#about like the fallen things in the world the badness the devil

[magpie-trove]

Something so so deeply radically wonderfully creatively redemptive in thank you Aimee though

[kentopedia]

♰ sent to destroy — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 5 - fallen angel!dazai

he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, takes place in 1920s for fun ig, actress!reader, alcohol, one mention of suicidal ideation and prostitution by reader, blasphemy, sacrilege, pls don't read this if ur religious & will get offended LMAO, angel fucking (& he has wings), bondage (thru powers), unprotected sex, cunnilingus, corruption kink, possessive sex, softish dazai, mm idk what else — 6.1k

note: i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i normally do so plss ignore any mistakes and i'll love you forever

the speakeasy fills with a thin veil of smoke, coating the room with an intoxicating mix of alcohol and nicotine. it’s a lewd place, full of degenerates and failed actresses like yourself, a crowd of people who don’t belong, but try their best to find a way to keep living. 

it’s a place where women pick up their clients, leading them to the hotel around the corner for a night they certainly won’t be paid enough for. it’s where people drown their miseries in alcohol and hope they won’t wake up in the morning. 

it is, regrettably, the only place you can afford. 

you sit alone at one of the tables, hands shaky from nerves as you smoke another cigarette, contributing just as much to the cloud that suffocates the small room. 

hoards of people make their way downtown for a sip of alcohol, the drink that has so ridiculously been banned, but you are no exception, no angel amongst the sinful devils. 

someone plays a saxophone at the front of the bar, spinning into a graceful melody of jazz that sings out to you, lulls you into an embrace that warms your core. it soothes the anxiety that has lingered with you throughout the day, the reminder that your life is tailspinning. 

you’d failed at landing yet another role, and the acting career you’d packed your bags and moved out for was plummeting. who would accept you now, now that your hopes and dreams had been for naught, now that you’d created a shameful woman of yourself and your family?

the answer was clear; but you were too stubborn too accept it, too desperate to believe that you could be up in the glimmering lights, the brightest silver star the world had ever seen. 

you lean back in your chair, stamping out the cigarette with a sigh as you stand to collect another drink. there’s not much left in your pockets, but you’ve made it work before, and you’ll keep making it work now, scrounging up coins for the relief that came with forgetting. 

the only consolation is the line of women that stand alongside you at the bar, as dejected and miserable as yourself. all of you have been labeled the failures of your families, the ones that bet on a shot in the dark. none of you expected that the road would be easy, certainly not with the way the industry is hasty to pick up only the most beautiful faces… but your ambitions had led you to believe that you, of all people, had had a chance. 

you know your beauty is endless, a sight to be admired, but even that had not been enough to secure your spot in the limelight. 

you thank the bartender as he hands you a drink, and slump back to your table, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to kick in. yet, when you stand at the edge of the table, peer at the chair you’d once been seated in, there is already a man there. 

he gazes at you with a crooked smile, eyes amused as he regards your beaten-down state.

you’ve seen him before—made every attempt not to see him again. you know what they say about him. he’s a wizard, he’s the devil, he’s a god that steals the body of a mortal, waiting to destroy the earth. all bad things, certainly, and with the way your life’s been going, you’d be a fool to get mixed up with someone like him.

still…you know of the things he’s done for people. that miracles have happened for those brave enough to ask for them. 

perhaps, you’re in need of a miracle. 

the dark-haired man leans forward, eyebrows raised as you gawk at him from the other side of the table. “no need to look so frightened,” he says, gesturing towards the other chair. “sit.” 

“i don’t want any company,” you say, straightening, pulling your drink closer to your chest. “i came here to be alone.”

his eyes flash, predatory, as if seeing down through the depths of your soul, to the very desire that lingers within. all of your dreams, your ambitions, and your loneliness are displayed to him, a flashing banner that alerts him easily of everything that’s ever been wrong with you. 

“is that so?” he asks, leaning forward, his voice deepening amongst the chaos of the speakeasy. “then, why have you been staring at me all evening?” 

you can’t help the flush that rushes to your cheek, the heat that covers your entire body. with the crowd of men and women alike that are constantly at his arm, you’d hardly thought he’d notice you.

and though you know what they say about him, he is undeniably beautiful; you’re drawn to him. there is a dark and heavenly beauty about him, something that you fear is too angelic to be of this world. his eyes glimmer almost like diamonds in the candlelit room, skin so flawless that it is nearly luminescent. 

it’s no wonder, really, that you haven’t been able to peel your eyes off of him.

you circle around his question, instead, and set your drink down on the table, lured in either by a false sense of safety, or the confidence of his grin. “i know what you are,” you say, swallowing back the fear that devils often prey on. 

he smiles, indulging you, a lifelong game he has surely played. “and what is that, my dear?” 

the mocking tone sends a cold wave down your spine, even though the sweet name seems to warm you. “i don’t believe i should say it out loud.” you’re not sure what kind of consequence that will bring you. perhaps you do not need to make a deal with him for your soul to be damned, straight to the fiery pits; maybe this conversation is enough, and already, you are on the long list of sinners that will be sent to burn.

“because you believe i am the devil? a demon sent to prey upon you and your soul, drag you down to hell once the contract you’ve made is over?” 

you say nothing, but your silence speaks loudly. 

he sighs, leans back in the chair and looks at you from under thick lashes. “i have no interest in the dealings of those fifty, lesser beings. i find that i can bargain for more enjoyable ventures.” two dark eyes trace over you, swallow you whole as he grazes your curves with his irises, the shape of your breasts under the tightness of your dress, the style shorter to match the current fashions. “so, i think we both may have something the other is interested in. please,” he gestures once more to the seat in front of him, addressing you by your first name—one you never even had to tell him. “sit.” 

nervous, you take the chair, wondering why you aren’t running away, screaming at everyone that there is a monster in your midst, a being that hunts the weak to lure them away from their misery. no wonder he has made himself a frequent customer at this place—there are people drowning in sorrows. one deal with him, and they will wake up in the morning, drowning in riches instead. 

“what do you want from me?” you ask, letting your hands fall to your sides. 

“so eager to get to the best part of my bargain, silly girl. have some patience.” he takes a sip of his own drink, pinning you with his gaze, even above the rim. you squirm under the intensity, but you, even now, can’t look away. “i know you’re struggling to find work. you’ve been here for years, and made pennies to live off of.” he reaches across the table, spins a lock of hair around his finger as he sighs dramatically. “such a shame, really. they must fear the power of your perfection if they refuse to let you shine brighter than the rest of the dull creatures that they call starlets.” 

your heart drops, stutters within the delicate bones of your skeleton before starting again, as you remember that this is how the devil would act, luring you in with sweetly poisoned words full of deceit. “they are talented—”

“they are nothing,” he snarls, banging his fist on the table so loudly that you jump, hands shaking against the beaded skirt of your dress. “you may claim to believe in your own talents, your appearance, but it is all a lie, a facade that you maintain to protect yourself. you are the one holding yourself back, and unless you let me help you, you’ll get nowhere.”

you feel tears burn. “you mean to lure me away from the path of god—”

his eyes narrow. “i mean to free the human race from the chains that religion has bound on them. there is nothing for you in the afterlife but an existence of slavery. one to a malicious devil who only wishes to torment, or one to a god who doesn’t love you.” 

it confuses you, the way he speaks of these beings as if he is not on the side of heaven or hell. as if there could be another option. it seems surreal, a secret that you should not have been told; since the day you were born, you have learned of the path of righteousness, the will of god. 

that is the only way you can obtain a life of peace… yet, there is a creature before you, claiming to offer you a third path, one that doesn’t have you bowing down for a god that won’t answer your prayers. 

it may be foolish, the work of the devil, but you are willing to listen. you are already lured in by this graceful creature with a charming smile and a quick tongue, and you don’t know if it will take much more for you to succumb to him completely. 

already, you have lost your way—you would do anything to escape your unhappiness.

“what is it you’re after, then?” you ask, your voice softer, weaker than you anticipated. 

he laughs, and lets his head tilt sideways, studies you before answering. “my father has cast me out of heaven; i plan to build my own religion of followers, tearing them away from that idiot of a being they call their god. because i am much stronger, much wiser, and the only way that they can find peace after their death is by trusting that i will give it to them.” 

you swallow, twining your fingers together, and think. “you’re… an angel?” 

he waves his hand. “a fallen one.”

there are things about the world that you do not understand, but you know that god has not once help you when you were drowning without a savior. he did not guide a helping a hand when you contemplated dragging a knife across your wrists, and yet, here is something, someone wanting to save you from just that. how is it that god can be more benevolent than those he casts out, when you have seen nothing but the opposite?

“you want me to join you, then?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “if i join you, you’ll give me what i desire?”

“well… that is usually the bargain i offer. however,” he hums, eyes flashing as they scour your body. he looks at you hungrily, like he has never seen a being like yourself. “it has been a while since i’ve seen a human as beautiful as you.” 

you swallow, blinking at him with wide eyes as you grow hot all over. this would not be the first time you’ve sold your body for fame, but never has it been with a man as stunning as the angel before you. “you mean… if i fuck you, you’ll give me whatever i want?” 

he sniffs, repulsed by your suggestion. “always so lewd, you mortals.”

your eyebrows knit together. “but you said—”

“i don’t want you for one night. i want you forever. i want you to swear your body over to me for the rest of your life, let me use it as i wish, bear my children.” he traces your features, grazes a thumb over your jaw, your lip. his eyes are hard, and you swallow, wondering why your stomach flips. “you are meant to be mine.” he smiles, and though you can see the mischief within it, for some reason, there is also softness there as he crosses his arms over the counter. “but if you aren’t interested, then the deal is off the table. i have no need for someone who doesn’t want me in return.” 

you blink back at him, observing the seriousness of his expression, the softness lurking within the pools of his deep brown eyes. perhaps he is a vengeful angel… but he is offering you a life that is much more promising than the one you have now. would it really be so bad to give yourself to him, to spend the rest of your life in his arms, when he promises to give you everything you’ve ever wished for?

“i—” you hesitate, unsure how to even begin to answer the question, when you didn’t quite understand what it was that he needed from you.  

“i’ll give you some time to think about it. after all, it is a decision that will affect the rest of your life.” he stands to his feet, and it is then that you notice there are some eyes on you, the women he typically has hanging off of him watching your interaction with bated breath. “when you have an answer, just call for me. i’ll be there.” 

“wait,” you say, turning in your chair to face him. “i don’t even know your name.” 

“you can call me osamu.” he smiles and winks at you, tucking his jacket closer as he begins to walk away. “we’ll be in touch."

three weeks pass before you see him again. 

you’d decided quickly what you would say to him, and after two weeks worth of auditions that led to nothing, drinking without a friend in the world, alone to rot in your bedroom, you’d made up your mind.

osamu’s proposal, now, after everything you’d suffered, seemed too good to be true. how long had you wished for a companion, for money, for a steady job—and now, these were all things he promised to provide you, if only you’d stand by his side. 

you’d called to him at the start of the week, said a prayer to any angel named osamu that was out there—but no one came. 

night after night, you said the same prayer, wondering, if perhaps, you’d been made a fool of. that everything he had said was a lie, and you, truly, were doomed to live an unhappy life. maybe, he was mocking you for your misfortunes, for your weak heart. 

though, on the twenty-first day after your discussion, you awaken to a figure standing in the corner of your room, watching you with hawklike eyes, the shadow of a wingspan shaped out behind him. 

you gasp, nearly letting out a scream as you scramble to a seated position in your bed, bringing the sheets up to your chest. the man is nothing more than a silhouette, so dark in the moonlight, but you know, without seeing his face, that he is the one you’ve been searching for.

“osamu,” you say, trying to quell the fear that has made a home in your chest. you gawk at him as he uncrosses his arms, sauntering over like he owns the place, like he’s been here before, knows the shape of your body, even under the sheets you hide within. “you heard my prayers.” 

“i apologize for not coming faster,” he smiles in the darkness, teeth glimmering under beams of starlight. his face becomes visible then, and it steals your breath away—he is more stunning than you remember, skin nearly glowing, golden. “you were beginning to sound desperate.” osamu watches as your breathing evens out, your eyes flicking over his features. “is that still the case?” 

he is a sight to behold sitting before you, the very essence of power seeping off of him in waves. a creature crafted from the hands of god, shaped to be the very thing that would protect the weaker creations. 

osamu’s skin, his hair, every inch of him is without flaws, while you are but a sinful human girl who succumbs to each of her urges. 

“i want—” you stop, realizing that you’re not sure what you want. to be an actress, yes, a famous starlet that is cherished by the masses. but, when you look at osamu, the soft, plump shape of his lips, the lean limbs that hide under his tailored coat, you wonder if fame, security, comfort—perhaps, those aren’t the only things you desire from this exchange. “i accept—”

“you sound uncertain,” he interrupts, eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “you called me here, begged me to come steal you away, and now, you change your mind?”

“no!” you say, scrambling to grab his wrist as he starts to stand from the bed, his eyes flashing as you reach for him on all fours. “i’m not changing my mind. i want to be famous, i want to be yours.” you swallow, choking out the word as it turns your cheeks warm, the heat making its way up from your toes. 

it hit you harder that you anticipated, the taste of belonging to another. you aren’t sure if its because you’ve craved the connection for so long that it’s twisting your insides, turning you into something desperate, or if, already, you feel an invisible string tying you and this stranger together. 

“but?” osamu asks, still seeming like he’s about to flee, his eyes hard, blinking back at you. there is something about you that he wants, but he won’t take it, not unless you crave him just as much. it muddles your mind, confuses you—he could have anyone, could take anything. yet— 

“but why do you want me?” you ask, releasing him to curl your fingers around the blanket. “i don’t understand.” 

osamu balks, then laughs, his eyes crinkling as he regards you with some sort of gentleness. “perhaps i have always loved humans a little too much, much more than i should, at least.” he curls a piece of your hair around his finger, hums to himself. “innocent creatures that my father cursed with misery, blaming their own sinfulness against them.” osamu licks his lips, hungry as dark eyes cover your face. “but it’s not entirely your fault that you must bear the torment of generations. just as it is not my fault that i was born with a lust for something much more delicate than the creatures of heaven.” 

he strokes your cheek, fingers grazing you like you are nothing more than a piece of glass, that you might shatter under the force of his power. perhaps you would—with too much, he might break you, turn you into a pile of ash with a snap of his finger.  

