#and Ichor is too on point

[musicismymoirail]

Ngl, I am having a lot of fun just making silly diy jewelry designs for Vendetta. 🥰 Ne makes a lot, especially out of wire. I feel like Themmy just gave nem a spool one day and was like ‘go wild you funky little gremlin’.

God. Vendetta would love the nickname of gremlin so so much too. :’l

[cupcakewebkinz]

You know, I was thinking about an idea I had then realized just how angsty it would be on one side and how much fluff it would be on the other and I'm curious about other people's ideas too ngl

So like, I was toying around with the idea of Shanon coming back to Gardenview and snatching up the loser lesbians and bringing them home with her to save from... Whatever happened. Shanon has no idea, she was never allowed to know, so she just has two VERY traumatized toons now. She'll know how to keep Shelly entertained and happy, she was ALWAYS with Shelly, but I highly doubt she'd know how to keep Vee in check at all.

Vee would probably quickly spiral into a mental crisis about it too, as now everything has been destroyed in her eyes. Nobody remembers her gameshows because they ended years ago, nobody remembers her because Gardenview closed years ago, nobody's interested in learning about her as she's outdated technology to them now. She'd be alone, only able to quiz Shelly now, but she's heard all her questions and knows all the answers by now. She'd probably start self isolating because she just doesn't know what to do with herself, lashing out at Shanon because she genuinely doesn't understand why people aren't fans of her anymore and wants to blame someone except herself. She would be such a wreck and probably have major beef with any new technology Shanon brings home because it replaced her in her mind. Vee is now just... Vee. She's not a celebrity any more, she's not loved by anyone except the toon handler who took her in and her now popular dinosaur girlfriend, and she would not have a clue what to do about it.

Shelly would most likely have the opposite problem, she looks like a living toon just wandering around like she's a common sight to see - of course people would notice! Kids would ask her about fossils and she'd happily tell them all about what she is and their minds would be blown by how much she knows, she'd probably be asked to play by kids who think she looks really neat and be dragged to the sandbox to 'fossil hunt' whenever Shanon takes them to the park. Shanon very much would hide plastic fossils in there too just to see Shelly smile, like she used to before her museum shut down. She'd be such an interesting sight to see that she'd get stared at, often asked what she actually is, and probably would be the talk of the town for a while. Eventually everyone would know that Shelly is just there to have fun, don't bother her too much, but at first everyone would be so shocked by a living breathing toon they'd swarm the poor thing! I'm sure Shelly would be just a little irritated by the constant unwarranted attention and stares, but so happy she's no longer forgotten.

Their roles would reverse is what I'm getting at here. It gives so much Vee angst to work with and Shelly comfort... I am brainrotting over this idea if that's not obvious

[the-meme-monarch]

I was having so much fun working on this animatic drawing delilah keen of dandy's world over and over that I forgot the animatic is actually about astro and dandy's horribly strained relationship. and that it's past midnight but that's besides the point

[shiny-heart-tree]

Wanted to draw a gal that is a...unique Twisted relating to someone, let's just say.

I'll explain her and what the deal with the shape pattern on her arm is when I finally make a ref for one of the OI ocs that I doodled at some point.

[ukusreticence]

me coming up with way too many parallels between side a and side b because i want to have my two funny unique OCs existing and draw them and develop lore on them but because they have the same name as archangels it wouldn't make sense for them to exist in the same universe so instead i just made them the same person in two different universes and started forcing my brain to come up with more and more ways to link these basically two very different characters

bonus:

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys you don't understand how much I love these two. (Oh yeah, and Finn's there too)

Glisten: Awww~ Shrimpo, you remembered Shrimpo: B*tch I'm in LOVE with you, of course I REMEMBERED! Glisten: What!? Wait really?? This is very sudden wow! (You said you were straight?) Shrimpo: AAAAAAAAAA

Finn: (yapping) Shrimpo and Glisten: SHUT THE F*CK UP, FINN!! Shrimpo and Glisten: ... Shrimpo and Glisten: (kissing)

The first comic takes place before the two started dating. Shrimpo is really really really bad at expressing emotions other than anger and frustration, so anytime he tries to express anything, he just blurts out his feelings without thinking. Then he gets second-hand embarrassment lol. Glisten was pretty aware that Shrimpo liked him before, but he's pretending to be surprised to make Shrimpo "feel better" (also to mildly embarrass him lol).

Also, I think that Shrimpo and Glisten bonding over hating Finn is very based and true. They need that autistic man to SHUT UP/silly

I think Shrimpo and Finn are very cousin coded. Not close enough to be siblings but definitely got some familial genes going on imo (plz don't shoot me Shrimpbowl shippers🙏🙏🙏) Doesn't stop Shrimpo from being violent towards Finn tho, and Finn does nothing to deter it lol (he finds it funny). Also, Glisten throws no punches bc he doesn't want to get his hands dirty.

Finn: Sooooo?? How was the daaaate~ Finn: No need to be such a clam about it! Shrimpo: I'M SO KILLING YOU!

The second image takes place the day after this post lol. Shrimpo is recovering from a hangover covered in lipstick kisses and super conflicting emotions and Finn is NOT helping.

On the other end, I've been thinking about Shimmer a lot lol. So here is a doodle of her with her "sister aunt" Toodles, and Pebbles.

They all get along super well. In this pic, Toodles is like 12ish and Shimmer is 4 (but her weird biology made her age up to like 7 here). Pebble is pebble, that's all you need to know.

