakable, kid. Some of us just rebuild ourselves better after it. So that begs the question...will you?" 

As I stepped in time beside him, I already knew the answer. I was rebuilding myself and it started today in Rosie's district.

I felt the comfort of Husker's presence now. We were different, and we had hurt each other, but we both came from the same place and had come out on the other end. I wasn't the same scared little girl hiding away in her bunker and grieving alone. She was still in me, but I was becoming someone different. I was becoming someone I wanted to become. 

And Alastor was going to have to deal with it.

"Thanks, Husker," I said.

"No problem, kid."

The walk through the Magic District was walked in comfortable, content silence. I was starting to realize that I was finding pieces of my family in those around me. I found my mother and grandmother in Rosie and found my brother in Husker. The entire day's events made the return to Alastor's tower less daunting, even if it still made apprehension fill my lungs.

Husker made sure I made it through Alastor's wards on the door before disappearing to who knows where. Niffty greeted me with a quick hug, an estimate time for dinner, and Alastor's whereabouts somewhere in the district. I thanked her then went upstairs to my--the attic and started sorting through my books in search of what I was looking for. I found it difficult to move on my knees since it hurt to use the palms of my feet.

I sat carefully and lifted each book with extreme care to look at their titles on the binding or on the first page. I spent almost an hour sorting through this collection and came up with nothing. I went to the room on the second floor and started the long, draining process again. 

I was about two stacks in when I heard Alastor return. My skin prickled with anticipation as his footsteps climbed the stairs, echoing off the walls.

"Looking for something?" he asked curiously.

I wiped my nervous palms on my pant leg and picked up another book. "A book. Something to help Rosie."

Alastor stepped onto the narrow pathway carved by the stacks. "What about?" His brows furrowed with curiosity as he stepped towards me, silently so as not to disturb or scare me, and sniffed softly. "Why do you smell like vanilla?" The question left his mouth before he could shut it. He physically recoiled, jaw clenched and mind reeling to find a way to change the subject.

My hands froze, clutching to a book. "It's...Rosie let me pick my scent so I did. I didn't think it would be a problem."

"I'm not complaining," he said a little too forcefully. I kept my gaze averted and looked through the books again. "It's better than dust and ink."

I huffed and picked another book. "Well, that's what happens when you spend your life surrounded by dust and ink." I was surprised at how easily I was able to answer him. 

"So, what book are you looking for?" he prompted.

"A book about storm barriers."

His ears perked with interest. "Storm barriers?"

"Yes. I remember it being something like...something like...an unbreakable wall or...maybe shielding cities? Something like that. I know I have it here somewhere." I carefully placed the book down then moved to a different stack, taking the lantern with me. "And I remember it being on this half of the room. I thought it was upstairs but then I remembered the light coming in from a window on my right." I rambled as I started the new stack.

"What does the book look like?" he asked.

"I don't remember. They all look the same anyways."

I hissed loudly when I stubbed my toe on one of the crates. I used the stack for balance as I held my injured foot off the ground and tried to breathe through the pain, tears poking through the corners of my eyes. I lowered it back to the ground once the throbbing subsided.

I flinched when Alastor's red hand suddenly came into view and took one of the books. I looked up and found myself unable to tear my gaze from his, intense as it was but with no malice behind it.

He blinked. Then again. Until he regained control of his body and stepped away to put some distance between us. He cleared his throat as he summoned a pencil and paper and let it rest on one of the nearby stacks. "If you write the title in Old World language, I can help look for it," he said. He pretended to look at the book in his hand, suddenly very interested in its blank cover.

I stared at him.

He looked like the Radio Demon but sounded like Al. 

I wrote down possible titles in Old World language and handed him the paper. He took it, careful not to touch my fingers, and started somewhere else in the room.

We worked in companionable silence for several minutes. His long, red tipped fingers touched the books with care, and I found myself occupied with watching him work. 

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Author's Note:

A sweet, calm chapter with lots of information for the upcoming plot points.

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Reflection Readers:

@fynariel

Interested in being one? Read about it HERE

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Taglist:

@torustesseract @sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette @eris-norwega

[a-headless-angel]

What fragrances would the Hazbin Hotel cast wear?

Ever wondered what your favorite Hazbin Hotel character would smell like?

No? Well, too bad, because now you’re about to.

As a former fragrance enthusiast, someone who spent way too much time sniffing tiny paper strips at department stores, I’ve decided to use my expertise to answer the real questions: what perfumes and colognes would the Hazbin Hotel cast wear?

Some of these choices make sense and some are unhinged. Let’s begin this psychological warfare analysis.