“but there are millions of us to choose from,” you say, sweating under the blanket as your heart pounds in your chest. the breadth of his power becomes more obvious with every passing second, and yet, you crave  a taste of it. “what makes me so special?”

he wraps a large palm around your jaw, thumb pulling at your lower lip. the tip of it dips into your mouth as you watch him with wide eyes, frozen, but not from fear. “i was meant to be your guardian angel, to be the guide that leads you away from the devil until your dying breath.” he moves closer, dipping his head towards your lips, brown irises never leaving your own. “and yet, the moment i laid eyes on you, i had already broken the first rule.” 

you stumble over your syllables, whispering them breathlessly. “and what’s that?” 

osamu smiles, muttering the words against your mouth, his voice ghosting over your skin. “angels are wired to protect those that we are assigned to,” he says, swiping his tongue against your lip, just barely kissing you, the sounds low and breathy. “we’re not supposed to want to fuck them.” a finger drags slowly, sensuously up your arm, and you can’t move, can’t do anything but watch as he pushes you, sinks you slowly into the bed. “i have never wanted anything as badly as i want you.”

you breath, in and out, slow, as the heat settles in your stomach, a burning pool of need churning there. it’s been so long—so long—since anyone has touched you in a way that is kind, has wanted to please you, instead of steal from you. “all that, just for me?” you ask cheekily, though you’re still not sure that he is telling the truth. 

maybe he is the devil, but you no longer care. his voice is so sweet with praise and affirmation, bleeding into the softness of your heart. 

he shrugs. “perhaps i was always meant to fall.” your head hits the pillow. you aren’t sure when he got you pinned on the bed. osamu looms over you with wide, burning eyes, licking his lips with an ache he doesn’t bother to hide. 

“osamu,” you shudder, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself. it is too much, suddenly, all at once. you are filled with need for him, clawing at his skin as he commands complete control over you with nothing but his words. “i—”

your sentence is stolen away by a kiss, one that burns from your mouth all the way down to your toes. it twists something within you, turns you into a monstrous being that you had not realized you were, longing so recklessly to be touched. 

his hands roam over your body, touch featherlight as he removes your dress, drags it slowly off your body, eyes grazing over every inch of your skin like he wants to devour your whole.

he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, fingers lightly dipping down your chest, between the swell of your breast to your ribcage. “how cruel of our father to keep us from such divine creatures,” he says, leaning down to kiss up your stomach, lick the skin around your breasts. “perhaps we are the ones that are truly being punished.”

you writhe under him, hands curling in his hair as his own dips between your thighs. grabbing his scalp hard, you yank him back up to your lips, and your eyes meet, both dark and dangerous as you brush your nose against his own. “you are punishing me right now.” 

“is that so?” he laughs, eyes flashing with humor. “such a greedy, impatient little thing.” osamu slips out of his coat, his shirt, revealing the tent that has already grown in his slacks. they are the next to go, and his golden skin is revealed, the perfection of every line and angle of his body heavenly and refined. he leans down to whisper in your ear, breath ghosting the shell of it. “act like such a princess, but i know you want to be fucked until you can’t form a single thought, don’t you?” he says, and the coolness of his voice has you squeezing his shoulders, gasping out his name.

your skin burns, your chest burns, an ache gathering and settling deep in your stomach. your cunt throbs as you look at the angel before you, and he kisses down your neck, bites a hard bruise into your collarbone. 

you whimper, wondering why you ever questioned going with him, when he could make you feel this good from nothing more than his hands on your skin. 

“such pretty fucking tits.” he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, teasing the bud as you cry out loudly in the silent room. far too loudly for the thin walls, the cheap apartment. yet, you wonder if you care that your neighbors can hear the noises that come with your pleasure. 

“that’s it,” he purrs, kissing down your stomach before his lips reach your hipbone, smiling into the sensitive skin there. “so quiet before… thought i was doing something wrong.” 

“n-no,” you say, chest rising quickly as you watch him hover above your soaked cunt with anticipation. “feels good.” 

osamu smiles, spreads your legs farther, so your dripping, aching hole is on display, embarrassingly, every inch of you vulnerable to him. “look at you,” he says, eyes hazy as he holds you tight, digs his fingers in your skin. “so fucking perfect. bet you taste as good as you look.” 

there isn’t a moment for you to say a word—his head is already between your thighs, kissing your clit before sweeping his tongue through your folds, gathering up the wetness. a moan leaves his lips, and the vibration sends a wave of need through you as you squeeze his hair, force him back down on your cunt, nose dragging against your clit. “osamu, please.”

“ah, ah, ah,” he stops, licking his lips that are moist from your juices as his head lifts from between your thighs. a dark smile stretches across his features, calculating and cruel. “where are your manners, sweetheart? i don’t want you to cum too quickly.” 

you’re not sure what he means until you feel your hands pinned to the bed by an invisible force, the power of the angelic creature before you, finally obvious. you can’t move, can’t even writhe against him, even as you try to thrust your hips forward, gain any sort of relief from the position. 

he laughs at you, so pitiful at your desperation to be touched. “much better,” he says, and returns to lap at your cunt, tongue already stretching you as his fingers graze your thigh. 

“s-samu,” you say, feeling the heavy pressure build down in your stomach. “want,” your cheeks grow hot, and you’re tingling with a need to touch him, but you can’t move. his pace is too steady, too slow. you’ve never wanted to scream more. “want your fingers. please, please.” 

“please? such a good girl.” osamu grins against your pussy. the sound of his tongue slurping at your arousal is loud in the darkened space, and you clench around him, burning with need and shame. “you taste so good, too. better than any of the fucking shit in heaven. fuck.” he slips a finger in then, working at your clenching hole as his tongue curls around your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud. 

your words leave you in a cry, every muscle in your body aching. “please, i want to move. let me touch you, i want to, i—”

“i’m not letting you go that easy,” osamu says, and he pulls his mouth away, his face glistening, soaked. his fingers curl into you and you squeeze your eyes tight as he reaches deeper, to the second knuckle. “you’re so fucking worked up. bet you could cum at the sound of my voice alone.” 

“i wanna, please, i’m so close—"

he laughs, looking up at you from under dark lashes. “already?” the sound is mocking, nothing about it soft as he kisses your inner thigh. he sees the desperation in your irises as you can do nothing but stare, unable to twitch a single muscle. “gonna cum all over my face?” he asks, and he’s back between your legs, tongue diving into you. “make a mess on me, sweetheart, wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum.” 

you don’t think you’ve every felt like this before, basked in the moonlight as the angelic man soaks his face with your desire, smiling at the sight of you so sinful. your heart hammers in your chest as you remember what you’ve promised him—that you would be his forever and, perhaps, this is what forever entails. 

breathy moans leave you, and with each thrust of his tongue, you’re left with less words on your lips, less thoughts in your mind. “feels so good, you’re so good, osamu,” you babble, over and over. 

osamu reaches the deep spot inside of you, and you squeeze him, clenching as you come on his fingers, cry out in the space of black room, nothing but the stars to guide you. you’re not sure you’ve ever come this fast before, not without the help of your own hands, but osamu just continues to lap at your cunt, drinking the juices and making lewd noises of pleasure at the taste of you. “mm,” he hums, “so fucking perfect.”

he fists his cock, already hard as his tongue swirls inside of you, and you lose any train of thought, too focused on the way he’s making you feel. 

osamu is hard, leaking before he shifts onto his knees, rubbing his cock between your folds, gathering slick at the tip. “want my cock, baby? such a pretty thing deserves it, don’t you think?”

you nod, muttering syllables you don’t even understand. osamu teases you, drags his cock against your hole as he kisses your lips. 

“use your words, sweetheart,” he smiles. his soaked fingers leave patterns of your own slick on your stomach. 

you groan, eyelashes wet. “want your cock, ‘samu, please, wanna be stuffed so full,” you babble, and you can’t do anything but lay there, even though you want to touch him, want so badly to shift your hips into him. “please, osamu, please,” 

he makes a noise in the back of his throat, grinning as he plays with your nipple, lining himself against your dripping hole. “so fucking sweet for me, anyone would think you were the angel, wouldn’t they?” osamu asks, and then he sinks into you, slow, eyes careful as he searches for any pain in your features. 

you blink up at him, making a soft noise as you writhe under your skin. “b-big,” you say, feeling him stretch your walls as he sinks further. 

though his eyes are careful, he doesn’t bother to stop, each second dragging as he inches further into you. he laces his fingers with yours on the bed, grinning as dark hair falls into his eyes. “i think you can take it, can’t you? you’ve been sogood for me already.” 

sucked into the coolness of his gaze, you don’t realize that he’s released you from whatever spell you’ve been trapped under, kept helpless on the bed. you gasp as he sinks into you completely, aching from a mix of discomfort and the deep need with you. 

“too much,” you say, but he sinks further, deeper, and your walls clench around him, bringing a heavy groan out of both of you. “fuck, please, let me move, i—” 

“i’m not stopping you,” he kisses you hard, sloppy as his saliva drags across your lips. there’s a possessiveness in the way he fucks you, dragging his mouth across your own, claiming you as his. “you take it so fucking well, angel, slipping right into this soaked pussy.”

his words take a moment to reach your disoriented mind, and when you try to move, you can, your hands flying to his shoulders to bring him closer. your whimpers are loud in the hollow room, and osamu loves the sound of you, drinking each little whisper in like a heavenly elixir. 

“you’re so pretty,” he says, kissing across your forehead as you arch into him. “making you feel good, hm? so fucking innocent, and i’m ruining you.” 

“mmm,” you force the sound out as osamu thrusts into you, hard against the mattress, his hips moving in a steady, fast rhythm. hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his brown eyes even darker in the midnight hour. 

your fingers graze across his back, between his shoulder blades, and though your touch is featherlight, he freezes, stops immediately with a loud groan as he clamps his teeth down on your shoulder. 

you breath in sync, your chests rising and falling together. “osamu?” you ask, staring up at him, his eyes pinched together tightly as he grits his teeth. 

“sensitive,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “fuck, i’ll cum on the spot if you touch me there.” 

you blink, your haziness clearing as you let your hands fall to your sides. it takes you a moment to realize why he would curl away from your touch there, why he would—

“your wings?” you ask, and he drags his gaze back up to your’s, nodding, before dropping his head onto your collarbone. he exhales into your neck, resuming a slow, steady pace inside you. though, you place a hand on his chest, feel his erratic heartbeat. “can i see?” 

“you don’t want to.” 

you pinch your eyebrows together, but he shifts his hips, forces a cry out of you as you collapse back down against the mattress. “i do,” you argue, but he’s fucking you mercilessly, sensuous sounds echoing in the room as he attempts to distract you. “i want to.” 

he’s about to deny your request, but you let out another soft please, batting your eyelashes so sweetly. your cheeks are flushed from the heat in the room, and, for some reason, he relents, bowing his head in some sort of remorse. slowly, his wings span out across the room. 

you lose your breath for a moment as you stare at them, muddled from the feeling of him inside and the beautiful sight before you. the wings are thick, black and feathery, spanning the length of the room, casting a dark shadow over you. they’re strong and unwavering, with a sheen that could be seen only on a raven, the light turning the shades from a deep purple to green. 

“oh,” you can’t mutter anything else as he drags his tip against the sensitive spot inside you. “oh, they’re so beautiful. fuck, osamu, i can’t—”

you can’t stop yourself from touching them, dragging a gentle touch against one of the feathers. osamu cries out, groans into your mouth as your walls clench around him, sweat dripping between you as your chest presses against his own.

“shit,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “oh, i’m so close. gonna make me come, aren’t you, baby? squeezing me so fucking tight, touching me like that.” 

his eyes are hazy, and, somehow, for some reason, he’s let you have control of the situation. he kisses your face, treats you with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of, his lips so warm against your skin. 

the dark, heavy wings cage you in, falling over the two of you, and you run your fingers against them once more as you feel another orgasm creep upon you. your clit rubs against him, and your slick drips between the two of you, down your thighs as your breath catches in your throat. 

for a moment, you revel in the feeling of him deep inside you, and you close your eyes, his feathered wings so soft under your palm, letting your pleasure overtake you.

though that is short-lived as osamu pinches your jaw.

“hey,” he says gruffly, “look at me. want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you cum.” and though his eyes are soft, delicate from the way you’re stroking his wings, he sounds so mean, so possessive. “gonna fuck all my cum inside you, cause you’re mine now.”

your fingers curl around the feathers, hard as you tug him down towards you. osamu moans deep into your mouth when you clench around him, your orgasm rolling over you again as you scream his name into the blackness of the room. 

“such a good girl f’me, fuck, i—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, already filling your soaked pussy with his cum. it seeps deep inside of you, coating your walls white until he pulls out, lets his seed drip between the two of you. 

osamu presses his fingers across your face, dragging the delicate touch around your jaw, your chin as you breath heavily, still awestruck by the creature before you. you’re exhausted, sleepy, eyes hazy as you regard him with stuttered breath. 

but he doesn’t let you go, kissing you over and over again with flushed lips. “i know you can give me one more,” he says in a low voice, humming against your throat. “my perfect mortal girl. just one more, and i’ll give you whatever you want, got it, pretty?” 

your body aches, sensitive and spent, but you don’t object when he slips another finger into, kissing you hard as he lets you touch his raven wingspan. 

you’d always wanted to be an actress, anyways. 

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

[alphajocklover]

Hey 😈 I wish someone would help me become a massive gay bodybuilding whore. I’m already on my way gaining weight, but I wanna be gigantic. Think you could help?

So you want to become, in your own words, a massive gay bodybuilding whore. That shouldn’t be too hard. As I’ve already shown you through my other post, there are numerous ways that people can get transformed into different types of jocks. The fact you want to specifically be a slutty gay jock does complicate things a little, since certain methods would turn you straight, but it’s still pretty simple. Instajock comes to mind as a good method for example, although I’ve talked about that app quite a bit recently and would rather discuss something new. There are many ways people can transform that I haven’t mentioned in the slightest, and your question actually brings up one I’ve been wanting to talk about for a long time. Mainly the emoji you used. Yep, for this transformation we’re going to get some help from someone very special: the Devil.

When I say the devil, I don’t really mean ‘The Devil’. Don’t get me wrong, he is a devil, but he’s not the devil from the bible. He just… works for him. I know that sounds bad, and honestly it definitely is. I don’t know much about the religious side of the magical world, but I do know that the Devil, with a capital D, does exist. He might be a fallen angel who wants to turn humanity to sin like from religious text, or he might just be a very powerful magical being using human religion to boost his own reputation, but either way he definitely exists. And just like in the old folk stories, he makes deals with people in exchange for their souls. Strangely, as the stories had spread and grown more prevalent, the demand for a deal with the Devil has actually skyrocketed. You’d think a bunch of stories about how making a deal for your soul is a bad idea would discourage people, but surprisingly it’s only increased business. Because of that the Devil’s operation has grown. The Devil is powerful, but he’s not god, he isn’t omniscient. So, to keep up with demand, he began to delegate. Instead of doing one deal at a time and seeing to every deal personally, he has a large team of demons that make deals for him. That's where my friend Nick comes in.