Also, I was in a horror-ish mood earlier so here are some Twisteds <33 (below cut cuz kinda scary):

I love you angst comfort. My sib pointed out while playing one day that Shrimpo looked traumatized as a Twisted, which like, fair, but it make me think.

Glisten: "They say you are not here anymore. But I think you are."

I had this silly idea that Twisted Shrimpo was infected by Dandy personally, and that whole conflict got Shrimpo's lower jaw ripped off. He is very violent and volatile, and very hard to calm down. But, when he runs into a twisting Glisten alone and scared, he comforts him (to the best of his ability).

Since Glisten is still able to be somewhat conscious, he realizes that the Twisteds are actually not completely gone like he originally thought, and it helps him keep his sanity longer, hoping for a way out for everyone.

Willpower is a crazy thing.

On the complete opposite note, I love you horrifying freak of ichor child.

Since Shimmer was made from the ichor itself with no sort of skeleton or solid foundation, her condition is very unstable. And the problem is that her body is affected by her emotions. On a bad day, she can suffer from lots of pain and her body literally melting away. That's when she hides out and waits for her body to stabilize again.

When she completely twists, her body completely falls apart, becoming a puddle of ichor on the ground. If she was an encounterable twisted, she would work like Sprout's puddle root things, but easier to maneuver around and avoid. Also, her antenna glow.

Mini yap session aside, I think I cooked on the art lol.

Anyways, the og images lol:

Have a good one pookies!

[fanaroff]

Kind of continuation to this comic.

The first thing he opens his eyes to—

———

“Narinder?”

Too loud. Too bright. Too much. Even through closed eyelids and flattened ears. His head pounded behind his eyes. A rhythmic thumping so loud in his ears. A noise he was so unused to. A mortal sound.

Pain was a blinding experience when one was no longer numb to it. The One Who Waits could only huddle in one spot and cling to his own shoulders with claws he couldn’t not yet control enough to retract. He knew where he sat, but he was not going to allow the recognition to settle.

Hurt lanced across his chest, his wrists. He wanted it to stop. This was not how things were supposed to go. He’d planned for so long. How could this have happened?

Narinder chose wrong. He chose wrong. He chose the wrong vessel. His vessel who built him up, built a Temple in his name, raised devotion! His vessel who then tore him down and reduced him to this quivering mess of a new mortal.

How he wished they’d chosen to kill him instead. To have ended his millennia of suffering, not extend it further.

He chose wrong.

The physical hurt now ran in tandem with the emotional. How could they do this to him? When he saw them choose… he thought that maybe things would go right. He would be free and his vessel tucked safely in their own little heaven… but he saw them return the Red Crown to their own head. That damned Lamb!

The one he gave life to! The one he saved!

Betrayed by one he trusted so—

Now he was here. Now he was mortal. How foolish of him.

“…Narinder?” Faust’s voice was gentle, no doubt a front put on for the followers (they should be HIS) that he could hear hanging about in curiosity. (Insects to be squashed! How dare they look upon his visage and see him in this form!)

Narinder knew that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see nothing but hatred in theirs. After all, he ordered his vessel to sacrifice themself. And after all, this was not something his vessel was willing to do. Would such an ask not generate hatred in one unwilling?

Either way, the refusal… the betrayal… has generated hatred within Narinder and when he returned to strength… he would make them pay.

There was no point in putting things off.

Narinder cracked open an eye, blinking rapidly against the blinding light, prepared to see the Lamb standing before him with a weapon in hand. (They’d be foolish not to, what if he chose to attack?)

Instead, the Lamb kneeled before him (why kneel now and not then?), a bowl of water in hand and fake concern across their face. They were still covered in spots of their blood and Narinder’s ichor from their battle, fleece torn in places and wool sticking up in different directions. Yet, they were the victor and looked it. Narinder had no doubt that he looked worse.

He felt worse.

Light from the setting sun lit against Faust, brightening them in almost a halo. It would be beautiful sight… if not for the knowledge he had.

“Betrayer.” Narinder rasped. It came out wrong. He wanted it to be a hiss. A snarl. But it was a wheeze of air at best. His throat hated it. He hated it.

Faust had the gall to shake their head. They opened their mouth to speak, but Narinder beat them to it.

“Betrayer. I never should have chose you. A lamb that defiled my name. My Temple for their own!” He slowly devolved into a rant. A proper tantrum for the ages. Spitting insults that brought gasps of shock from those around them, a few being hands to weapons (garden tools at best), and yet Faust did not react.

If he had taken a moment, he would have noticed their eyes darken to sadness and a frown overtaking their features. He would have noticed the hurt. The Crown trying to get his attention that he had chosen the wrong subject for his ire. But he was understandably focused on his own.

“I wish not to see you! I wish not to be here! Kill me, Usurper! End the suffering you drag out further!” Narinder’s voice had torn by the end, quieted by the force he attempted to put behind it and sounding as if he’d been exposed to the smoke of fires for hours.

He’d begged at the end. Begged to be killed and put out of his misery. And again the Lamb ignored this.

When Narinder was done, panting harshly and lying against the ground as his body turned tired, Faust stood from their kneel and turned to a she-rabbit. They placed the bowl of water in her hands.

“Take him to a tent. I feel he would be calmer if I were not in his line of sight. Have someone come to me if he attempts to attack anyone. Make sure he drinks. Make sure he eats. Force him to if you have to, but be careful. He has not eaten in a long while.”

The she-rabbit bowed her head as Faust turned without a second look to Narinder and strode towards the Temple. His temple no longer.

Narinder could only squirm and attempt at clawing, glaring at Faust’s back as he was dragged away with the help of two other followers. Kicking and screeching, he vowed to himself that the Lamb would pay for this.

