#demon project still with no name

[zevifa]

Haven't posted here in a while, and to finish the year, here is... a colored sketch of Vidne wearing a big hat.

[heylinfanclub]

Tfw when I take a villain from a horror bideogame and turn him into a protagonist (as in main character but not necessarily good) in another story but more tragic now. lol. Lmao. Wheeze. I want to draw him (them?) sometimes but idk how people gonna feel bout my AU of sorts.

But he’s got a finger cut off and gets a cool replacement (from the demon who cut it off) maybe I can just draw that.

[rafecameronssl4t]

The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 1,532

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.

His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.

Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.

Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”

Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”

Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.

“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”

“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”

Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.

His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”

“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”

With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

~

It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.

The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.

Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.

Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.

Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.

A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.

There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.

Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

[miupow]

ℌOℓเ𝔇AY 𝔇ECOɌATเNɠ ⸝⸝ 휴닝카이

asking your favorite i.t guy for help decorating goes horribly (or perfectly) wrong. 一 𝒾n 𝓌hich you and your coworker huening kai get stuck in a closet together during a snowstorm。

⧼ 🎄 ⧽ 一 𝓅airing・hueningkai x fem!reader 𝓰enre/𝓌arnings・smut, fluff, pwp, nsfw, minors do not interact! trapped in a closet trope, power outages, sex with the lights off, groping, breast worship, nipple sucking, dry humping, handjobs, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex, pullout method, vaginal sex, cumshot, cum marking, begging, slight sub!kai but not really, praise kink, size kink, resolved romantic and sexual tension 𝓌c ・5. 9 k | 𝓉o 𝓁ibrary.

[𝓃otes。] holy shit this is so much longer than i meant for it to be. i was just possessed by some sort of demon and wrote this thing in two days, which is the fastest i've ever written anything ever... thank you @jellymochii for betareading! hope you all enjoy this cute little fic while on your holiday breaks ^_^

no one had ever bothered to warn you about how difficult it was to plan a party. maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity when it had been presented to you— though it was awfully in your nature as a corporate kiss-ass to accept any work-related project that was offered to you in blind hope that you’ll manage to impress some higher-up somewhere along the line. you had only been hired at txt bank a few months ago, anyway, and the lady you replaced was the one who oversaw all the holiday decorating. didn’t that mean, technically speaking, that by association it was now your job too? either way, you figured that it would do you some good to prove yourself dependable.

“i’m sure you’ll do great,” your boss, yeonjun had reassured you with a not-so-comforting pat on the back. “don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

you were terrified to ask for help. you didn’t even know most of your coworkers’ names yet, let alone feel comfortable enough with them to ask for help with a benefit-less side quest. it might just be paranoia, but you were sure they wouldn’t want to help you even if you did ask. the old financial analysist seems to have been a popular staple in the office, and you were a far cry away from the life of the party. young, inexperienced, and far too shy for your own good— you’ve never had any of your peers reach out to you for more than letting you know what you were doing wrong. yeonjun’s assistant, beomgyu, was the only person in the bank you felt even remotely comfortable with, having known him since you were a freshman in college, and without his mentoring and his happy-go-lucky attitude, you were sure that you would have buckled under the pressure long before you made it to the new year.

naturally, you run to him first.

“you don’t want my help, believe me,” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to face you. “why don’t you ask kai? you know he’ll say yes— hell, you could probably ask him to jump from the tenth floor and he’d do it. he’s obsessed with you.”

“he’s not obsessed.” you retort weakly, rolling your eyes. “he’s just being nice.”

“sure, buying you coffee and lunch, following you around like a lost puppy, and offering to walk you to your car every night is just being nice.”