Nick isn’t his real name, but since humans can’t really pronounce his name he just lets me call him Nick. He is one of the more powerful demons working for the Devil, and specializes in making sexually explicit deals. As you can probably guess, he deals with a lot of people and has made a lot of deals. He’s not as outright evil as you might expect though, and he was actually a close friend of my Uncle. He had a sort of soft spot for my Uncle, and would often help him out with certain things. I don’t know how they met or why my Uncle seemed to be friends with a literal demon, but they got along really well. Now that my Uncle’s gone though, he helps me instead. I think he does it a bit out of guilt. He couldn’t protect my Uncle, his favorite mortal, from being turned into a jock, so now he protects me. Because of this I like to send him a willing victim now and then, as a thank you.

So, your first instinct is probably to say no. I mean, as much as you want to be a gay jock slut, you probably don’t want to sell your soul and be doomed to an eternity in hell. The thing is, these days they usually don’t ask for your soul. The Devil long figured out that there were more subtle ways to get what he wanted, so usually the contracts ask for something else. Sometimes it’s something significant, sometimes it’s almost nothing. Whatever it is usually works into his very complicated plans somehow in a way we almost can’t comprehend, but he never asks for your soul anymore. In exchange for becoming a massive gay bodybuilder jock, all Nick would require is… your car.

Yes, the devil wants your car. You’re probably wondering why, and honestly I don’t know. It’s not even a new car, and it’s kind of lame. But that's what he wants, and in exchange he’ll give you the body and mind of your dreams. I know you’re probably pretty skeptical, and If I’m being honest there probably is some sort of catch, but-

Oh! Ok, so, you’re doing it. I was expecting a bit more resistance but you seem pretty sure. Well, I do hope it works out for you. All you have to do is write your name on the contract and the deal will be sealed. Just write your name at the bottom there… and perfect! You’ve just made a deal with a devil!

I know you feel a little confused, but give it a second, it will pass. A sudden change in your body is always disorienting, but you’ll get used to the new you pretty quickly. I mean, look at you! You’re absolutely massive! Those arms, those pecs, those shoulders! God you really got a great deal. You get to live out your fantasy life, and all you had to do was get rid of a piece of shit car. I can’t be sure why he wanted it, but my best guess was that it’s going to cause a butterfly effect where, because your car didn’t cause a traffic jam when it broke down or something, something else will never happen. But there isn’t any use in dwelling on it anymore. You’ve made the deal, so fucking enjoy it! Go out there and have hot gay sex with as many guys as you can! You made a deal with the devil, you might as well get all you can out of it!

**hey everyone! Been a little bit! I’ve been kind of distracted and busy lately but I’m still alive and kicking! Hope you guys like this story and keep tuned for more! I also wanna make clear I am not trying to offend any religious group. I just love the deal with the devil idea.**

[heavenlyraindrops]

Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~ Teaser ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Song: Eve by Precious Pepala Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Mature Content (its Hazbin, come on guys) Smut (probably idk yet, I will of course warn before it shows up- if it does)

♱♱♱ You, the most virtuous of angels, the kindest soul that had ever graced the ground of Heaven. The Seraphim adored you, the First Man wanted you- you were everything.

You remembered the way the Seraphim had offered to create a third wife for Adam- you were there. He had stared into your eyes as he spoke, addressing the Seraphim.

“I don’t need you to make a third wife.”

You knew how highly the angels thought of you. Sera had told you repeatedly how you were completely Pure in her Judgement, her eyes sparkling with adoration for your virtue. You just smiled sheepishly and did you best to remain humble, which only made them love you more.

Which is what made your fall from grace so shocking.

♱♱♱

[Sneak Peek]

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered, the words feeling alien in your mouth as you paced your living room. Your mind ran through your earlier interaction with Emily. ♱♱♱

“Emily, what do I do if I want to… repent for something?”

Emily’s eyes flashed with concern. “Why, what did you do?”

You knew what she was thinking. Sweet [name] would never commit a sin. Sweet [name] would never have to repent.

“It was just a little thing, I just felt bad about it, and I want to- to clear my conscience.”

Emily tilted her head, her face relaxing as you assured her it wasn’t a big deal. “Sure then. Sera tells me that there’s a confessional on this street-“

You winced, visibly, and her frown reappeared again. “Or,” she continued more slowly, “you could just say a quick prayer at home. ‘Father forgive me, for I have sinned… and then say what you did. Please forgive me.’ Sound good enough for you?”

You nodded. “Thank you, Emily.” And watched her as she turned and walked away, eyes fixated unseeingly onto her back as it disappeared.

♱♱♱ You dropped to your knees as the world lurched around you. You felt like you were going to be sick.

Just say it. Just say the words.

“Father…” Your voice cracked and you trailed off. You glanced out the window, before sitting up properly and tracing the shapes of the clouds againts the glass. How could you say the prayer when you knew, that whatever had happened, you didn’t regret it?

The hollowing pit of despair in your gut only grew deeper as you thought. What would the Seraphim say? You gulped.

You closed your eyes. You couldn’t keep them closed for long- the image of Lucifer was seared across the back of your eyelids. It didn’t matter. The feel of his hand was printed on your wrist. On your waist. The warmth of his lips on yours still lingered. His eyes. Why did he have to be so beautiful? You shuddered.

You knew that you could just forget this, bury it, never visit Lucifer during the exterminations again and continue your life as an angel. But you knew, at the same time, that he was too unforgettable, and it would only be a matter of time before someone found out if you continued- because you could never, ever stop.

“Father forgive me, for I have sinned,” you forced the words out, voice shaking. “I have fallen in love with the Devil.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay tuned guys!

Note: if u want to be added to the taglist then just lmk!

Update: Chapter One is now up!

[robogalaxies]

☎️ - The Unneeded But Happily Researched Crumbs Of Everything We Know About The Commissioner

“If anything happens… I’ll deny I ever knew you.”

The Commissioner is, as we all know, a mystery, and I hope it stays that way, but I put it upon myself to wrangle every little tidbit of information we have on him outside of giving cases! I do this solely because of three things:

I have nothing better to do

I find myself strangely endeared to his character (i.e. I do a gay little "favorite character" clap every time I hear him mentioned)

I want to share all my random knowledge with you all because I go digging for it in every S&M media there is

I'll be dividing this up into 4 sections for ease of access: comics lore, games lore (HtR, Telltale, TTIV), cartoon lore, and misc. lore. Some things MAY be assumptions based on other characters' reactions to what he MIGHT be saying or say about him, sure, but I will source all information on where to find it & provide images when they can be easily provided!~ If anything new comes up or I have forgotten something, I'll update. Until then... hope you love both hyperlinks and "at least I laughed at it" style commentary! ☎️

Comics Lore

The introduction of The Commissioner, as with everyone else! Small tidbits of his quite understated character outside of being The Phone are here, obviously, including:

the Commissioner's one and only speech bubble! (Bad Day on The Moon)

the beginnings of the implied "I love you" statements towards Sam & Max with an "XOXO" on a postcard (Bad Day on The Moon)

he shows SOME disdain towards Sam & Max's attitudes towards achieving their goals, being the one specifically to tell them to go on a road trip (On the Road #1, "Prisoners of The Casbah")

Games Lore

Hit the Road

The Commissioner is barely a character in this game (big surprise, right?) and you do not get much information on him minus the bare minimum of "he is Sam & Max's boss," so there's not much to be said here. In fact, I don't know why I mentioned it. Great game, though, go play it! Now! I'll wait until you get back :)

Save The World

Welcome back! There're only minor silly tidbits here, but they're needed for this comprehensive list. Everything is worth mentioning about a character with nothing to his name but "The Commissioner." I mean, you're reading this post, right?

wears bifocals! 👓 ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

was once in contact with & worked with Harry Moleman, as he sent him to be the mole for the Toy Mafia. Crossover of the century... I wonder if he knows how far poor Harry has fallen ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

Takes Sam & Max out for dinner sometimes, apparently, if they do well enough on their cases! Squirrel Garden sounds disgusting, but I'd be jazzed too if they also had the free breadsticks ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

likely just a quick jab, so I don't really know why I'm putting it here other than humor, but Max apparently doesn't trust him! I hope that gets solved; Commissioner is sorta signing his meager paychecks ("Bright Side of The Moon")

Beyond Time and Space

The middle child of the Telltale trilogy, this game has barely anything in terms of tidbits given that he really only assigns the beginning cases in 1 out of 5 episodes, and even then, that doesn't give a single thing away. Despite this, there's gotta be one or two tidbits we should learn, right? Sure!

is aware of Sam's insistence on answering the phone & seemingly asks straight up why he didn't answer (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

Can confirm an "I love you" towards Max... d'aww! (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

The Devil's Playhouse

The Commissioner barely shows up or is referenced in this game, mainly due to the story existing outside of the common framing of "assigning cases," but we learn two small yet revealing tidbits:

British Columbian! 🇨🇦 (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

Has provided books on cultural and racial sensitivity for Sam & Max because they kept "reducing people to obvious stereotypes." (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

This Time, It's Virtual!

The phone exists yet again... but in your VR HEADSET! Some fairly funny Commissioner lore in this one even if you, like almost everyone I've seen in this fandom, dislike or even hate this game:

His family is in hiding, and I'm assuming Witness Protection?! Must come with the territory (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Can confirm an "I love you" of some sort said to Sam ... d'aww! (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Signs off even official, legal wanted posters with "The Commissioner," asking people to seek the help of Freelance Police & associates himself as PART of the Freelance Police!

signs your certificate at the end of the game, which mentions the Illuminati in conjunction with his name for some reason! What kind of policing are we running here....??

Cartoon Lore

Truly, the 90s cartoon is where most Commissioner lore lies if we take into consideration all of these happen within the same universe, which we likely shouldn't. This being said, the cartoon provides us with the only picture we have of the guy (see post photo above the cut). Alongside this, we also get a LOT more information than any other media:

before we even start the information in the ACTUAL cartoon, Sam & Max say within the show's initial Bible believe he's out to kill them, in some way, saying they're the "troubled, ungrateful sons he never had." That's so sweet ... in a way. As well, there's a very small section dedicated to the Commissioner as a character, though not much is said that we don't already know (Sam & Max Cartoon Series Bible)

has Geek's number, or at least a number to the Sub-Basment of Solitude, as he calls it more than once over the course of the series, which makes me wonder how well he may or may not know Geek! Like a grandniece or something (episodes 1, "The Thing That Wouldn't Stop It" & 3b, "They Came from Down There")

cried over the story of Sam & Max having to get rid of John, their beloved alligator son... must be a shared parental instinct (episode 6a, "That Darn Gator")

apparently sends sticker books in case briefings on a semi-regular basis, as Sam comments that he "loves when the Commissioner does that" as if it has happened before - how whimsical! (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

confirms the Commissioner as a legitimate police commissioner alongside being Sam & Max's boss (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

seemingly very fussy if not given his private bathroom and honor bar. Fancy stuff, Commissioner, & he apparently allows Sam and Max up there! Or not, they just sorta bust in. Whatever! Sharing is caring (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

the Commissioner has a DAUGHTER! and somehow, Sam & Max got invited to her WEDDING! I think she's beautiful and I hope she doesn't resent her special day getting ruined (episode 11a, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang")

that iconic, signed, chest only photo given with the solemn, loving, promise of "If anything ever happens, I'll deny I ever knew you," followed by Max crying that it's "It's just... so him." - what a loving, tender and slightly bordering on oddly familial relationship he has with Sam and Max... stop, I'll start crying! (episode 13, "The Final Episode")

Misc. Lore

These are lore tidbits that are present in mediums either outside of the media itself, belong in a game that is not technically part of the larger S&M canon, or has to do with out of media context, but should be included anyway because why not!

gifts Sam & Max a new floaty pen from a different United State every Christmas ... but not really anything else! (Poker Night 2)

Sam & Max discuss the Commissioner's power in response to doubt about his existence, claiming "Don’t you know he’s everywhere? He knows we’re talking about him right now!" - which is sort of scary, but I'll let it slide because it implies that the Commissioner's surveillance is of a much higher caliber than we initially thought and that is BANGER (in-character interview for Telltale, found here on Steve Purcell's Sam & Max FB page)

He's affectionate yet surly & I'm sure all those "I love you" statements contribute to that! D'aww... (Skunkape Origin Video)

Voiced by a member of Bay Area Sound, Julian Kwasneski, in the Telltale trilogy! Talked about and even has a LINE recited in this specific developer commentary! We love a mysterious boss who sounds like an adult in Peanuts.

God bless the guy, he had a rash! Does this matter? No. Will it ever matter? Likely not, as it was from the sadly cancelled Sam & Max: Freelance Police trailer. Sighs. At this point, you can tell I'm just adding whatever mentions we get of the guy. Makes me giggle, though.

Conclusion...?

In the end, the Commissioner is a mystery, and always WILL be a mystery. Hell, I sort of never want to know as it will ruin every single thing I have worked so hard to archive, but it is fun to comb through the different canons! Of course, it is likely any of this can be tossed out or considered non-canon in the blink of an eye because Sam & Max always loves to give a middle finger to character details if they don't affect the main plot & likely a lot of these are mere gags. The Commissioner is phone, and always will be only phone. However, it's always in my best interest to try to find ANYTHING to push back the curtain even the tiniest inch, and I hope my efforts were worth it. Now, to sign off, just press that phone! You got it, you got it! ☎️

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 1

You weren't originally supposed to be in hell. You only ended up here after telling Adam you refused to be his Third wife. He was a bitter prick about it, and shoved you out of heaven. Last thing you saw as you fell, was the look of shock and regret on his face. Not that you cared. He didn't deserve your forgiveness or pity…

Next thing you knew when you opened your eyes was pain. A burning sensation from your back. Oh fuck, your wings! They- they're not supposed to bend like that! You scream in agony and despair, realizing you'd broken and bent your wings! There was no way to fly back up to heaven now!

“Someone… Someone help!” You cried out, hoping maybe somehow one of your friends in heaven could hear your prayers. But… it was pointless. No prayers from hell could ever reach heaven, not even from an angel. Now here you were… fallen.

“Whoa! That looks pretty bad.” A voice, footsteps getting closer!

“Please! I- I don't belong here!” You tried to sit up, barely managing it with a sob. You look up to see who the voice belonged to.

“I'll say, you're in my garden, almost landed in my rose bushes too.” A short man with blonde hair frowned at you with his arms crossed. “I swear, just because my wife has been off working for seven years, doesn't mean I'm magically single! How did you get in here?”

“I… fell… who are you?” He looked surprised by your words.

“Who am I?! You're kidding right?” You shook your head, and he got serious.

“where did you fall from?”

“Heaven…” He took a deep breath through his nose.