They all would pay.

— —

Quick Oneshot that may not stay canonical, or it may stay as a companion piece. The image will stay canonical as the first thing Narinder sees upon his indoctrination. For now, it’s a prompt for myself.

I plan to do the main fic series from Faust’s POV, but I wanted to play around with some of Narinder’s thoughts. I don’t know if it worked though, I have a hard time thinking how someone might react in hatred so I hope I got it close enough.

Hope you like it!

[razztazzel]

Dandys

SOOO… I’m now realizing I’ve never told anyone about this au!! I don’t even know if you guys know this is an au… LORE DROP!!! I usually call this au the marketable plushie au since it doesn’t have an exact name, but it’s still “Dandy’s World” regardless

So Basically, The main toons look differently than their canon looks which are kid friendly for marketing and TV shows, The handlers sometimes make the Original variant mains watch the smaller toons, Marketable dandy gets to run the shop with the Original (to the au) dandy but he’s too small to fit over the counter… hehe he’s so cute, anyway there’s no scary stuff no ichor problems no dandy fucking everything up and killing everyone, so to cut it short the ichor operation hasn’t happened yet

Dandy’s actually really strict with them, He wears gloves not only because he’s a gardener but because his claws are actually really sharp and he doesn’t want to hurt someone, And because every time he takes his gloves off toons are quick to ask omg do you paint ur nails… besides the point He’s keeping the little ones safe, Isn’t that cute!!! his gloves are like those thick rubber ones so he can’t accidentally break them.. I imagine the marketable toons are somewhere around 3 feet and the The original variants about 5 feet or a tad taller than that, like Astro and sprout is, For specific’s Astro is 5’6 and sprout is 5’4

So they’re not technically taller than grown adults but most likely taller than some short ones that’s for sure.. Their heights are lowkey the reasons why the marketable plush toons were made, And because sprout is too sarcastic for his own good…And they can’t even do anything about it because he purposely taught marketable sprout how to be just as sarcastic

The marketable variants are like the exact same as they are in the game! — And the mains are the only ones with an original variant, everyone else without the main rarity, besides dandy look the exact same as if they do canonically!

I draw this au ALLLLLLLL the time :3 I even drew an updated version of their older redesigns, though I’m too lazy to color it meeehhhhh, some changed a lot, some changed a little, and some didn’t change at all

[undyingdecay]

ik damn well that bob would lose it if he went to nurse and found that his sweetheart actually produced milk for him - you can end up lactating just from consistent breast stimulation alone and he clearly has made a routine of it. He wouldn't know what to do with himself, poor guy

oh, he like actually loses it.

the first time it happens, you’re both in the usual position—your back half-curled against his chest, the morning light slicing lazily through the blinds, his mouth hot and reverent over your breast like it’s the only prayer he knows how to recite. there’s alwys a rhythm to him. suckle, breathe, moan, repeat. but this time—

this time, you feel a warm trickle. sticky. wet. a strange pressure releases with a faint squirt, and bob’s throat works around it with a startled grunt. he stills. both of you do.

your eyes widen. “wait—” you try to sit up, scrambling to process it, to look down, but bob’s arm snakes around your waist with strength you’v never felt from him before—more sentry than man—and he hauls you back down into the mattress like you’re his sun-warmed anchor.

“don’t go,” he rasps, already descending again. “don’t—please. it’s real, i didn’t make it up—oh god, it’s real.”

and then he’s latched again—louder now, messier. greedy. your breast is being suckled with a pressure that’s bordering on frantic, his lips slippery with fresh milk that leaks faster the more he draws. he’s moaning into your skin, and when he pulls off to gasp for air, there’s a dribble down his chin and he’s sniffling through it, crying.

“thank you. thank you—so much,” he hiccups, milk bubbling on his lips. his nose is pink and leaking like he’s caught in the middle of some personal spiritual awakening. “you’re giving it to me. you made this—for me?” his voice breaks, a thick sound that vibrates against your sternum. “i didn’t think i’d ever—i didn’t think anybody ever would…”

he drinks so fast he chokes, jerking off with a wet cough, milk splattering across his chin and your chest. he gasps through the hiccups, refusing to stop, like he’s afraid it might go away if he pauses.

he won’t let you out of bed that morning. not even for water. he holds you pinned beneath him, body curled like a worshipper at some living altar, lips pressed to your leaking breast, occasionally switching sides to nurse the other, milk collecting in the corners of his mouth. at one point, delirious and trembling, he sobs while drinking—full-body shakes as he tries to mutter out “i love you” between swallows, voice so thick with milk it’s barely a sound.

you’d think it might taper off. that it’d be a one-time thing. (a lie, denial is the first stage after all)

but not even a week later, he shows up with a breast pump in a glossy cardboard box. still shrink-wrapped. his ears are red.

“i thought it might help,” he says, too quickly. “you said your chest hurt yesterday. that it was too full.” he doesn’t meet your eyes when he adds, “i looked it up. you can save it in bags. we can refrigerate it. maybe freeze some. i’ll get a cooler. i can label them—dates, quantities. i’ll drink it all. promise.”

you don’t even get a word in before he’s pushing you down onto the couch, straddling your hips with reverent weight, hands already working over your sore breasts. his thumbs are warm, callused, and the way he massages you feels like he’s trying to coax divinity from your skin.

he moans low when the milk starts leaking, even before the pump is clipped on. “god, it’s already coming. you’re so full for me. fuck, i can see it.” the letdown is messy, splattering over his fingers. he smears it across your nipple with a thumb, staring like it’s some kind of divine ichor. “it’s beautiful, you don’t even know.”

he kisses you between every pump whirr, but never stops watching your chest. when the bags begin to fill with cloudy white, he exhales like he’s watching a miracle.

by the end of the week, he’s built a little stash in the fridge. carefully labeled freezer bags, double-sealed and dated in his loopy handwriting. he’s so serious about it, you catch him checking the temperature twice a day. once, you find him with the fridge door open just staring at them, one hand flat against the crisper drawer like he’s in church.

and then there’s the doctor visit.

you try to be vague. you try. you mention something about induced lactation. about hormonal fluctuation and stimulation. you don’t even bring up the words milk stash or nipple worship, but your doctor’s eyes narrow like she knows.