“i asked him to that first time!” you pout. “the parking garage is scary when it’s dark out…”

huening kai worked in the bank’s i.t. department, down in the basement. even then, you still saw him often, the poor boy constantly running up and down those stairs whenever he was called. he was the only stranger to welcome you warmly when you first began at the company, offering his assistance with anything you needed— it was an honest godsend, because the computer software went so far over your head it made you dizzy. you still haven’t gotten quite the hang of it, but that was mostly because it was difficult to focus on what kai was saying when he was bent over you so closely and intimately, explaining equations and spreadsheets with that soft, gentle voice of his. you only felt dizzier in his presence, so nothing he told you ever stuck… but that worked just fine for you, because that meant you could keep asking for his help.

beomgyu says that kai has a crush on you. you’re certain he’s just that sweet and friendly with everyone. 

as much as you hate it, beomgyu’s right that kai would help you out if you asked him to. you feel bad for hogging up all of his time, as busy as he is even when he isn’t assisting people, but if beomgyu won’t help you he’s the only other person you’re willing to ask. when you see him again later that evening, smiling that pretty lopsided smile that gives your tummy butterflies, offering to walk you through the parking garage again, you ask him meekly if he’d help you decorate for the office christmas party.

he accepts a little more enthusiastically than you had anticipated he would. “there’s a storage closet down in the basement that has some old decorations from last year’s party.” he tells you as you dig around in your purse for your car keys, “i can show it to you sometime if you’d like! it’ll have to be after everyone goes home, though. i’m technically not allowed to go rooting through storage.”

“isn’t there supposed to be a snowstorm tomorrow?” you ask. “yeonjun told me he’ll let everyone go home early if it starts getting really bad. maybe we can stay behind then?”

“ooh, sneaky.” kai giggles. “sounds like a plan!”

your heart raced the entire drive home. it was just going through some old dusty decorations, it wasn’t a date or anything even close to it, but why did your heartbeat flutter like it was one? that night you tossed and turned, unable to sleep— no matter how hard you tried to clear your head you couldn’t stop thinking about your plans with kai. part of you was nervous you would land in trouble with yeonjun if you were caught snuck around the office after hours, but all of that anxiety was drowned out effortlessly by your excitement and anticipation. alone? with kai? it might not be a date to him, but it sure was one to you.

by the time exhaustion finally overtook you, rays of light from the rising sun were already beginning to stream through the gap in your curtains. you get only a few hours of sleep before your morning alarm forces you awake. you’re tired and groggy, and can barely stay awake to get dressed and ready for work, but the sight of fresh falling snow out your window revitalizes you better than any cup of coffee. frigid, bitter wind slaps you in the face as you leave your house, your flimsy scarf and coat doing little to shield you from the brewing blizzard, but you can’t find it in you to be unhappy even as you nearly slip and break your neck getting to your car. this is exactly what you were hoping for, and a quick glance at your phone confirms that the snowfall is only going to get worse.

you find it difficult to focus all day, partly because of your nerves and partly because you kept looking out the office windows to admire the snow. seoul turns nearly invisible below you, all the streets and buildings covered in a sparkling, dazzling blanket of pure white that blinds you. it was oddly peaceful, the swirling snowfall silencing the usually loud and bustling city.

by lunchtime, you couldn’t see anything outside at all. the snowflakes turn rapidly to sleet and ice, and the wind picks up to the point it’s howling and shaking the windows. yeonjun began sending people home at two, and by four the office was silent for an entirely different reason.

you tell yeonjun that you have some extra statements to go through, but that you’ll be leaving shortly— you even make a show out of packing up your purse, going extra slow just in case he wants to stay and chat. thankfully, he exits the office without much fuss, reminding you to drive carefully, and to tell security when you’re leaving so they could lock up behind you.

“of course, sir, thank you. have a good night.” you reply with a tight smile, praying that you don’t look as guilty as you feel.

once you hear the exit doors close behind him, you shoot up out of your desk and hightail it to the basement. kai meets you at the stairs, grinning and waving excitedly with his bag slung over his shoulder. “it shouldn’t take very long, the closet’s pretty small,” he says, ushering you to follow him. “i want us both to get out of here before the storm gets any worse.”

while you certainly wouldn’t mind spending extra time alone with kai, the last thing you want is to get snowed in at the office. he leads you down a dimly lit hallway, flanked on each side by identical personal offices. the rooms were empty and dark, devoid of any signs of life or activity— it shouldn’t surprise you, seeing how everyone had left for the day, but something about the uncanny, isolated atmosphere gave you the creeps. kai continues to lead you to the very end of the hall, stopping at a scuffed, unmarked wooden door. a keypad fixed to the adjacent wall blinks brightly in the dark.