“I see…” He started walking towards you, and you started to pull your wings around to shield yourself, having forgotten they were broken. This made the firey pain flare back up! You hadn't noticed it go numb earlier, but now, you wished you hadn't moved them! You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips. It made him stop moving. 

“H- hey, I'm… I'm not gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft and low. “I promise, I just wanna help. Will you let me?” He held out his empty hands, waiting for permission before moving even a single step closer.

“Y-you still didn't answer my question. Who are you?” You had a sinking feeling…

“Me? Oh, nobody. Just the big boss of hell himself!” He chuckled at his own humor before shooting you a grin, “Call me Lucifer. And you are?”

Before you could answer, the world went dark, and you fell unconscious again.

The next time you open your eyes, you're in bed. A dream then. Thank God! But why have a nightmare about getting kicked out of heaven? Was it a warning Adam was gonna be a pissy shit when you gave him your answer today? You finally open your eyes and realize… this isn't your room. And… this isn't your bed! You sit up, wings curling around yourself as a shield and looking around frantically! Everything was extravagant and gilded! Some kind of palace suite? Then… oh. OH FUCK! YOU REALLY DID MEET LUCIFER!

“Oh hey, you're up! Great, hungry? I made pancakes.” The devil himself entered the room with a syrup soaked stack, steaming and fresh. Before you could refuse him, your stomach growled loudly, answering for you.

“I didn't think the devil would cook his own meals…” was all you could think to say. He set the tray in front of you, there was even a glass of juice.

“Why wouldn't I? Best way to make sure no one poisons me! Haha, not that it'd actually kill me.” He smiled, “oh, and you're welcome for healing you by the way. Once you're done eating, you can head back on up home.” He smiled and made a wing flapping motion with his arms. You giggle, it was kind of cute. He was so tiny, and handsome in a cute way. Not at all how heaven described him.

“You're… different from how heaven said you'd be.” You say, before eating some of the food he'd been generous enough to share. They were apple flavored.

“Oh really? And how is heaven describing me to you younger angels these days?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. 

“They said you would be cruel. Take joy in the pain and suffering of others. That you didn't know how to laugh or smile, only how to hate and hurt… but, you just proved all of that wrong.”

Lucifer was shocked, “I… that's how they think of me? My own siblings are telling people this?” He looked hurt, gripping a hand to his heart. “Mikey and Gabe… they know I'm not… that I'd never…”

You got up from the bed, you couldn't stand seeing him like this, on the edge of tears from your own words! You should have found a gentler way to… ah fuck it, too late for that now. You pull him into a hug, wrapping your wings around him.

“I'm sorry.” You kept your tone soft and genuine, and that seemed to be the last straw. He hugged back and started bawling into your shoulder! 

Now here you are, fallen from heaven, showing sympathy to the devil. You rubbed his back in soothing circles. “It's alright, let it all out, I got you.”

You weren't originally supposed to be in hell, but it didn't seem like such a bad place to be really.

(This was written for a very dear friend of mine. She's crazy for Lucifer, and I'm crazy about her so... yeah! Hope you all like it as much as she has!)

[gamblersdoll]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓!

anzai who’s fallen deep into his love for you has found himself in a lust— but can he control himself?

masturbation ,biting, blood smear, blood drinking, p in v, rut like themes, scratching, a semi shy anzai. not proofread.

he felt so disgusted by himself, how could he think about you in this way? you were more than this— you deserved more to be a simple thought that only gave himself pleasure. you weren’t some girl who was helping him come in his hand.

no, you were more than that, you were a huge crush he had for you ever since you came onto the job. (both of you had already spoke of this, but he still feels like even if you were dating, he’d have the hugest crush on you still ) he bit his lip, a hand stifling his moans and he flicks his wrists faster. oh god, how he wants you so bad. he wishes he could admit how he thinks of you in such an ungodly hour and way— but he cant, knowing how cruel the world can be towards devils.

but he feels so good, its better than him sinking his teeth into you somewhere. he cant, he has to find other ways of pleasure than that.

his hips buck up, a grunt rippling through his throat and he gasps. “oh, god..” he moans softly, his closed eyes squeezing tighter and he whines. “please..” his forearm covers his eyes, his balls lurching a little from the edging he gave himself. he grants himself ecstasy, feeling himself release fat, thick globs of semen ooze from his cockhead.

“where have you been, anzaii?” practically jumping out of your skin when he opens and quickly slams the door. your heart settles down, only realizing its your deviled beloved boyfriend, and sigh. “told you about suddenly coming in.”

“sorry,” he apologized, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek and he plops onto the side of the bed— your shared bed, next to you. “i just had to handle.. some things.”

“some things?” you ask, clarifying. you watch him nod his head, not even daring to look your direction— nor your face. “like what?” you ask, his face turning crimson and he starts to bounce his knee. “aaanzai?”

“i— uh..” he starts, stammering over every other word and he swallows thick spit. “i.. almost transformed. and i had to handle that.”

“you couldve just asked me for help, you know.” you sigh, going back to your phone and scrolling to try and ignore his words, you hated how he just had to do everything on his own. “cant even let your girlfriend help you with anything.”

he looks at you stunned, and a pang hits his heart. “yeah, i know— its just-“

“its just what, anzai?” you snip at him, eyes snapping to him. “that youre afraid of what’ll happen? youre not sure how i would look at you?” you badger him, you hate doing this to him, but you’re his girlfriend for fuck sakes! and your supposed to help him! “what could it possibly be that i cannot do to help you?”

he only stares at you, throat dry and his knee stops bouncing. he sighs, putting his palms over your hands. “i just—��

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his own and small tears dribble down your face. your smaller hands find their way onto his neck, pulling yourself a little closer onto him. he reciprocates, pulling you closer by your back and he breathes heavy through his nose, cocking his head to the side. “anzai, please, just let me help you— for once in this lifetime.”

he nods, sucking onto your bottom lip and pressing you down into the bed. his groin pressed against your clothed cunny, his groans spilling into your mouth as he feels your heartbeat from between your legs. he pins your hands by entwining his, the sweat mixing into your skin. he pulls up, staring down into your eyes and his eyes are red, yellow and black slits for pupils.

your heart beats faster, your head spins from how the room is starting to become a little stuffy— but you didnt mind, your lips parting open and spreading your legs a little more for him to make himself at home. “anzai..” you softly say, taking his hand and placing it to your dampened shorts. “please..”

he watches intensely, his heart of his own races and he nods. he takes his fingers and laced them around your waistband, pulling your inside shorts down and stills. god, youre wet.. and he has to reevaluate himself before he takes two fingers to lap up your juices— pressing the digits onto his tongue and he moans.

his eyes snap back to your face, pouncing onto you and he pulls your top and bra off, watching your naked movements. he feels.. new, but safe. and he leans forward, sticking his tongue out to flick at your perky nipple. he grabs his belt buckle, undoing the metal and he pulls his aching cock out; pressing his lips to yours again.

you squeak in his mouth, your arms around his neck and legs caging him in and a moan bubbles out when you feel his cock slide against your folds. you open your eyes, seeing his fangs out and glimmering in the light as he keeps his own closed— for now, at least.

“is.. this okay?” he asks, slowly thrusting his undercock against your clit and gathering your juices onto his shaft and some of his balls. “need you now.. more than ever, angel.”

you nod, feeling the stretch of your cunt open up to him as he slips himself in. he wasn’t exactly huge, nor was he average. its been a long time since you got laid, sensually of course. your old flings never had sex with you, just mere fucking.

he pauses at each inch sinking into you, a shaky breath at each inch and biting his lip. he cant help it, feeling your walls spasm onto his length and holding your hands down to keep himself grounded to earth. thats what he loved you for, for keeping him to earth.

“you ready..?” you ask, watching him tremble and your fingers trace his skin. “we can stop here if you—“

“i dont want to stop.” he redirects, kissing your shoulder. “im okay, we can keep going.”

you nod, a soft moan as he moved his hips inside of you, then pulling hisself back— just to push in deeper and deeper each time he got closer to your womb. “anzai..” you softly say, eyes closed and he feels it.

your pulse.

he feels his temperature rise up just a bit, well, it was already risen. he furrows his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and open mouth sucking on your skin. the sounds of his cock plunging into your juicy pussy echoing throughout the walls and his moans into your skin.

“wanted this for so long, so so long..” he whines, his left hand clawing at the fabric and the sound of it tearing alerts you for a second. he moans when you clamp down on his cock, sucking him in deeper than he already was and he jolts a bit. his mind starts to slip, his hand on yours to keep you close..

he grunts, his thrusts becoming more aggressive until you feel his adams apple start to bob a little, and he breathes heavier against your skin— and then you feel it.

he bit you, trying to desperately hide his moans. and yet, his teeth sink deeper into your skin, your flesh pulsating and he eagerly drinks the red liquid that oozes out from two puncture wounds. “a-anzai—“

he pulls you tightly to him, his thrusts starting to become ravaging and he pulls away, lips tinted with a deep red and he stares down at your shoulder. his hand subconsciously moves and presses against your wound, smearing red down to your breasts and a thumb caressing your lips.

“an—“ you try to say, but the devil’s lips press to yours again, it tastes like metal in his mouth. nothing you havent dealt with before, since you sometimes bite the inside of your cheek as a subconscious response or tic. and your moans spill as he continues to knock winds from your body.

“anzai, anzai, anzai!” you squeal, trying desperately to catch your breath and he nods, kissing the lobe of your ear to come undone, to help him get better. the coil in your tummy, thats been so eager and desperate to snap for however long hes been around you— it finally snapped, your walls spasming onto him and he gasps.

the sucking of your walls that pulls him in closer does something to him, his eyes rolling back and he grits his teeth, pulling his hips back in a desperate attempt and fat globs of his come dribble onto the back of your thighs.

both of you, together, lay against the soft mattress and he realizes what he’s done. “oh god,” he starts, pressing his digits to your shoulder. “i.. im sorry—“

“its okay, you didnt take a whole bunch..” you assure him, pressing the wound. “and you stopped when you shouldve, so its all okay. youre building your tolerance, remember?”

he nods, scooting himself closer to you and then taking your hands into his. “did you enjoy yourself?” he asks, his eyes back to having his dark circles and not his transformed state. “did i pressure you?”

“yes and no.” you say, a smile on your face.

“yes and no that you enjoyed yourself?” he asks, a little lost but hes got his heart in the right direction.

“yes i enjoyed myself and no you didn’t pressure me, anzai.” you correct him, kissing his lips. “its okay, i got to help you.”

“.. would you help me like this more often? you dont have to, but if you do then thats also okay—“

“anzai.”

“okay, i get it.”

️ ©️ 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙡 2024

[whereserpentswalk]

There was a mermaid who had chosen to go onto land, who had given up her tail for legs, her fangs for square teeth, her feathery gills for pretty pink lungs. And she grew to regret it. She had fallen in love with a mortal man, and found him to be nothing but a fool.

She hadn't realized how diffenet her new body was. She knew she would have legs, she prepared for that, but she didn't prepare to really be a human woman. Her silver scales were now replaced with pale skin, which seemed so weak and easy to hurt to her, she felt flayed alive. She wasn't prepared to wear clothing on her body, which felt like being trapped in a net. And not to mention how slowly she moved, how strange and disturbing it was to not be able to swim miles and miles whenever she needed to, she was trapped in one little peice of the world.

Not to mention, she had to eat human food now, which was set on fire before it was served to her, and it was sometimes made of plants. She wanted to vomit just thinking about it, but her new body needed it to live, and she cried through every meal. And just as bad where her new reproductive organs, that were so much more complex, and bled for her constantly, and made it feel like she was always wounded.

The worst thing about her reproductive organs was how her husband treated them. She had fallen in love with him from the sea, watching him and knowing so little about his kind or his disposition. He wanted to mate nearly every night, but wanted no hatchinglings to come from it. And human mating itself was disgusting to her, instead of just laying eggs for him he'd somehow be inside her. She didn't want to imagine the details. She made excuses to keep him away, but she knew some day she would run out, and wept knowing it would happen.

Her husband was a strange human. She thought he was a prince when she watched him from the water but he had a diffrent title as a duke of some sort, bowing to a king on a different continent. She had seen him in uniform and thought him a hero, slaying dragons and orcs and devils and harpies and goblins and witches. But all the dragons and harpies had fled to the skies, and the goblins and orcs deep underground, and the devils and witches had gone into hiding. She saw him set fire to a witch once, she wasn't sure she was a witch though, but it wasn't brave, all she did was cry, he didn't fight her at all.

All her husband's wars were with other humans. Sometimes humans with diffrent flags who seemed the same as them. Sometimes humans who had been on the land longer then him, who his armies pushed further and further from the coast. Sometimes his own subjects, weeping and broken masses, people he hurt, those were the wars he won the most. She wanted to help him just to be with him, but she learned human women weren't allowed to fight. So when he was at war he was away, and when he wasn't all he talked about was war, and money, and the awful things he wanted to do with her.

She expected to be his wife in a way she wasn't. She learned human wives were treated like children to their husbands, that they had to obey them, that he could yell and her and hurt her just like he did his servents. She learned he was able to yell at his servents, she was allowed to too but she didn't. She learned things she had to do, she had to become civilized, whatever it meant to be civilized. She wasn't allowed to go outside the palace, not alone. And she wasn't allowed to pray to the gods of the deep, she had to pray to the one god of the humans, a bleeding god on a torture device, a sad god, a weak god.

There was one final night when her husband tried to force her to mate with him, more forcefully then he ever had before. He hit her. And though she didn't have fangs anymore she bit him so hard he bled. He tried to restrain her, to undress her, to undress himself. She ripped off the part of his body he tried to pit inside her. And she thought it so strange, how blood looks on land, flowing to the bottom as opposed to floating away.

She walked to the water after that. And slowly walked in, losing herself in the waves. Some people think she became a mermaid again, and that she's safe in her kingdom in the deep. But others think she walked into the water knowing she'd stay a human, and let the ocean filling her lungs set her free.

[skuttlesstrawberry]

Sometimes Brennan’s degree in religious studies shines through in an awe-inspiring way. Take, for example, the Temple of the Fallen Sun from episode 17 of Fantasy High Junior Year: it is explicitly an imperial temple. Now, the obvious level is that its symbols are all about conquest, but on a deeper level, its very nature is an imperial conquest.

The reveal, towards the end of the Bad Kids’ time in the temple, that the Sunstone Empire did not originally build this place is also a reflection of the imperial project. It took a faith that was life-giving for its people and twisted it into something foul, something that in D&D was explicitly infernal, but it could not completely erase the underlying divinity. At the end, they could not remove the underlying uncorrupted temple infrastructure; at the end, they could not twist Ankarna’s core nature so much that she would be willing to kill her sister or her spouse. The imperial faith of conquest can take over a religion, Brennan seems to be telling us, but it cannot fully transform the spark of divinity at the core of the original faith.