“have you had a baby recently?” she asks, confused.

you shake your head.

she glances down at the chart. then up at you. then down again. she clears her throat.

“well,” she says tightly. “that… can happen. in rare cases. with persistent… stimulation.” a beat. “be mindful of mastitis.”

meanwhile bob’s in the waiting room, probably scrolling through reviews for breastmilk storage kits and wondering if he can find tiny glass jars instead—“so it feels more special.”

he’s gone full collector. archivist of your milk. he drinks some every day and stores the rest with obsessive care, quietly losing his mind in the most sincere, devotional way possible.

you swear he gets glowy after drinking it.

and the worst part?

you don't think you mind it.

(me next bob!!!)

[existence-is-a-pain87]

A quick drabble as I try to escape the Writers Block I was trapped in:

They Hear You

Yandere!Self-Aware!Dandy's World x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, swearing

--☆☆☆☆☆--

They weren't entire sure when the first heard you. Nor were they sure why you were the first one they heard.

At that point, they had all long since become used to 'Players' in the 'game'. Using their bodies and facing against twisteds. Some people played many runs a day. Others used their bodies for 'roleplays'.

They were painfully familiar with all the copies of them that existed. Them being made to say things as their God created more. Tweaked things about them.

They always knew they were never real. But when they heard you?

They felt real.

Oh, so real.

You spoke. Often blabbling to yourself, unaware they could hear.

Even if they didn't remember the day they first heard you, they remember exactly what you said.

"Dang it, everyone's gone... I'm so fucked..."

And all of them heard. Even if many were not on the floor, they all heard.

And then you left. Shortly after dying. But before that,

You kept talking.

Babbling to yourself, asking Finn to leave you alone so you could complete that last machine, and giving up when a blackout occurred.

And when you rejoined the game later?

They heard you again.

--☆☆☆--

Everyone's reactions were different.

Some, like Boxten, were initially skeptical of you. Others, like Rodger, were curious. And even more, like Goob, were excited.

Shrimpo was angry.

How are they able to hear someone now? How dare it be you! HE HATES YOU!! HE HATES THAT HE LOVES HEARING YOU SPEAK, TOO!!

Shelly wondered if you liked her.

But none are as interested in you as Dandy is.

Oh! How she hoped you liked dinosaurs! What's this? You're wearing a dinosaur hoodie for good luck? Wow! You do love dinosaurs! You two would be great friends!

Glisten was surprised when he learnt how much you liked him.

He's your favorite? Well, why wouldn't he be! And look at you constantly trying to stay around his Twisted self. How sweet of you! Don't go leaving him now, though...

What's this about a 'Dandy Run'? Are you trying to ignore him?

He hates it when you don't buy from the shop.

So his stock is bad? He'll improve it! Huh- stop calling him 'Baldicus Baldifer' already!

He's the first Toon that falls in love with you.

The others are quick to follow.

--☆☆☆--

Soon things about your game start to change.

First they're weird, but small. Almost unnoticeable.

Like Twisteds being significantly less aggressive. Targetting anyone else you're playing with, seeming to do anything to avoid damaging whoever you're playing as. And if you do aggro them, they seem to lose aggro almost instantly.

But they do stay close. And never aggro on you when chasing the others.

Once you played Brightney and tried to get the Twisteds to aggro on you instead of anyone else.

It didn't work.

Then the changes get more noticeable.

You mention wanting research for a toon? Suddenly, their Twisted is on the next floor! And the one after that! And they're on there until you're satisfied!

They just want you to be happy.

Do you need a heal? Well, Dandy's shop is now selling both band-aids and medkits! And the next floor has a whole bunch littered about!

They don't want you to go. Go on, speak some more. They love hearing you talk.

You soon started to notice these changes. Often voicing your confusion. Especially when you started to get tons more ichor and research than ever.

Then the incident occured...

--☆☆☆--

It was a day not too different from any other.

But you were complaining about how every attempt at a Dandy Run failed, how you were just desperate to encounter him to complete the unlock requirement for Astro.

And Dandy heard these complaints. And he was annoyed.

Do you hate him? Were you trying to ignore him?

Then he realized it was just your silly little completionist brain.

My, aren't you just a silly thing, dewdrop! Had him worrying there, hehe.

So he decided to solve this little problem for you.

It didn't take long for the entire team you were with to be wiped out on the earlier levels, much to your disappointment. This wasn't even a Dandy Run, just your average Main Hunt.

Just ignore how the Twisteds were all rarer and weirdly aggressive...

And when you remarked about how you were going to die soon, it took everything in Dandy for him not to just jump out and tell you to wait a moment for his surprise.

Then, the elevator opened up to the next floor. And Dandy nearly grinned when the Toon you were playing ceased to move.

The floor was littered in research. Clearly over 100 capsules at least. And roaming past? A Twisted Dandy.