First up:

Charlie – KILIAN I Don’t Need a Prince to Be a Princess

I Don’t Need a Prince to Be a Princess is basically marshmallows in a bottle: sweet, fluffy, and comforting, much like Charlie herself. The notes? Vanilla, benzoin, and a touch of green tea, making it smell like a hug wrapped in a bedtime story. It’s innocent yet oddly addictive.

Vaggie – CHANEL Chance Eau Tendre

CHANEL Chance Eau Tendre is the perfect fit for Vaggie. It’s fresh, clean, and perfect for someone with a sporty, no-nonsense personality. It smells like someone who will absolutely win an argument (and a physical fight). With crisp grapefruit, delicate jasmine, and a soft, musky base, this perfume has that effortless "I just stepped out of the shower" scent.

Alastor- Raid

Self-explanatory. I mean he could wear a high-class vintage cologne, but why bother when raid is more effective at clearing a room? He’ll occasionally use the lemon scented one though.

Husk – Nautica Pure Blue Toilette (Present Day) / Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille (Overlord Days)

There was a time when Husk smelled like expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and power. But now, he sprays himself with whatever cologne was cheapest at the gas station. Nautica Pure Blue is the olfactory equivalent of “I don’t give a f*ck” and “I lost a bet.”

Angel - Victoria’s Secret Bombshell

Now you may be asking yourself, why Victoria’s Secret Bombshell? because he IS the bombshell. It’s sexy, flirty, and lingers in a way that makes everyone wonder, Why does it smell like sin and bubblegum in here? Subtle? Absolutely not. But then again, neither is he.

Sir Pentious - Axe body spray

Once saw an ad that Axe attracts all the ladies. Spoiler: it did not.

Nifty- Moschino Fresh Couture

Niffty picked this perfume for one reason and one reason only: the bottle looks like a cleaning spray. That’s it. That’s the entire reason.

Moschino Fresh Couture comes in a Windex-style bottle, which speaks to Niffty on a spiritual level. She has no idea what notes are in it. She just loves the bottle. And honestly? That’s reason enough.

Mimzy - Chanel No. 5

Chanel No. 5, the scent of a bygone era (a.k.a the grandma perfume). Classic, timeless, and so potent that if you stand too close, you will get a headache. Mimzy doesn’t apply perfume, she marinates in it. It’s all part of her charm (and why you can smell her coming from two blocks away).

Bonus: The Vees

Valentino – Dior Sauvage

Ah yes, the classic f-boy fragrance. The red flag in a bottle. The scent of toxicity, well-practiced apologies, and knowing exactly what to say to get what he wants. Dior Sauvage is the cologne equivalent of a smooth-talking incubus in designer shoes, and Valentino wears it like armor.

Why? Because it works. Because no matter how many times people warn about the guy who wears this, it still reels them in. It’s fresh, spicy, and undeniably attractive. The bergamot and pepper hit first, clean and crisp, tricking people into thinking he’s a gentleman.

But as long as he smells good all is well…right?

Velvette - Versace Crystal Noir (daily) / Baccarat Rouge 540 (special occasions)

Velvette is the queen of fragrances. Her collection is massive, categorized by mood and outfit. She could wear anything, but her daily signature? Versace Crystal Noir. It is dark feminine in a bottle. But for special occasions, she swaps to Baccarat Rouge 540. It’s rich, luxurious, and smells like money and power.

Unfortunately, Baccarat Rouge 540 has influenced Hell so much that now every nightclub, high-end lounge, and wannabe influencer reeks of it. What was once an elite, intoxicating fragrance has become so overused that Velvette can barely step into a club without gagging. If she smells it on a random low-level demon trying to act important? Immediate side-eye.

She started the trend. Now she regrets it.

Vox - Versace Eros

2nd red flag fragrance.

And there you have it folks, the Hazbin Hotel cast in fragrance form.

[heheartistuwu]

More undertale hazbin hotel sprites

[barkeroodle]

Happy birthday to everyone’s favourite spider!

(for clarification, he thanked Charlie afterwards for whatever she gave him)

[pani-artz]

Cursed cat Alastor x Lilo and Stitch

[captainsaltypear]

IS ANYONE ELSE GONNA TALK ABOUT THIS OR

[wrentherainfall]

I mean… do I even gotta explain why?

EDIT: This is NOT a ship post please do not take it as such (I can’t believe I have to make this note but oh well)

[wattemeer]

imagine this: they are both sober

[alloplush]

Merry Sinsmas!! 💖 (i'm so late lol)

[bucketofchum]

Angel: (ಥ﹏ಥ)

[onesidedradiostatic]

I love how these 5 kind of form a chain with their connections and I desperately need to see all of those connections come together at some point

[radiaurapple]

OBJECTION‼️‼️‼️ nuh-uh but make it alastor and husk

[virtualsoup]

She can't move cause what if she wakes up the fluffy bartender and his spider twink

Epilogue