So let’s now talk about Spyre’s Church of Sol.

Maybe it wasn’t planned that way, but the longer the Fantasy High saga goes on, the more clear it seems to me that the Church of Sol is in many ways the greater scope villain of the Bad Kids’ tale. For Junior Year, it’s not just that complete slimebag Bobby Dawn, the Church of Sol’s resident celebrity cleric, is actively onside with Porter’s plan to ascend to godhood; it’s also that in the Temple of the Fallen Sun, the Legend Lore spell told us that it was the Church of Sol who planted the idea with the Sunstones of transforming their god from a sun god to a god of war and conquest!

Note, importantly, that it is the Church of Sol and not Sol himself who planted this idea. Legend Lore told us that, actually, Sol himself was HAPPY with (re)uniting the various groups of Spyre’s gods into one community. Rather, it was Sol’s church that noticed their God’s domain was divided and decided to do something about it. Recall, also, that it was the Church of Sol that innovated Devil’s Nectar; it’s entirely possible that Sol was deliberately kept out of the loop when it came to the church’s plans to make him into the One True Sun God.

Now, we also know that there’s a kind of henotheistic trinity-like thing going on with Sol, Gallicaea, and Helio. There’s some sort of family thing going on with Sol as the top Father God and Helio as the Crystal Dragon Jesus son with the serial numbers filed off; witness the decidedly evangelical Christianity flavor of their related churches. There’s also the whole vibe from both the Church of Sol and Helio’s followers that their gods are the only correct deities to follow and any other faith (or way of life) is Dangerously Wrong. This plays directly into the way that they really kicked off the chaos of Freshman Year and therefore the Bad Kids saga.

Yeah, Kalvaxus was the big bad of Freshman Year, but he and his direct minions weren’t the first enemies that the Bad Kids fought. That would be Doreen and the Corn Cuties, who were themselves borne of the attempt by Coach Daybreak and the Harvestmen cult to corrupt their own faith’s chosen and break the world.

This is actually deeply important: while Kristen’s parents are assholes and directly tied to a doomsday cult version of Helioic faith, there’s always been an implication that beyond the Harvestmen there’s a healthier version of the church of Helio that we haven’t really been able to interact with. And that’s okay: even a healthier version of Helio probably wouldn’t have been healthy for Kristen, given the extent of religious trauma she’s had to deal with, so it makes sense that even in Freshman year Kristen was being offered by Heaven itself alternate ways to have faith.

In Sophomore Year, we got a glimpse of the conflict within Gallican faith, with Tracker discovering in Fallinel a more oppressive and passive version of her faith, and choosing essentially to stay behind to try and breathe new life into it. Importantly, we learned Fallinel Gallicaea has a relationship with Sol, and so their churches are intertwined; Brennan even talked in Sophomore Year about how Gallicaea in Fallinel was being shaped by her State Church followers there. It was that twisted Gallican church that duped Cassandra’s original followers into forcing her transformation into the Nightmare King, you may recall.

What this all seems to be pointing to is the existence of an organization entwined with the Church of Sol that discovered Devil’s Nectar and a way to twist divinity to their ends by manipulating followers into the shapes most suiting their ends. We know from Pok Gukgak’s cautious statements that even the celestial-level actors have some side eye for Sol’s supposed followers. We know from Bakur that there’s an open question as to whether Sol or his followers are REALLY calling the shots. So: if Sol’s followers have their own plans, what’s their goal in all this corruptive influence that they’ve been spreading around?

Now, here’s where we circle back around to Brennan’s knowledge of how real world religions and real world people work: the goal may simply be power and domination. In the real world, the connection between the State and some sort of organized Church power has always been a place where power and control could be minted. A cornerstone of the Roman Empire’s system of control was the idea of the Imperial Cult: you can absolutely continue worshipping your personal god as long as you also acknowledge that god’s place is subservient in the larger Roman order to Rome’s chosen divinity. On the other side of the world, China’s system emphasized having the Mandate of Heaven in order to rule; even their top divinity the August Personage of Jade would lose his job if he did not stay within the rules of the system.

In short: a group of folks who’ve figured out how to manipulate faith to make their positions indisputably Right are very dangerous in any world, and Brennan is absolutely correct to cast them as the villains behind the scenes manipulating everything.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober 2024, Day 1, Mirror (Self)

Alright here we go again.

Technically a sneak peak of a bigger thing to come in the future that I'm repurposing, and the result of my final playthrough and readthrough before EoW dropped being Four Swords Adventures and that made me sad about Shadow Link again.

Note that this is for the Four Swords Adventures iteration of Shadow Link that might evolve into an LU Shadow, not Dark Link in either LOZ or LU, I have other plans for him.

This one shot was brought to you by Scars by The Crane Wives, Ribs by The Crane Wives, Ruin by The Amazing Devil and Two Minutes by The Amazing Devil because the author's playlist decided to be incredibly cheeky when they blacked out to write this like an ancient seers being cursed with visions and then called mad and hearing they've been put up for execution.

As always the nature of the relationship can be romantic or platonic, mostly due to the author's time constraints and further plans.

Anyway enjoy the reading!

It was cold.

The sort of cold after a wildfire, when everything's turned back to ash, the sort that left burned your vision white after the flames licked through your veins and left an ache in your bones. He shuddered, coughed black onto the stone floor, shaking with a muffled whimper.

It never got any easier, being dragged from the Dark World and into the Realm of Light, the goddesses' world itself revolting against an intruder, wanting the wound torn asunder into their oh so precious realm cauterized. To purge the intrusion and smite it where it stands.

Too bad for them (and for him), his master didn't particularly care about what the world wanted. Didn't particularly care that he hadn't grow accustomed to the pain or the cold, he had to stand up. There was work to be done.

(Shadow gritted his teeth, willed himself not to think about the prophecy of a golden haired princess- because whether he liked it or not, it was prophecy. As those with divinity running through their veins are wont to spill from their throats so carelessly- of violet eyes and a smile a third moonlight and hands holding a hammer.

It always hurt more, after one of the heroes liberated one of the maidens, or the jewels, the pain lingering for days afterwards and carving a home in his metaphorical bones. But just this once he'd take the cold bite of the Four Swords over the pain in the hole in his chest that Vio's betrayal had left, something that felt so much worse than every other time before.

Just this once he wished that maybe, just maybe, the hurt would be too much to bear, that he wouldn't wake up again-

Why? Why does it hurt so much but he's still here? He already knew the Light was uncompromising and unforgiving, but he thought them at least above curses.)

His ears twitched as soft, almost silent footsteps came up to his side. Someone crouching by his fallen form, setting a cautious hand over his own that Shadow couldn't help but draw away from with a hiss, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the world again, to your face, carefully blank as you guided him to lean against your side, a silver choker with a crimson gem winked mockingly at him, the shade closing his eyes and going boneless against your side.

Shadow was so, so tired.

He heard you quietly sigh, plucking his cap from his head and running your fingers through dark amethyst, smoke and mist made hair. "I told you so."

"Shut up." He grumbled, nuzzling further into the crook of your neck. One clawed hand curling against your free wrist, digging into the skin. Absentmindedly noting there were new scratches just above the metal.

It was routine by now, the warmth of your existence against his own a welcome balm, not quite of the Realm of Light where it's unpleasant, not too close to the Dark World where he felt like melting back into the embrace of the darkness, only to howl in agony at being dragged out.

Memories not quite his own bled into his mind all the time. How you'd shape ice into flowers for the princess in winter with nary a though, of blinking and from one second to the next you'd have whatever sword he had hostage if you though it was time for a break with a smile brighter than the sun.

His master had changed that though. It took months for you to stop trying to claw the collar out and to stop trying to fight Vaati.

(Funny how holding a mage's dragon as a bargaining chip is just as effective as kidnapping a ruler.)

Your gaze flicked to the polished obsidian of the Dark Mirror, to the gold, ornate frame. "The offer is still open, you know. Let me take the suffering from you."

"No." He scowled, leaning back to glare into your eyes, a hint of fangs poking out from a maw struggling to keep the shape of a human jaw, "You helped him. Helped them." Shadow spat, there is that hurt again.

You shrugged, a movement that's just slightly awkward as you flinch, "That I did." You confirmed simply, it almost made Shadow see red as he leaned away, knocking your hand from his head in the process, but if there's anything him and the heroes shared, was a lack of a desire to hurt you. It was a little grating to be honest, "Vio even offered to take me with him, to be honest."

"Then why didn't you leave?" He demanded.

Why did you stick around?

Your eyes shuttered, a hint of conflict in your pursed lips. Before you found your words, they come out softly, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you why. You'll just have to find out yourself."

You tug your wrist from his grasp, and Shadow lets you go.

(Stubbornly pushing down on memories and emotions that arearen'tarenotanymore quite his.)

You stand and turn away, pushing the curtains away from your sight, you turn your tired eyes to Shadow with an emotion he can't put a name to. "Just keep it in mind that there's more than one way to end this. Nothing is truly inevitable."

Shadow watches you go. 'There's nothing that can be done. He tells himself, hand hesitating above the Dark Mirror, briefly, it curls into a fist. The hero's original self stares back at him.

'… Does he really believe that?'

He shakes his head, and focuses on willing the Dark Mirror to show him his counterpart.

His chest still hurts.

[heartfullofleeches]

*sigh* incubus reader pulling jeremiah out of the microwave and into the empty corridors of the church for an impromptu dance before dipping him and leaving before the old man can get a proper kiss

"Mr. Priest~ Spend time with me, won't you? I'm bored to tears."

"Mhm." Jeremiah pays you little mind as he snuffs out varying candles, pausing to stroke your horns as your paths cross. "Patience, my dear. You will have more of my time than you know what to do with soon."

You groan. This man converts your last meal into a member of his weird cult, forces them to break contract with you, and creates one of his own only to never have any fun. Sure he threatened to slaughter your entire race for not complying, but honestly that feels like the better option in opposite to this bore of a nightmare.

"But I wanna play now. The souls you give are nice, but I'm wasting away here."

You hop off the bench you whine upon, snaking your hands around Jeremiah's neck as you jump on his back. "Just think about all the things we can do. You may not be human anymore, but I know your desires. I've seen you undressing me with those eyes of yours... As if you playing keep away with me and your flock isn't clue enough for how obsessed you are with me."

Jeremiah swallows hard as your fangs nip his earlobe; claws caught in the chain of his cross. A self made man of the God shouldn't give into such temptations, but Jeremiah now had his own ways regarding worship. Still, he could not submit to you just yet for he still needed to rewrite the wrongs of his fallen Lord and remake the world into a place worthy of your combined grace.

Being a holy disciple truly was the greatest burden to bare.

"Just hold on a little longer for me...." Jeremiah kisses the back of your hand before ripping himself free of your hold. He walks over to a record player and grabs a vinyl from a crate on the floor.

"Enjoy some music until I am done."

You try your best to, but even the man's taste in music is boring. Some classical piece better fit for a ball rather than a technical date between a demon and a priest. You tap your foot along to the rhythm for an attempt at find some solace in the beat, a devilish grin working up your face as an idea pops into mind.

You creep up behind Jeremiah.

"Y/n, I said wait- What? What on earth are you doing? Let go."

You tug on the collar of his robes as you grip his shoulder, spinning him around to face you. The look on tour face makes his decrepit heart flutter, and anxiety levels to rise. You place an arm behind his back and grab hold of his wrist as you twirl across the floor to the center of the room.

Jeremiah hisses. "Y/n this is not funny. I am a very busy man."

"Aw, come on. I've been around for a couple hundred years and with whatevers going on with you you'll be here for a while too. Live a little."

You wrap your tail around his waist to prevent him from escaping, chest bumped up against his. The close proximity leaves Jeremiah with little choice but to subcome to your influence- nor does his will. He follows your lead as your steps slow and steady into a waltz.

"See? Now you're getting into it."

"Quiet." Jeremiah rests his hand on the curve of your spine and completely shuts off any distance between you; your laughter the sweet cry of angels as it plays in his ear. A little tame compared to what you orginally had in mind, but it wasn't so bad. You slow dance together for a while until the devil in you decides to have some more fun.

You lead Jeremiah near the benches before securing your hand on the center of his back and twisting your tail down to his calf to further throw him off balance as you drip him low. You stare into each other's eyes; your body guiding his into the seat before you mount the man as you work your fingers into his bleached locks. He closes his eyes as you drawn in, his reward for his obedience a single lick.

"See you later, Jeremiah."

The weight disappears from his lap and you from his sight as he opens his eyes. Jeremiah growls in frustration.

"Y/n? Y/n, get back here at once!"

No response - your giggles echoing from a far corner of the church. Jeremiah follows the sound of your voice. By the time he's done with you, hell would be a paradise you'd never see again.

[arthenaa]

Dark Red - Sebastian x gn!reader x Ominis

PLOT SUMMARY: while the world perceives the heavens and the underworld as realms clashing against one another in pursuit of building a world for their philosophies, the truth is that change is not so far beyond them. Especially when an angel and a demon begin competing against one another to pursue one of the overseers of purgatory: you.

WARNINGS: fluff, a bit of crack, reader is a heavenly figure, devil! seb, angel! ominis, sebastian and ominis r simps for you, ominis and sebastian are also dense af w each other, imagine not being aware that ur in love with the person u want to kill so bad, reader is both wingman, love interest, and just unbothered as fuck, ominis is referenced to be gabriel, modern setting, angels and demons are in an office setting its kinda funny, you're a tired girl boss just trying to make sense why these two idiots keep visiting you during work hours, God is kinda not happy w that, heavy christian ideologies and imagery, religious references, references to demons and the underworld, inaccurate and fictional connections of religious terms and biblical figure, norse terms cuz y not

TERMS: Highgard = Heaven, MidPath / Middle Path = Purgatory, Underworld = Hell, Fallen = devils / demons, Midgard = Earth

note: heya hihi <3 doing this in the midst of writing comms so that my head can get a break ueue. also a little celebration for my 20th bday and having 1M followers! tysm for enjoying my writing hehe. ive been thinking of this prompt for the past few days. anys enjoy <3 lmk if yall dig this kind of concept. did not proofread cuz im too lazy ig.

Whenever lost souls wander in the abyss, more often than not their questions pertain to one subject of interest.

What happens in purgatory?

It happens more than one can count—a series of experiences with those who have reached the end of the light, one can only deduce the general curiosity of humanity with the realm that keeps the heavens and the underworld in balance.

What is purgatory? While humans believe it to be a place of penance and purification, one would like to think of it as a place of sorting. A waiting room if one would find it amusing enough to resort in humor.

At least to Ominis anyway.