Immediately, he heard you start panicking. Wondering how he spawned despite the fact you were consistently buying things from him.

So you quickly just started collecting research, barely noticing how Twisted Dandy didn't aggro on you. Just roamed nearby. Always staying close.

Then you got confused how this floor had well over 100 capsules of Dandy research. It took one floor for you to have enough research for his trinket.

But this incident weirded you out. You were concerned your game was hacked. You didn't want to get banned.

So you stopped playing.

And they were NOT happy.

Thankfully, they figured out how to reach out to you in other Roblox games.

And Roblox just so happened to have your phone number for voice chat...

--☆☆☆--

The texts seemed to never end.

Questions of why you left. Begging you to return. Offering you anything you want to come back.

You kept blocking the unknown numbers. It didn't stop the texts.

You thought you were hacked.

And you soon decided to reply to one of these texts once to beg them to leave you alone.

Didn't you like my surprise?

You questioned what the surprise was.

Well, you wanted to encounter my Twisted form, yes?

This isn't Dandy.

Who else would he be other than Dandicus Dancifer himself?

You told them to leave you alone.

Come back to the game first and the texts will stop, dewdrop.

Why should you trust him?

Why shouldn't you?

--☆☆☆--

You returned to the game.

You don't know why. You're desperate and rather not change your phone number or Roblox account.

Even though you probably should've just deleted Roblox.

Oh well, you could just do it after this, couldn't you?

You think they'd let you go that easily?

Upon loading up, you spawned in one of the elevators on a private server you never bought.

They love you.

You had your classic Roblox avatar.

They're not losing you.

You began asking questions, demanding answers from the game.

They love you they love you they love you.

You didn't get a response.

Love love love love love love love love love love love.

They were all in awe.

Because, finally, after so long...

They could see you.

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

[frostyresolve]

my muse, my canvas ꒰ ᝬ mydei ⸝⸝ phainon

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

his body speaks of war; the embodiment of calamity, bound to bring strife wherever he goes. this time, the beast within him is tame, eyes locked onto you as the paintbrush dances across his arm and covers the blood-lined ink on his flesh. whenever he’s with you, the hand that holds his spear trades it for the comfort of your palm.

“i think pink looks good on you, MYDEIMOS.” you muse with a small hum, dipping the end of your brush into pots of paint. the colours mix into mesmerising swirls on your palette before they kiss his skin. your brushstrokes are refined and smooth, dancing across his arm. he doesn’t push you away, his eyes fixated on the look of pure focus on your face. the way a stray lock of hair has blows in the wind gently, getting in the way of your vision.

he lets out a grunt of acknowledgement at your comment, his left hand clenching, the metal of his glove clinking softly as he restrains himself from touching you.

the paint is cool on his body, quelling the flame that burns in the crevice of his chest into a crackle. he merely grunts his striking amber eyes like sharp crystal softening for just a moment. if not for the point on his back that would leave him vulnerable, you’d be his only weakness.

“there, how’s that?” you purse your lips, humming in satisfaction as your eyes rove his arm to admire your handiwork. the light blush of peonies winding across his muscles biceps like a winding river proving to be a good combination against his toned skin. somehow, this fearsome prince has been reduced to something much softer than a warrior, he is your lover.

the edges of his lips quirk slightly in amusement at your expectant expression, your eyes twinkling with hope that MYDEI doesn’t dare diminish. “not bad.” is his reply, his light ‘hmph’ of approval causing you to reveal your smile that outshone the sparkle of ambrosia. “great! now turn around, so i can do your back.”

only to you would the great lion, who reared back his head in a fearsome roar of a battle cry, bow in your presence.

══════════════════

he is many things. a nameless hero, the deliverer, a chrysos heir, your beloved. he fidgets, blue cerulean eyes swimming with fond amusement as you wiggle your paint-caked hands in front of his face. when you said you’d like him to be a part of your next self-proclaimed masterpiece, PHAINON expected to be your muse, not your own personal canvas.

“yellow, you’re a yellow person.” you nod your head firmly; he tries to suppress the swell of emotions in his chest at your words. you probably didn’t realise the depth of your words, the subtle meaning hidden in that comment.

your yellow person, your saviour, your twin flame, your hero, the sun that revolves around your planet.

he shivers, your fingers drawing swirls on his nose, covering every inch of him you could touch with light. they massage his skin, almost as if you were slathering him with ichor before he’d leave for the battlefield. only this time, he doesn’t feel the same sense of duty at the sensation of you painting on his skin, the weight of the world on his shoulders vanishes as your hand traces down his face.

“so focused. i’m honoured to be in the presence of such a dedicated artist. and what’s this particular piece called, exactly?” his words are teasing, light-hearted, and smooth as they roll off his tongue.

“my sunshine, or is that too cliché? i think my hero, is too predictable. how about, my love?”

his composure cracks, bursting out into laughter as you ramble. paint staining you as hands cup your cheeks and tug at clothing without your realisation. a mess of colour and dripping in sunlight, now you’re yellow too, his yellow.

what PHAINON does know is that he’s probably never washing his face again, even if it means being teased by the others over the yellow hearts and swirls decorating his cheeks.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[joffyworld]

Ah yes

The infamous "Cum Tears of Ghibli"

psst ewen's tears look... viscous.. which is mildly unfortunate

I am a smut/pinup artists

One who calls my style "the ghibli tears of cum"

It is only natural it would work the other way around

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

“A Headcannon for the Slayer as his new game comes out.” - Ichor

Summary - “Smut & Normal headcanons for the Scourge of Hell.”