Ominis considers himself to be knowledgeable enough of the inner workings of the realms. He, after all, is one of the honored beings who got to work closely with the Lord. He proudly can say that he's done a lot for the glory of his creator to know things beyond what a normal being can perceive. He's a protector of the light and life that Yahweh brings.

However, there are still things he can't help but be curious about—like the cycle of good and evil with humans. Despite countless tries and efforts to save them from damnation, humanity still somehow finds itself on the brink of chaos. Despite that, their perceptions of the unknown continue to become more and more entertaining by the day.

Another is their perceptions of heaven and hell. Their enigmatic portraits and artistic interpretations fuel their imaginative ideals, influenced values, and understanding of the heavenly principles. While Ominis truly admires their dedication and faith in creating an ethereal image of the divine, the contrasting imagery of perception and reality somehow prompts a chuckle from this old man's lips.

If they knew the changes of the worlds beyond them, they might just have to change everything they know about it.

For starters, suits are mandatory. Everyone wears it here. It's become a staple for simplicity and formality. There are of course no limits to styling it but the suit and tie are a must.

Second, there are no conflicts between demons and angels. Well at least now. After coming to a proper agreement between the creator and the fallen, a civilized community has been built. Each is filled with roles and duties fit to serve the balance of the universe.

Third, it is exactly what you think it is. Desks filled to the brim with paperwork, scritching of pen against paper, and chattering of workers here and there. Highgard has become a modern-day office. Ominis hates the coffee on the 10th floor.

The archangel has already surrendered himself to normalcy, adapting to a new era of management and control. While this does seem to be more simpler and adept compared to the olden days, he does miss the times when he could feel the holy aura of his spear strike through a fallen's heart. In today's context, that's considered murder.

Now what does this relate to purgatory? As mentioned before Ominis still has a lot of things to be curious about and one of them are the things that happen within the walls of the Middle Path.

Specifically, the overseers.

While yes, he is considered to be at the top of the hierarchy. The overseers seem to nullify the authority of those at the top. Only the creator seems to have control over them, otherwise, they're at most the next level of superiority to him.

("The Horsemen of the Apocalypse," His brother, Nier, had mentioned as he leaned against the counter—stirring a cup of coffee with a wooden stick. "He placed them there to keep the balance. It's a land for neither the dead nor the living–a middle ground. They're natural seeds of chaos, of course. It's innate for them to destroy worlds with life and what better way to keep them at bay than to place them in the neutral zone?"

"I see," Ominis hums, fingers tapping at the desk as he leans back against his seat. Nier glances at him before throwing the wooden stirrer in the trash.

"What's got you interested in the overseers, Omi?" The nickname prompts a curl of his lips. Count Nier to be sentimental. The raven-haired man sips quietly as he awaits his response.

"Nothing," He replies. "It's just that out of all the realms, they seem to be less affected by the change."

Nier chuckles, taking a few steps forward to place a caring hand on his shoulder. "It's a place for judgment. We have too much love for humans while the fallen are too detached. The overseers are driven from humanity, they understand them better.")

The words of his brother ring within the depths of his mind, each making a resounding echo as he walks across the white halls.

To tell you the truth, this sudden interest in the middle path was formed not so long ago. A chain of events that prompted a burst of interest from this heavenly figure.

These series of events had formed a routine. There were 3 important things that you need to take note of in this scene.

One, the hallway Ominis is currently on is a bridge from Highgard to the gateway to the Middle Path. It's mostly known to be a connector and pathway for demons, angels, and any heavenly figure with the right permit.

Two, at the end of every hall, is a vending machine that serves coffee. Now, vending machines are not scarce in their company services. In fact, there are at least 5 machines stationed in every building. So, Ominis is quite sure that MidPath has more than enough vending machines to serve a batch of souls.

Third, at exactly 3 PM in Midgardian Time, there are approximately only two figures seen roaming about the halls of the connector.

One is Ominis himself and two, you guessed it.

An overseer.

Ominis walks toward the vending machine, slipping in a few coins before punching in his desired coffee. He takes a breath and takes a look at his watch. Just then, as the shorthand strikes the 15th, he hears the familiar click and clack of heels against the marble tiles.

They're here.

He hears them clear and perfect. The rustling of clothes against one another, the brush of their hands against the fabric, and that same walking rhythm.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Count Ominis to be a little obsessed but you really can't help but be interested in such a being. Neither angel nor demon—a seed of humanity so pure to the core that one horseman can produce an apocalypse.

An event personified.

It wasn't even God that made them but a natural occurence to life.

How interesting.

He hears the click of their shoes stop beside him, waiting for the brewing of his coffee. There were a few beats of silence, and the only thing Ominis could hear at that moment was the thumping of his heart.

"Gabriel," The overseer greets him, placing their hands behind the small of their back as they wait for their turn.

"Conquest." He greets back. The seed chuckles and heaves a sigh before silence ensues once more.

Same two words. Same format. Repeated for God knows how long he's been doing this. He punches in a latte, wishing the coffee would drip slower but heaven services always work out no matter what and so he gets his cup of coffee within 20 seconds.

He grabs the cup, sidesteps to the left, and takes a sip. The overseer steps forth, punching in their regular. Iced Caramel Macchiatto. The order takes the same time. 20 seconds.

They take the cup with swift movement before turning and making their way back to their department.

Once again, Ominis stands in the deserted hallways–a cup of coffee in his hands and another same old conclusive deduction of one of the horsemen of the apocalypse.

Coffee is an angel's desperation and fuel for conquest.

Ominis doesn't know what to feel about demons.

Beings natural to the abyss—they represent everything opposite to that of life. They thrive in the concepts of darkness, both figuratively and literally. Ominis is well aware of the millenniums he endured seeing the dust of broken horns and seething snakes crumble under his spear. He, after all, has seen everything from the moment the Lord has gathered his army to rule his rightful claim over his creations.

However, there are times like this when he decides it's okay. Demons are okay.

"I think there's a prejudice against smaller horns," Amit grumbles as he spreads a thin sheet of mayonnaise on his bread. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips formed into a pout. Ominis curls his lips at the tone of his voice. "Mine are perfectly well-sized! I-I don't see why this should be a problem at all."

"You're making it a problem, that's the issue," Ominis hears Poppy chime from his left. Amit glares at her response. Poppy's feathers ruffle as she stretches them out, flapping her wings gently to ease the tension on her shoulders.

The three of them were currently in the communal room. The day was slow and there were not many souls to be bustling and carrying on about. Ominis considers days like these a blessing and it was also partially because it was nearing Sunday.

Amit reaches his free hand and touches the spike of his horns. "My mother gave me these horns. I just think people are jealous."

"You're right," Poppy chimes as she tilts her head to give him a mocking smile. "Amit is always right. Can we talk about something else now?"

"You're too mean for a Principality."

"You're too much of a loser for a fallen," Poppy retorts with a nonchalance that almost prompts a chuckle out of Ominis. The demon gasps in shock which the angel giggles at.

"Just because we're on break and one of you is my superior-" Sharp glare comes from Poppy. "-doesn't mean I won't reprimand you two," Ominis cuts forth their humorous conversation with a stern approach. Poppy pouts while Amit grumbles. Then the blonde contorts his face into a wistful look. "However, I'm in a good mood so I'll let it be."

"Oho!" Poppy grins as she scoots her chair closer to him. "You do look even more dashing today, Ominis. What's got you in a good mood, hm? Perhaps, a promotion from upstairs?"

It was actually because he was able to, yet again, interact with the overseer but no one has to know about that.

Amit, ever the inquisitive being that he is, leans forward with raised eyebrows. "Are you in for a promotion to be in the middle order? I hear things start to get weird in that division."

"That's because most of the higher-ups don't look like us," Poppy responds with a bite of her sandwich. Ominis nods with his eyes closed. "At least in the middle and low. Both divisions were made to be accepting to the human eye, most specifically the low order. Ascending that high reveals true nature. The same goes for your monarchs."

Amit hums at the knowledge. While Ominis truly wants the opportunity to serve Adonai directly, he does feel worried about seeing his true self when ascending into a powerful duty. He supposes being an Archangel is too perfect of a role for him to let go of.

"Nah, I don't think I'm that holistic yet," Ominis responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "I still have a lot to do as Adonai's blade."

Just as the conversation resumed its course at the prompt of his response, a pair of cold hands makes its way to his shoulders—the tip of its finger brushing ever so softly against the skin of his neck. Ominis shivers but he does not let it affect him. Although his jaw clenches at the arrival of whoever this is.

"And what of Adonai's blade?" The voice asks, cunning and cool. "Does he perhaps fancy a cup of coffee?"

The arrival alerts the low-ranking figures beside him, pursing their lips in silence as they stare at the figure behind him.

"Leviathan," Ominis announces his presence. The brunette-headed monarch smiles at his true name.

"Mm," The demon hums. He taps his finger against the collar of Ominis's coat. "As much as I like hearing that name off of your lips, I prefer being called Sebastian."

Ah. Yes. This is what Ominis means when he says he's not okay with Demons. When he misses the feeling of his heavenly spear darting through the backs of the fallen.

No offense to Amit. He's too wonderful to be a spawn of a monarch but beings like Sebastian are what he means when he's overcome by a terrible urge to fulfill his original purpose.

He's fought him before. Countless times actually. In the Great Wars of Light and Dark—the famed descent of the Son of Man into the world is tainted with the hands of the fallen. They were carefree and manipulated life freely in their own hands as if it were toys.

Levia–Sebastian, rather, had always been a figure in both the underworld and highgard. A figure of snakes that classified demons as a whole. He was an icon to many and a formidable foe to most. He was surely one of Ominis's favorite things to drive a spear through.

Unfortunately for him, demons never die. They only go back to either hell or earth. A never-ending cycle of death. He supposes this is why the Lord has agreed in a civil approach with the beings of the dark.

"He's surely thinking of ways to murder me, no?" Sebastian sighs dreamily as he sits on the empty chair to his right. Poppy hesitantly laughs while Amit falls silent at his superior. Sebastian then turns to the two.

"Principality," He nods to Poppy, "Comrade" Amit. "If I may, can I please have a few minutes to talk to dearest Ominis? I just have a few things to discuss with him with regards to a war brewing up north in Midgard."

He beams, like the ever-so-manipulative nature of his character. The two sigh, gathering their food before moving to another table, a few meters away from them. It's better to just follow through with a monarch like Sebastian. He somehow has the irritable charm that allows him to get anything that he wants. Ominis is not surprised if he receives another harassment ticket for just existing.

"Was it so important for you to disrupt my leisure time?" Ominis grumbles at him. Sebastian chuckles, placing his elbows on the metal surface of the table. He intertwines his hands and perches his chin on top of it.

"And here I thought you loved that dear little humanity of yours."

"Please," Ominis scoffs, crossing his left knee over his right. He crosses his arms over his chest. "The last thing you'd do is be desperate enough to ask someone like me for help. Disasters are your expertise. What do you want?"

Just like that, Ominis has him cornered. Not that Sebastian would mind that since this is what he originally came for in the first place. Those ruby eyes that seem to never leave the Archangel pairs with a devilish smile before sighing. "Am I ever so deceitful that you think I'm asking for help with a catch?"

"Yes." Ominis answers plainly.

The demon rolls his eyes. "Right sure". There are a few beats of silence before Sebastian speaks once more. "I came here to confirm something with you."

Ominis hums, not bothered to direct his full attention towards Sebastian. He learned enough that wasting his time and attention in believing uncivilized monarchs like Sebastian is just a fiasco waiting to happen. He tries to take some of it in but never really injects full effort to do what they want. After all, his job only entailed in keeping peace and order within the flow of time in the human realm. What demons do is out of the question.

Sebastian hums beside him before speaking. "Do they like tea?"

Ominis stiffens in his seat. "What?"

The demon grins at finally grasping the old man's attention. "I said do they like tea?"

"Who likes what?" The angel is beyond confused. Who?

"Oh come on, Riel," The nickname pops a vein on his forehead. The demon leans close to whisper. "I mean that friend of yours in the gateway."

Ominis finally tenses at the revelation. How the fuck did this guy manage to find out about that?! He subtly turns his face towards the sound of his voice. He doesn't find it in him to reply as the demon prompts a few chuckles from his lips.

"I'm quite excited to be meeting them next time," Sebastian lets out a grunt as he stretches up from his seat and finally stands. He places his hands inside the pockets of his slacks, smiling down at the tense Archangel. "15th of the hour, right?"

"You're insufferable," Ominis grumbles under his breath as the man laughs at his demise.

"You're not the only one interested, Ominis." Sebastian smirks before turning and making way to the exit of the communal room. The clacking of his shoes do not produce the same satisfaction as the seed of Conquest.

He let's out a groan as he indefinitely will have to deal with Sebastian later on. His little interactions with them had been his highlights of the week. Not everyone can have the opportunity to come across a horseman of the apocalypse. Sebastian had to go ruin his little moments of peace.

How can his day get any better?

Ominis is exactly 10 mins earlier than the designated time.

The hallway is deserted and the air conditioning is functioning at its highest. It's safe to say that he's been paranoid ever since Sebastian had made his interest in one of the seeds of chaos. He doesn't know how exactly he knew but he wasn't going to take any chances in allowing him to steal his spot.

Even though the aftermath of 5 lattes a week proves to be quite detrimental to the linings of his stomach.

It's fine. He's immortal anyway.

He swings back and forth on his heels as he waits for the clock to strike the 3rd. He's not sure why he's more nervous today and only hopes that maybe it's because of the damn lemonades Amit brought this morning because her mother had made too much. Bless her soul.

He sees the shorthand of his watch finally strike the 15th hour of the day before he hears the same click-clacking of heels against the tile floor. At the prompt of their arrival, he immediately brings out a couple of his spare coins and begins punching in his latte. He waits, hands tucked in his slacks, at the familiar greeting of their voice.

However, things seems to be way different today.

"Ah, so it's more of your role to be the judge, right?" An all too familiar voice disrupts him off his reprieve. He tenses at the added presence. "Where to place the souls and all that."

"Yes," Conquest hums, a bit detached but their interest in the conversation is there. "I allow passage based on their time of living. The same goes for my siblings."

Ominis's jaw clenches as he hears the fake facade of gasps of interests and the unrhythmic pattern of another's footsteps. Sebastian.

"That's so interesting-!"

"What are you doing here, Sebastian?" Ominis grits under his breath as the pair finally reach his vicinity. Sebastian smirks at the presence of the Archangel.

"Ah, I just passed by Midpath to pass some documents and caught Y/N over here walking towards the gateway," Sebastian coolly responds as he glances at them with a smile. "It's not every day you'd get to talk to a seed outside of their workspace. Your department is the busiest after all."

If he hated Sebastian before, he hates him even more now.

"Ah yes, Leviathan was kind enough to keep me company," Conquest responds. If they were both alone right now, he would've collapsed. This is the most he's talked to them and he can't even handle it on his own. What a joke.

"Please! Just Sebastian is fine," The demon chimes in with a gleeful tone. "Are you well acquainted with Gabriel?"

Ominis is not sure what Sebastian is planning but the demon sure as hell is enjoying this little charade.

"Mhm," Ominis answers for them. "W-We always get coffee here."

"Ah," Sebastian nods. "How adorable. Must be honorable for you, hm? Keeping this little interaction for yourself."

There's something in his tone that seethes at him—buried under layers and layers of fake smiles and enthusiasm. Ominis wants to strangle him but he has to keep up with the expression. After all, despite ruining his moment, this is the most he's spoke to Y/N—he can call them Y/N right?

"Right," Sebastian seems to have read his thoughts. "This is Y/N. Have I mentioned that?"

"Clearly," Ominis grits his teeth. The seed of conquest, ignorant of the tension between two side steps to reach the vending machine. They notice the finished latte siting lonely, perched on top of its container.

"Ominis." They call for his attention. The blonde's breath shifts. Oh Heavens, they said my name. He knows he shouldn't panic or else that would look weird and so he awkwardly turns towards her with a tense look on his face.

Y/N only stares at him with vague interest before grabbing his hand and gently placing the cup of coffee in his grasp. "Your latte," They say.

"T-Thank you." He speaks as if that's the first time he's ever held hands with a handsome person. Y/N then turns to punch in their order, opting for a hot option instead of their usual cold beverage.

Without speaking the duo watch as they tilt their head back with mild interest, waiting for their coffee, hears the familiar ding of the machine, grab their order—gives not one of them a glance and only makes way back to their department.

There's a few beats of silence—the only background noise being the whirling of the air conditioner from the vents. They're both oddly entranced by what just happened.

Sebastian shifts in his position as he turns slowly towards Ominis with a slightly curled up smile.

"Is it normal to be this turned on?"

"You're fucking weird."

Ominis doesn't know what's happening.

There's this weird competitive aura between him and Sebastian ever since that altercation last week and it's as if who can interact the most with Y/N had been set as a competition between the two of them.

He's not really the one to complain since his pride enjoyed the stakes of a competition. However, his dignity has doubled down and screeched and clawed at his mind—begging for this to be done and over with.

He admits. He might have been a little too interested in the seed of conquest but that's what he wanted it to stay as! It was already good enough for him that he was able to interact with them on a weekly basis but now, he's not so sure if he can back out of this one.

Sebastian had been a bit too overwhelming in his efforts to gain their attention. From Underworld cuisine to Highgard flowers and even Midgardian music. He's done it all. The bastard is a monarch after all and so his pay is a little bit higher than his but who cares about that?! Ominis thinks he's utterly unfair in trying to squeeze his way through his and Y/N's leisure time of getting coffee.

He too... has tried several ways to... Y'know. To just keep with the nature of competition. He comes out of his breaks a little early so he can actually try and catch up with them for a walk. Made them sweets here and there. Made sure he was done with his work so he can assist in helping out with Y/N's paperwork. If it's not much obvious—Yes, Ominis is very competitive.

The unspoken attention war had stretched out over the course of the next few weeks. A few co-workers had begun to notice Ominis and Sebastian's odd behavior. It was odd enough that a monarch is lounging in Highgard departments but no one really gave a fuck enough to care.

(Unless it's Imelda, Poppy, and Amit.

"Is the coffee in the gateway really that great? Or do they just have a fucked up death wish of a diarrhea for ordering at least 10 cups of coffee a week?" Imelda grumbles from her spot at one of the tables in the communal room as the three had full-on front seats to Ominis and Sebastian pushing each other and racing for the double doors.

Poppy sighs beside her. The Principality had also noticed the suspiciously efficient work of Ominis. While the Archangel was organized and efficient enough to accomplish his work on time, the speed of doing such works even if it was weeks away on the assigned deadline was far too suspicious.

"They say they're pining over a married Dominions officer," Amit chimes in from his eating galore of glazed donuts. Imelda glances at her co-worker with a crunch of her nose.

"If you were human, that would've already killed you."

"I could possess one if you want?" Amit jokes to which the two angels snap their heads to glare at him. "Right, my bad.")

"They like tulips more than whatever that is." Sebastian grumbles as he assesses the disarray of sunflowers, roses, and whatever Ominis picked up from Midgard. The blonde rolls his eyes at his quips.

"As if giving them tea was enough," Ominis seethes. "I'd have you know that they actually dislikes tea—especially chamomile."

"You sure do know everything, huh?" Sebastian retorts as he takes a step forward. "If I remember correctly, It was because of me that you were given an opportunity to talk to them in the first place."

Ominis scoffs. "Oh, get off your high horse. I would've talked to them either way!"

"You'd take millennia to even do that," Sebastian chuckles, tone mocking and sarcastic.

"Says who?"

"Says me," Sebastian raises his eyebrows, taunting him. "You couldn't even put a spear through my heart if it hit you right in the face."

Ominis tenses. "What nonsense—!"

"Blah blah!" Sebastian taunts like a child. If anyone were to see both of them, they would surely have a field day in the office. A monarch and an Archangel fighting over someone. What a gossip. "I know you always miss the shot. Always a centimeter off, an inch short, a few limbs past—You're too soft. Even for someone like me."

Ominis breath hitches at the revelation. It's true that among all the Archangels, He was considered to be the most accurate out of all of them. That's why he preferred long-range fights, hitting enemies with his spear through a distance. But Sebastian is Ominis's first short-range duel and he's always been meant to fight Ominis after that. Somehow, he always manages to fail killing him, allowing a millennia's worth of suffering because of it.

His brothers would give him comfort and reassurance that someday, he'd be able to strike him off. However, despite countless opportunities, he's managed to fail every single one. He doesn't have the heart in him to admit that he's purposely missing the target because who would believe an Angel having mercy over a fallen?

He has too much pride to admit that.

Somehow over the long silence emitted from Ominis's lack of response, a cough alerts them of a new presence. The two turn around to meet Y/N, standing ever so casually behind them.

"Are you two done?" Y/N tilts their head, eyes half-lidded and a cigarette hanging off their lips. They take a short and swift inhale before pulling the stick from their lips and blowing it towards the two.

The smoke causes them to flinch back and cough. The seed of Conquest takes this opportunity to breeze through and punch in their order from the vending machine.

"Y'know, for a couple of idiots, you two sure are dense as hell," Y/N chuckles as they tilt their head to the side—glancing at them with a smile. They extend their hand holding the cigarette, tapping it towards the trash can situated near the machine. They eye him with vague interest. "A millennia. A fucking millennia—Not even one but a couple actually—" Y/N takes a hit of the cigarette. "That's amazing."

The seed of Conquest blows another whiff of the stick and this time, the duo are prepared at the scent of the chemicals.

"I-I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" Ominis asks, pressing his need for clarification. Sebastian remains silent beside him.

Y/N grins underneath the fingers that snugly carry the stick between their lips. "You two."

"Us?" Sebastian raises an eyebrow.

"You seriously never thought about this? Y/N raises an amused eyebrow. The silence after confirms their thought which prompts a gleeful giggle from their lips.

Sebastian and Ominis take a pause to revel in the beauty of their laughter.

The seed of conquest then takes a step forth and gingerly presses an index finger against Sebastian's chest, "You keep finding him," Then Ominis, "You keep avoiding the inevitable," They then take a step back, taking a whiff of the cigarette before exhaling. "Doesn't it ring a bell, hm?"

It takes at least 25 seconds for the two to come to a realization. Both take it quite differently. Ominis pales while Sebastian flushes. Y/N thinks the colors contrast quite beautifully.

"How adorable," They coo before the machine finally beeps. They take their coffee with ease and take a few steps towards the two fumbling idiots. They lean close, whispering into their ears in the space between them. "Next time you two try and disrupt my work hours, I'll have you know that I can purposefully trap you in a never-ending time loop of a prison. Got that?"

The two nod carefully at their words before Y/N smiles and pats their shoulders. They make quick steps back towards their department before suddenly pausing and turning quickly with a smile.

"Also, you're both wrong," Y/N sighs as they tuck their hands inside the pockets of their coat. "I prefer Baby's-breath and milktea is my preferred choice of drink. 50% sugar with boba."

The two gape at her information. They tilt their head with a smirk, strands of hair falling ever so perfectly against their face.

"Do it right and maybe I'll agree to be taken by the two of you on a date."

And just as she says it, she leaves with the elegance and swiftness of a heavenly figure. The two couldn't even sneak a word in with what just happened, only grasping their gifts apologetically within their hands. In just a matter of a few minutes, Y/N has yet again made them speechless.

Not that the two of them would complain. There's just something about them that just leaves a breath of awe whenever Ominis and Sebastian get a chance to interact with the seed of Conquest.

Sebastian turns toward the Ominis who licks his lips in thought. "They did just say both right?"'

"Yes, Sebastian. They did."

"Are you in love with me?"

"I—"

"I think I'm in love with you," Sebastian hums, thoughtfully as if he's taking a pick which menu he'll be eating for lunch today. "I think maybe I am."

It's times like this that Ominis thinks that demons are insufferable. But then that's their charm, no? Having the ability to continuously infuriate you despite the circumstance. Ominis thinks that maybe he can try to live with that. After all, a couple of millennia with Sebastian had already been proven to be quite a taxing experience—what more a couple more years could do?

If Ominis could answer the questions of the lost souls that venture their interests in the realms beyond them, there's one thing he could definitely answer.

That demons are pricks and also can be the love of your life (you just maybe haven't noticed it yet because you're too busy driving a spear through his heart!), there's a hot overseer he can't stop thinking of, and that angels can also have gay panics.

How livid would humans be when they find out about this?

Well, I guess we'll never know.

A/N: yieeee im 20 now!! HBD TO ME!! (my bday was on the 4th, I was just too busy to post this) I hope y'all enjoyed this! Will consider doing a part two for this baby (NSFW if it has good views teehee) lmk!! love y'all!

[citruslullabies]

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic

Requested by: no one!! Just a fun lil thing

Category: heavy fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): prewar!Cooper Howard x female!reader

Word count: 1000

He's a Doll

The apartment had been so quiet, so calm and peaceful. It was almost suspicious just how calm it had been.

It was a nice saturday evening and you were home alone while your spouse was out doing odd jobs, sipping on a cup of tea while reading an article about the war. It was always a topic your partner avoided but you found it interesting, always keeping up to date on the new information coming out.

Cooper Howard, while at one point a well known and beloved actor, had fallen back into the bottom after his divorce with Barbara. A woman you had never met - nor cared to. You honestly were about to give up on the dating game since you were getting older, and age certainly wasn't kind to anyone. You were a 36 year old woman who already had bad back problems and creaky knees, who would want that??

But he did. You both had met when out grocery shopping, with you trying to reach something on the second to highest shelf and trying to regrettably monkey climb and remembering your age in the process.. when all the sudden hearing a chuckle from behind you. And there he was, a very exhausted looking Cooper Howard chuckling at your dispense before helping you out.

The both of you had met when his divorce was still being finalized and custody as well, it seemed like everything was going south for Coop until he fortunately went down the right aisle at the right time. He couldn't even remember how it happened, meeting and then talking and it somehow took off from there. You'd be lying if you said you understood how it happened either.

The radio was playing in the background of the calm little apartment, legs tucked into your side as the hot cup pressed against your lips and a soothing sweet liquid spilled down your throat. With a smile, you continued to read while humming along to the radio station.

“Everyone tells me he's no good

He doesn't love me like he should

I would forget him if I only could

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll”

The lyrics rung out of the little box, causing you to hum along to the beat and drift off into your own little world inside of your head. The song oddly enough reminded you of Cooper, well, besides the whole cheating aspect.. the lyrics were so sweet and reminded you of the sweet devil you fell in love with.

“That man can look me in the eye

And tell the biggest, sweetest lie

And I forget the lipstick on his tie

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll

Sometimes I make up my mind

That I'll stop being so blind

And tell him off real bad

But then he turns on those charms, and there I am in his arms

And I forget why I'm mad”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued to listen, while the song wasn't necessarily about a good relationship it reminded you of yours in a good way. You and Cooper have fought, but he always somehow manages to calm you down before you blow your top off.

The door opened and Cooper was greeted with the sound of music and your humming, which was a pleasant surprise. He closed the door behind him and put his keys up, looking at you in the living room completely off into your own world.. a devious idea sparks in his head.

Quietly, he walked up behind the couch and leaned over just enough to be hovering. He stopped and admired you for a few moments.. the way you seemed so relaxed and at peace, despite that god forsaken news report on the nuclear fallout and war being in your hands. He chuckled quietly and then grabbed your shoulders abruptly earning a startled yelp and a quick swat to the arm.

“No need to get your panties in a twist darlin, ‘m sorry.” The southern cowboy said with a laugh as he saw your irritated gaze, his pearly whites on full display as his eyes were crinkled up. Oh you couldn't stay mad at him no matter how hard you tried.

Your gaze softened in almost an instant when seeing how joyous his face appeared, rolling your eyes playfully as you folded up the newspaper and tucked it into your arm. He smiled when he felt a delicate hand on his cheek from the one he adored, chuckling and placing his larger and rougher head atop your smaller and softer hand. Your hands had callouses, but they were like buttermilk compared to his sandpapered skin. He leaned down and captured your lips with his own, hands sliding down to your hip dips and squeezing softly.

With a content hum, he snaked one hand over to that pesky paper you had rolled up and took it away from you while you were distracted. He was glad to see you after a long day of work, your lips tasting like sweet sun tea with a bit too much sugar but he still accepted the flavor on his tongue happily since it was you. You pulled away and smiled at him, before pressing your cheek against the cushion.

“Well, I'll just accept it as a heads-up that you're sleeping on the couch tonight.” You chuckled as he gave you a fake offended look. He nuzzled his nose against yours with a chuckle, before pouting. “Oh sugar cube, you're so cruel to a poor cowboy down on his luck.”

You both stayed like that for a while, just adoring each other with playful jabs.. the music continuing to be sweet as it filled the room and danced around the both of you.

“He's a palooka, he's a brute

He drives me crazy but he's cute

Why do I love a guy I ought to shoot?

He is a demon, he is a devil, he is a doll~”

Thank you for reading!

Oh my god this is so old, I might rewrite it - I just realized I never posted it!!

[slay00ryu]

could you explain how to write the kc li's? am having trouble writing ronin and such, and you are one of my friends so am requesting your help - ronins pretty princess

N "explaining" how they write the love interests :D

So for starters, I will do it in a form of small notes? I'm not that good at explaining and I will maybe try to show some examples. I had a hard time too so I can understand why it can be hard.