“DOOM: The Dark Ages came out! :D So, these are HeadCannons for Doom Eternal.” - Edit

TW // Smut.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐮𝐲

"The mark of the Doom Slayer was burned upon his crypt, a warning to all of Hell that the terror within must never be freed. There he lies still, and ever more, in silent suffering." - Slayer's Testament

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜/𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜:

Alright, as we all know, he doesn’t really speak. Not even a peep of pain leaving him as he gets wounded from minor or severe injuries. He is like a brick wall, and it’s almost like talking to one too, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening in on you. You are at least humane enough that you just… ramble to him at points whenever he is around, and it rather makes him feel more… included in life than he was.

He was unsure of you at first, like any other soldier or person that has found another survivor of an apocalypse, but he eventually gets used to your presence. Sometimes he even turns a bit, expecting you to be next to him when he was out slashing demons. He gets a bit… saddened each time when he sees you are not there. Though, I believe he would have some voice recording of you in his helmet to put him at ease.

Eventually, he likes to be around you more and more. Always finding himself coming to your house/base and watching you doing something mundane. Something this is something else rather than killing and hacking demons. He… he enjoys the simplicity of life. It’s very much different from his usual order: slash, kill demons, rip and tear until nothing is left, repeat. He likes watching you, and in return? You watch him as well.

Either he follows you around like a big protective puppy or you follow him around like a mewling kitten. This is no in-between. You going out to rob some abandoned joint? He’s coming with you if he is there with you, no matter the time, dusk to dawn. You following him? He grows to enjoy it, but just because he lets you follow him when he’s out slaying doesn’t mean he’ll let you every single time. It’s very possible he will stick you somewhere if you’re adamant enough to follow him. He’ll come back for you, don’t worry.

Big ol protector, is one of the things he’s being great at in a gore-like way. Don’t expect him to be all pristine after tearing all those demons apart either. That is his job, don’t disintegrate it for he is really good at it, and well… I don’t think he would appreciate you bad mouthing him. Despite that, he would protect you to the fullest. Being your leader once he learns of your pathing between abandoned cities and factories, and demons know full well to not get in the way. At least, not without a powerful hoard. (That will still fail, but there are possibilities…)

Speaking of the possibilities, he is brutal when something happens to you. The slayer has lost so much already, he is not going to be kind on whatever hurt you or is perceived a threat by you. It’s x10 worse when he finds you gone and he finds out about it himself. His livid, but again, silently. That is until he gets his hands on the demons or even humans that have captured you or perhaps even killed you. If they have put you 6 feet under, expect the aura of this silent behemoth to go up.

Honestly doesn't like seeing you gone from his sights for too long. It gives him a weird feeling of dread after a while. Sure, he’s focused on his task, but who’s to say that a brain doesn’t multitask? This slayer can think of you all day long, and many days he has. I mean, what if there is a demon hoard around your base/home? Getting through you to get to him? He wouldn’t put it below a demon to do so…

Likes helping you out quite a bit with most of the mundane chores of the world. You going to wash the dishes, including his plate? No, let him do it. You made the food, it’s only right for him to help you clean up. You need to travel to get more supplies? Expect a hefty amount in your pantry/storage the next day, maybe a few hours. He just likes providing like he human again.

He definitely likes to jam out with you. Sharing each others music tastes. He even listening to your music while he fights off demons. Mercilessly tearing down his enemies as a rather cute song plays. The blood of the his opposers staining his armor while he just continues on his way. Somehow even sending you recommendations when he out slaying. You encourage him to focus on his set task and he just sends you another song in response, despite your worry.

Encourages you to defeat your enemies when you to battle together. He helps you to know your weapons, slowly teaching you how to weld what you hold. Doing some combos and tactics: thrust, dodge, slash, thrust. A simple combo, but it sure is amusing to see you trying to use what he’s teaching you of. It never fails to have you a bit… dazed in your training, and perhaps… underneath him.

𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥/𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭:

For those who veiw the Doomslayer in a religious light. I would say he would like wait until you are both married to have sexual intercourse, and at that certain point I believe he would take it slow at first. You are both testing your boundaries. It’s usually not good to rush unless experienced with your partners body. Also, he’s definitely huge and would not like to ruin you the first time. No matter if he had tempting thoughts of you.

Worship can both ways in this one. With him? He likes to caress and massage you. His tongue and teeth gently giving kitten licks and nips to test your skin and nerves before starting the main course. Do it on him? Best believe he would be a bottom for a bit. His hands squeezing your thighs gently while you focus your attention on doing your treatment on his own battle hardened skin. You can hear him sigh out a couple of times to your affections.

In my opinion, I think he would like biting more than praise. He’s more hands on than all talkative, but he won’t object your praise to him if that is your subconscious duty. He will grow to love it. Though, back to biting. He loves to mark his partner. Sinking his teeth into their skin just hard enough to leave a mark, and he absolutely doesn’t mind if you do the same. It will surprise him at first, but he’s not against it with how his member twitches.

Definite size kink. That man is what? 7ft? Almost? Ones has to have a size kink of being such a powerful size. So, with a smaller partner he would absolutely thrive on how tight you feel around him. Your body unable to take any more that what you have already inside of you. Bigger partner? He loves just how much you can take him. To see his cock disappear within you as you take him greedily.

Belly budge kink, if he liked watching himself going inside of you, he’s going to like watching that bit of skin the creates a budge inside of you. Telling him of how much you are taking him, and it’s impressive. His hands usually wandering over that bit of skin and gently thumbing it. Watching you closely as you wither and whine at the sudden touch.