Also there's not really a one correct way to write them, you can always take artistic liberties so I will focus more on giving their personalities based on what we see in the game.

Spoilers for Killer Chat!

Ronin - The Devil's Butcher

Oh, Ronin, Ronin, Ronin.

He is actually the easiest one to write, for me at least.

Ronin has a strong sarcastic personality, he speaks in riddles and wants to fuck with the player's mind.

He's main goal when he's the person who you're trying to woo in the game is to corrupt you, so it's adviced to make the reader be in the middle of said corruption or be corrupted, when you're kissing him in his ending the reader is already corrupted enough to love him: "Oh, I love it when you're rotten and mine [...]" he tells you that you are his fallen angel so to speak.

Ronin hates monotony and boredom, so the reader has to be interesting for him, or he will get bored and either leave or kill them.

Oh yeah, killing the reader. Ronin sees us taking his life, or him taking ours as the most romantic thing ever. So would he see us murdering for him, we're killers, our hands are stained with blood and that's all for him. Isn't this romantic?

Ronin is possessive in a way, he won't show jealousy, he's ruined you why would you try to leave him for someone else? You're his, you and he are well aware of it. But it doesn't change the fact that he would mark you and keep you on your toes just to make sure that you wouldn't think about leaving him.

Our man is touch starved, maybe he won't cuddle with you for two hour straight, but he will poke you to annoy you, play with your hair, wrap an arm around your shoulders etc. Small touched are also a form of physical touch.

Of course, not everything has to be happy, Ronin also might experience dark times. Gender dysphoria might get its way into his head. He may think of Ther and be a little bit in despair because of it, but don't fret, you don't have to put that in EVERY fanfic.

Ronin as we all know loves to bastardise Shakespeare, or sometimes drop a line from the Bible for shits and giggles.

His brand is being the Devil so the reader could stroke his ego by calling him the Devil in some ways.

Ronin wouldn't want the reader to be completely obsessed with him, to the extend when they breathe and live for him. With no personality or interests. Not only would they be just plainly boring, he would probably be annoyed with and feel perhaps guilty for making them into this mess.

If the MC dies or breaks up with Ronin in bad blood, he would be in despair, maybe there wouldn't be any tears, but it would show. More murders, getting tense or angry when your name is mentioned etc.

V - The Vigilante

Ah, my favourite batman. Well that's one way to explain V. He is like him, but he actually kills the beasts that stain our world.

He has a strong moral code, of course there are some loose crews like the one time when the player actually told him not go sell Ronin to the police. So with his strong moral code, the reader has to be someone who will not kill people Ronin style, their murders have to be for a reason, or the reader may be someone who doesn't kill people and is "pure" in a sense.

He is a gentleman - the Brit in him i showing lol - so it is a good idea to write him as such. Gentle kisses on the back of readers hand, opening door of them etc.

V is an animal lover, but he would deny that of course, so it would be great if the reader was fond of animals too.

He would be protective of us, make sure to keep us safe from danger and keep a tab on the people who are in our life and seem too suspicious for his liking.

His love language is "acts of service" so maybe getting rid of someone dangerous for you, helping you with hard tasks or chores, he would do anything that would be help of you and wouldn't cross the lines of his morale.

He may appear cold and distant, but you can see his love in a soft and warm gaze, gentle smiles or small touches here and there. He's like a black cat basically.

V is supportive of the reader, with their hobbies or work. He would be ready to listen to the reader's yap about some ideas for a new book they want to write.

Misaki - The Assassin

Misaki, they are a silly goof most of the time. They would definitely use genz and gen alpha terms. Expect them to call the reader "Pookie" or something along the lines as their pet name.

Whenever they come to visit the reader or the reader visits them, they have a small gift prepared - their love language is gifts giving.

They are Asian so the reader shouldn't hate on their parents just because Misaki has to send them money to help them. Asian families are uh more complicated so mingling into that would be seen as crossing a line.

Misaki is anxious, they fear disappointing someone or get extremely stressed with their "jobs" so the reader should support them.

Misaki is open for anything, you want to become a cannibal? "Go for it babe, become the maneater!" They would be so hyper about it or maybe joke if the idea is too unhinged.

They are a very caring person, so if you are troubled they will go out of their way to help you, and be there for you.

It could take a while for them to open up 100%, but after opening themselves about their poor living situation and family issues, it definitely will be easier.

She seems like someone who would send you random memes or pics they took or found and say smh like 'it reminds me of you".

Maria de la Rosa - The Angel

Yes, the maneating perfectionist. She's married to her work, but the reader would be able to help her with this issue, like how they helped her with that motherfu- Finian! Just don't pressure her to change immediately, it takes time.

She loves quality time, it's very important to her. So just watch some movie with her, go on a date and be there with her. And maybe let her snuggle up to you when she needs it.

You have to accept Ronin as your supervisor and biggest enemy at the same time, if you fuck up something with Angel, she would let it slide, but Ronin? Hell no, that's his ex gf and bestie, if you hurt her, he will make sure that Angel get rid of you as a way to heal.

Angel would promote you on her social media, your book or your cafe? She left a honest - usually positive - opinion about it and her fans would just be your biggest donators.

Angel isn't possessive or obsessive, but she can be insecure. Are you okay with dating her when she has such a busy schedule? Are you fine with the paparazzi? Just be there for her and reassure her about everything.

She's the definition of "people pleaser". Her friend has a shitty menager? He's gone. Her fans didn't like her new video? She will never do something like that again, unless you convince her that it's really okay or that she should continue to do what she wants. She's stubborn that's for sure, but hey, small steps are important!

Ofc it's albit more complicated than this, most of the things I write are taken from my interpretation of the game, Rose's tumbrl posts or other fanfics, take inspo if you're unsure of something, or ask others for their opinions. :D

Hope it is helpful in some way T-T

Bye, love ya

-N<3

[nadianova]

How much time do you spend planning some of your visual novels? At least going by some of them being jam submissions, it feels like you go from pre-production to a finished build very quickly, and it's amazing how you can manage that while still having an awesome story and so many assets.

Also, what is like, the process of planning a story out for you, if there's any vague or concrete similarities that you've noticed?

i think the important context here is that if i get bored/have nothing to do i jhust immediately get really suicidal its like ridiculous how bad it gets(ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT IVE HAD 5 YEARS OF THERAPY). so i hate being bored and want to occupy my time wit something fun whatever that is. if i have a project to focus on but especially if I'm working for a game jam i have a deadline and i just decide to myself okay i will release a game now.

because ive made a decent amount of games i roughly have an idea on my capabilities, i can estimate how long it takes for me to write a story so and so long and how long it takes for me to draw stuff i need and how long it takes for me to throw stuff in renpy. these are estimates like as in I'm not accurate with it but still enough that i generally know where to start cutting ideas since the most important part is just having something to submit. i also know to plan around my brain wanting to slam my head into a wall an my hands suddenly giving up on being able to draw.

i think thats the beauty of game jams it forces you to just go for it and release something. releasing a 'bad' game is better than no game at all. experience only comes over time and i think just going for it is the best approach there is. like its literally 2 weeks 1 month whatever of your life. if you have the time and motivation go for it. make it work or fuck it up it wont matter in the grand scheme of things

im not sure what is the motivation behind the question but i do want to point out that this is just my method (if you can even call it a method) and the only way to figure out what works for you is to just try until you find something that actually works for you

idk not everyone will find it doable/fun to plan around spending two weeks gamedev 10 hours a day just cause i wanted to fit in 100 cgs for a jam game but apparently i can do that when i cheat my stupid adhd brain into hyperfocus with adhd meds

READMORE BECAUSE I CANT STOP RAMBLING

as for planning tho i think ideas on their own are worthless and its always about execution in the end. a great idea or a meh idea are the same for me but i do still enjoy the planning process so i keep notes

like i see a great tumblr post or i see some art or visual novel has some scene that inspires me: i save that shit for myself

having a big collection of random floating ideas like that helps me easily pick from especially during a jam type duration. right now i have like 4-5 half-baked project skeletons, some are literally like 3 pictures and some like naomida are a hundred hours worth of me writing world building about how the toilets work in a city with no plumbing cause its -30celcius(i love bringing this up)=

i dont normally plan that much, i tend to just wing it. like for malmaid i seriously just had some rough ideas and just went along as i wrote

same thing for dddeviance i had a handful of scenes that i really wanted to make and knew what kind of start and end it was meant to have and just figured out how to fill the in between. a lot of plot points changed vastly like halfway through i realised my devil + angel combination was stupid and i should just go for fallen angel + angel.

i think there really is no simple answer tho (as evident from the long as hell post) i don't really have a 'process' because every single game has been worked on has come with different type of planning since I'm always trying new stuff to try and distract me from boredom. like I've been using obsidian for naomida while previously I've just used a empty discord serve as my notes app for malmaid and dddeviance

and tbh with naomida I'm running to a new problem where I'm definitely planning too much. like I'm spending too much time fidgeting with details in chapter 4 even when i haven't finished writing chapter 1 just cause its so easy to get in the loop of "oh ill just change this one line" and boom 20 mins spent playing with my notes that didn't really progress my game since by the time i reach this point the whole scene might have shifted to something else

.

but if i had to squeeze an answer itd be something like everything related to my art or writing or games is just like "oooooo that seems fun i should remember this for later" and then i just string 10-100 of those into a story

i tend to write my stories in a format of

character A does this and that

this happens here

puppy play ryona piss orgasm

new day and then this happens here

sad thing happens

more piss orgasm

the end

and just like start filling in more details and working on my story in a nonlinear fashion until i feel like i have a strong enough skeleton that i can start writing my scenes. i hop around a lot, often preferring to write the fun scenes first like ero stuff or the ones I'm the most interested in and then the rest is just filling the blanks and stringing the cool scenes together

[yumekittyships]

♡ an in depth analysis on floch forster's character ♡

{ very tired of people treating floch like a fascist nxzi, so i have decided to write this. please note that i am not agreeing with the things he did. this is an examination and analysis of a fictional, non-existent character. you do not have to agree with me, but please keep any hateful or unkind comments to yourself! }

- First and foremost, I'd like to address how I feel that Floch reached the point of the man he'd become in the events of the final season. I'd like to note that, when the events of the final battle at shiganshina happened, Floch was only 15. In addition, he is the ONLY person from that mission that lived to remember Erwin's final speech. It's also important to note that Erwin is not meant to be a good person. He is written as a man who sends child soldiers to their deaths on suicide missions for "the greater good". This is not an attack on Erwin's character, but I firmly believe that this detail is important in Floch's development.

- Now, I'd like to touch on Erwin's character a bit. Anyone who knows Attack On Titan knows that it is a story that is not meant to paint any one side as good or bad. The moral grounds of any given character are more or less very grey, and open to interpretation by the viewer. Erwin, despite being a commander, is not meant to be a good person. That said, I'm not saying he is meant to be a bad person either. That is entirely up to viewer discretion. What i will state about Erwin are the facts. He has sent hundreds of soldiers on suicide missions, he has used his soldiers as bait, he is 100% the type of man that treats his soldiers as sacrificial lambs for a greater cause. Commander Erwin can be viewed as an island devil with justifiable reason. I believe that this is what Floch saw him as.

- Now, before anyone gets mad and says Floch never thought Erwin was a devil, I encourage you to continue reading and/or give Floch's arc a rewatch. He and his comrades learned of the Marleyans, and learned how lowly they thought of Eldians. He learned that Marleyans viewed Eldians as "filthy island devils". This is where Erwin's influence comes into play. The final battle at shiganshina was a MASSIVE turning point for Floch, because it was likely the single most traumatizing and life changing thing he had ever experienced. He was the singular, sole survivor, having watched every last one of his comrades AND his commander die at the hands of one of the Marleyans. Now I will leave Erwin's speech here for reference.

Everything that you thought had meaning: every hope, dream, or moment of happiness. None of it matters as you lie bleeding out on the battlefield. None of it changes what a speeding rock does to a body, we all die. But does that mean our lives are meaningless? Does that mean that there was no point in our being born? Would you say that of our slain comrades? What about their lives? Were they meaningless?... They were not! Their memory serves as an example to us all! The courageous fallen! The anguished fallen! Their lives have meaning because we the living refuse to forget them! And as we ride to certain death, we trust our successors to do the same for us! Because my soldiers do not buckle or yield when faced with the cruelty of this world! My soldiers push forward! My soldiers scream out! My soldiers RAAAAAGE!

- These final words are something Floch carries with him, and even references later on in the show iirc. Even later during Erwin's memorial service, Floch says something along the lines of "I know I'm just titan fodder, that my life is meaningless,". This shows how much Erwin, and his time as a solider affected him. He has internalized the belief that he is an expendable body in the field, that it is his duty to die for the cause. Floch decides later on that the cause worth dying for is protecting Eldia, at ANY cost. He does not have any regard for the lives that will be lost, because he has been taught and shown that death is inevitable, and has internalized the belief that everyone must sacrifice themselves for the greater good. If not everyone, then at least himself. This is proven by his sheer resilience and the way he fought until the bitter end, even knowing he wouldn't make it out alive.

- Why did Floch choose to become a yeagerist instead of being part of the alliance? That much is simple. We can assume from canon interactions between him and Eren that the two were close when it came down to the final years before the rumbling. Not necessarily close as friends, but as comrades. We can also assume that Eren passed on his beliefs to Floch, that Eldia would fall if it did not defend itself against Marley. I believe it's during this time that Floch decides that, in order to save Eldia, he must become the devil that the Marleyans say he is. This belief is only solidified by looking back at Erwin, and the sacrifices he made, the soldiers he sent to their deaths, all for the sake of Eldia's future.

- Floch grew to be ruthless towards the enemy and anyone who stood in his way, because in his eyes, it was the only way to save Paradis from falling into a sea of blood. He believed that Paradis NEEDED to become the devils they were perceived as, because if they didn't, they would all die. In his eyes, it was either "submit and die, or become the devil and win". He was willing to sacrifice anyone and anything if it meant fighting for his home. While it's not canon that Eren manipulated Floch, it can certainly be perceived that way. Whether Eren manipulated him or not, there is no denying that Floch was heavily influenced by Eren. This was not because of some personal bond or connection, this is because Floch viewed Eren as a savior for Eldia. He believed that Eren's plan to start the rumbling was the only way to save Paradis, even if it meant killing everyone else. Because to him, everyone outside the walls was an enemy. In Floch's eyes, this was a fair sacrifice if it meant a safe and sound future for Eldia.

- Now, once again, I am not telling you that Floch's way of thinking was correct or justified. This is an analysis of how he reached that point, and why he did what he did. I may have missed some things, so if I did, feel free to let me know.