I see him having a lingerie kink. So, it would become a great surprise to him if he sees you in nothing but lingerie. He wouldn’t expect that of you, but he certainly isn’t declining your clear invitation of your body sitting so pretty upon the bed with sighs of his name falling from your lips while you pleasure yourself with your fingers. He is quick to not leave you unsatisfied.

Ough, chastity. This one can last a while as he would not have a high limbo. This can be torture for you and more like a walk in the park for him. So, I would advise you to plan this one carefully. Perhaps even challenge him (and well yourself) that you two can’t fuck each other, but you two can tease one another. It’s mostly you teasing, but once he does it? It’s hard to keep your hands to yourself because he knows you like it when he gets back to you and takes his armor off to show the hidden muscle underneath. Bastard.

You could ask him to be bottom for a night, but he would be a power bottom. His hands grasping at your thighs and thrusting up into you with impeccable timing. Your mind going a bit frazzled at his actions as you thought you were going to have him withering but it seems he keeps you in your place in either position. He also likes it when you look exhausted above him. Your hands splayed out on his chest with your heated breathes coating his skin.

There are times where this man gets needy after having you has a partner. The chastity maybe a hard one to get him on, but it honestly takes a lot of time for him to become needy. He is more of a war machine than a sexual one, so it makes sense he isn’t, but when he is? Expect him to be curled around you with his cock deep inside of you. His own, hot breaths breathing into your ear as he stuffs you slowly with him. Taking you deep and slow, savoring you.

It takes a long time for him to do chastity, needy sex, and so does rough sex. He really isn’t that much keen on that one as he doesn’t like to imagine on hurting his partner, but he does obey your cries for more. For him to go “r-rougher!” And by god does he deliver, drilling into you with huffs and growls. His hands squeezing tightly at your waist just enough to create a bruise later. No doubt leaving you bedridden for the next days to come. You’re lucky however, that he cares for you afterwards with love.

[lxkeee]

END GAME

PART ONE

pairing: lucifer x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

warnings: no warnings yet.

notes: very feral for this man and this is multishot fic and would be writing a smut for this. Reader is close to his age (probably a hundred years younger but meh)

additional notes: this is a long one.

Part two |

[y/n] stood in the podium, her hands bound by golden chains. She looked at the higher angels who sat on the high chairs of the courtroom, her [e/c] eyes stared at them with boredom. She never liked being in heaven, so many rules to the point she couldn't breathe. She was created a few years after the infamous Lucifer fell from grace, she admired him. She has heard his cause and mentally agreed to his beliefs—she couldn't say it out loud as the higher beings would punish her. She was a good angel, always a rule follower and a good role model, then she suffered from burnt out, repeating the same thing everyday—waking up, praying, doing good, following the rules.

She started questioning their ways and now, the time has come for it to bite her back as she finally faces a trial. [Y/n] what happened the majority of her trial, she remembers doing a couple of nods in agreement and occasionally rolling her eyes whenever Adam said something stupid. She couldn't take whatever bullshit Sera was yapping about and decided to cut her off, “Enough about all these rules, just admit that us angels are egomaniacs, always hungry for control. Heck, Lucifer was right with his intentions but you guys saw it as an act of disobedience. You didn't like what he was doing since it didn't follow what you guys wanted him to do.” She said coldly, her tone making the whole room tense and cold, “he thought it was unfair to the humans to follow whatever heaven's command is without question and hesitation. But Lucifer gave them freedom,” [y/n] pauses, glaring at the higher beings, eyebrows furrowed and her eyes staring at their very soul, “Heaven is fake, you put on a show for everyone, pretending that everything is fine and this is a fun place filled with peace and we all know you guys want them to blindly follow your rules.”

“Do not ever speak his name or do you want to follow where he is?” Sera asked loudly, her voice commanding and echoing off the walls of the court but her message just made the angel in trial smirk, “Oh...? Frankly speaking, I think hell seems to be a better and more fun place than heaven. I could do whatever the fuck I want.” [y/n] says with a smirk, heart thumping loudly for the first curse word she had said. This made Sera more angry, “Then, so be it.” Sera sneers.

Falling... So this is what Icarus felt when he flew too close to the sun. Lucifer was lucky as heaven wasn't this harsh before, [y/n] closes her eyes as she felt the stinging pain of the wind caressing her back, golden ichor flowing from where her wings should be, but despite the pain, a grin was plastered on her face as she embraced the imminent pain she'll receive once she hits the burning ground of hell. Despite the extreme pain she felt on her back, the missing part of her that heaven decided to take—she felt free, shimmering tears cascades down her cheeks as she cried for her acquired freedom while simultaneously mourning for the loss of her wings. Her weak body passing by many, many clouds, passing by the crust of the earth and soon she could see the fiery red skies of hell, she can only wait for the impact.

She could hear the sound of something breaking and cracking, the loud ringing on her ears before her world turned dark. Falling from grace isn't enough to kill her.

Lucifer's usual schedule usually consists of him wallowing in self pity inside his room, making rubber ducks, or having an existential crisis in his balcony. Lucifer just so happens to be on his balcony that day, talking to his newly created rubber duck that looks like his daughter when his eyes noticed the dark red clouds of hell parting and a figure falling at extreme speeds, at first he thought it was another soul who ended up in hell but his eyes widened to see occasional gold shimmering on the figure. “What...” Lucifer murmurs in confusion, his eyes following the figure and what the...? It's about to land in his front yard.

Only his eyes widened in fear as the figure crashed and golden ichor splattered everywhere. The realization damned upon him that another angel has fallen from grace.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucifer never cursed so much as he jumped off the balcony, three pairs of wings springing out of his back as he quickly flew next to the crash site. “I swear to me if this person died,” this wouldn't be the first time someone died in his front yard but it would be the first time an angel would, but can an angel even die from this impact?

He quickly checked the fallen angel, identified that it's a female. She looked like such a mess, golden ichor splattered everywhere, messy hair from falling, eye bags, and passed out but despite all that, he found her to be very beautiful, “I swear to me, this isn't the time Lucifer.” he muttered to himself as he began to work and make sure this woman is treated properly. What made the king of hell freeze was when he used his power to lift her up gently, he noticed that so much blood was gushing out of her back where the bone that should connect to her wings. He just realized why this angel crashed, she couldn't fly. She doesn't have her wings anymore and that realization filled his heart with anger.

He stared at her broken form lying on the bed of the spare guest room of the castle, he couldn't fully heal her. There's a limit to how much his angelic powers could do, it can't reverse the damage heaven themselves have done to her. Thankfully, he managed to fix all broken bones and close the wounds she had received but he can't fix the trauma she'll receive from this. Believe him, he tried (with himself).

His hand caressed away the hair that was falling on her face, finally taking a good look on her. She looked more beautiful without those wounds, she looked better without the stress—a contrast to the first time he's seen her. Warmth flooding his cheeks, he doesn't even realize that the red of his cheeks has become significantly darker.

“Ah, Lucifer stop. You don't even know this woman,” Lucifer mutters in annoyance as he squeezes his own cheeks to stop the warmth before eventually leaving the guest room to continue his usual routine.

He's starting to get worried, the fallen angel that currently resides in his guest room still hasn't woken up. It's been eight days. He spent the entire week checking up on her and continuing to treat her, he admits that this unknown angel's presence did good to his mental health as he was busy worrying for her that he forgets to listen to his intrusive thoughts. “What am I going to do with you?” Lucifer mutters softly as he places his hands above her, hovering over her body as golden hue begins to glow. Slowly and surely healing her.

Aching pain in her muscles is what she felt, slowly regaining consciousness. [Y/n] woke up in an unfamiliar room, oddly reminds her of the rooms that only royalty have. She tried to move her muscles but she could feel it cracking from not moving for a long time. “What happened...?” she asked herself softly, trying to remember what happened. The trial, Sera's anger, Adam being annoying, falling, her wings, then crashing. “Where am I?” she asked herself again, her voice croaking slightly, she slowly moved her body so she could sit on the bed, her eyes wandering everywhere, taking in her surroundings. She noticed that the symbol apple and snake was present on the designs of the tinted windows. The door opens.

Another week has passed, still no sign of her waking up. Lucifer was walking towards the guest room, preparing himself to try to heal her again. He opens the door and he froze to see the fallen angel who's usually lying limp on the bed is now sitting and staring on the window. “You're awake.” he says softly and she turned to look at him, her eyes, it's so beautiful. “Who are you?” she asked him softly and he smiled, “The name's Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to hell.”

[quarterlifekitty]

I blame you for turning me into a Nikolai lover, what do you mean he's bouncing us on his lap, that's crazy 🙈 I imagine you'd be delirious with exhaustion and what can you do but lean into his chest, so tired that you can't even try to bite him and just go limp, trusting him in some small way bc you can't get your bearings yet and everyone's a stranger, and a loud stranger bit you and you don't know where you are and who or whatever holding you is nice and sturdy and soft enough to be comfortable, and everything's so scary and dangerous, surely you can rest your eyes for a moment while whoever's holding you so nicely is bouncing you? and what a nice voice that rumbles in your your ear, even if you can't pick out what he's saying, surely someone so nice won't mind if you catch a little shuteye

absolutely love your writing, it's like you pried open my brain and went "hmmm what would be as attractive as possible" I hope that makes sense 💕💕

So. This is completely unrelated and I mean this in a humorous way. But I am a little paranoid when reading message previews right after getting an anon that disagrees with me on how I'm doing things. So I'll see so many asks like this where the preview in the notifications will just say "I blame you..." and I'll be like oh god oh fuck what have I done and then I'll click on it and be like oh lol it was a fun and cool thing nevermind.

Anyways.... it's no secret that I love Nikolai as a softdom/caregiver type guy. So I love this so much. And honestly you can crucify me if you want but I'd like to take it even further if you'll follow me to see what's behind door number one...

CW: this is kinda edging on ddlg/cgl and by that i mean its got mindless finga suckin'

From Nikolai's point of view, Johnny is barely past being a fledgling himself. Hardly fit to be siring his own vampires, even less fit to take care of them. And besides, if he knows Price (and he likes to think he does), Johnny will likely be separated from you while John comes to a decision of what to do about this whole kerfuffle. So you're without guidance, as it stands. And that won't do.

It's already clear to Nikolai that Soap was too excited with his new find that he didn't even bother to find you a meal before spiriting you back to the den. You're certainly acting starved and dizzy-- easily pushed around. He pulls at your lip to inspect the fangs that have only just begun to take shape from your incisors. And if your wincing is anything to go by, they're still very sensitive. He can't very well take you out now, so he does the next best thing.

A drop of his own blood lands on his tongue as his fang punctures the calloused skin of his index finger before slipping it into your mouth. You perk up a little when a rivulet of ichor slides back into your throat, gently sucking at the wound before teething a bit mindlessly at the flesh by his knuckle.

The older vampire keeps you curled into him, murmuring praises and encouragements and sweetness against your hairline in words you can't fully parse, but just listening and tasting him and closing your eyes makes it all feel so much easier.