“this is the closet you were talking about?” you question, eyeing the door oddly. “it doesn’t look like a storage closet at all. why’s it got a keypad?”

“it used to be a server room, i think. there’s still some equipment in the back.” kai responds lightly, bending over slightly to plug in the code for the keypad. “now it’s just used to store stuff we don’t need, though only my department can use it. expensive computers and whatnot. after last year’s christmas party i helped put away everything, and i stored it all in here ‘cos i was too lazy to take it all the way to the top floor.”

the keypad beeps and the little blinking light turns green. kai pulls the door open and gestures you inside.

the air in the storage closet is stale and dusty. you search in the dark for the light switch, but kai locates it with ease, and you find yourself having to blink hard a couple of times to adjust to the near-blinding fluorescent light. against each wall countless labeled boxes and tubs are stacked up nearly to the ceiling, each one filled to the brim. a line of folding chairs leaned up against a broken desk, a ladder and some cleaning supplies occupied a far corner. as kai had said, abandoned old server racks had been pushed to the very back of the room, collecting dust, far too outdated to be of any use anymore. the room was small and narrow with no windows, barely enough room to move around besides the carefully constructed walkway that wove between all the junk. you feel awfully claustrophobic, especially with kai’s tall, broad frame stepping in behind you. you both toss your bags to an empty spot on the floor, and the door swings shut with a dull click.

you can still hear the storm outside, even down here. the wind howls and whips around viciously, and the sleet pummels the walls like thousands of tiny bullets.

“there should be a fake tree in here somewhere,” huening murmurs, squeezing past you to make his way towards the back of the closet. his chest brushes against your back as he moves past, and you can feel the firm planes of his broad pecs through the thin material of his button down shirt. “and some wreaths and ribbons and things. i think i hid them all back here so i wouldn’t get in trouble.”

you laugh airily, a little too distracted to fully pay attention to what he was saying. “you? in trouble? i don’t think yeonjun has the heart.”

kai shrugs, opening a random cardboard box and peering inside. “you’d be surprised. you haven’t been here long enough to see what he’s capable of— oh, by the way, how are you liking it here so far? getting the hang of everything?”

you should probably be helping him, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the way the muscles in his back ripple through his shirt. “i, um. i’m still figuring it out. i really appreciate your help.”

the blizzard grows even louder outside, to the point it’s beginning to frighten you. you don’t think you’ve ever heard of a snowstorm causing a building’s walls to cave in, but there’s always a first for everything.

if kai notices that you haven’t moved from where you stood by the door, he doesn’t mention it. “no need to thank me! i’m happy to, really. i’ll help you out with whatever you need anytime, y/n, you just have to ask. you know you can count on me.” he moves on to another box, seemingly still searching in vain for those decorations. ”who’s your favorite coworker? if you have one, i mean—ah, that’s a stupid question. it’s probably beomgyu.”

kai’s tone changed suddenly, from happy and bright to something you couldn’t quite place. you’ve never heard kai sound like that before. “what do you mean?” you prod, cocking your head to the side.

he looks as if he’s weighing the question, biting the inside of his round cheek as his eyes look everywhere except at your face. “well, i mean, like… he’s your friend, right? and you and him have known each other for years now. you hang out with him every day, outside of work too, going to the bar and whatever. and you’re always talking about him, and laughing at his jokes, and looking his stupid face and his stupid hair—”

you’re not sure how to quite process that. “actually, kai… my favorite coworker is you.”

kai’s head spins around so fast that you’re afraid it’s going to come off, his big brown eyes wide with shock. “wait, what? really?!”

“yes, really.” you giggle, “i thought you would have known that, silly. beomgyu’s my friend and all, but he gets on my nerves all the time. you’ve just been so sweet to me when nobody else has, and you’ve made me feel so welcome… it really means a lot.”

kai’s face turns an adorable shade of pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. “oh. well. um. th-thank you. i—” he averts his eyes back to all the boxes, shyly lowering his head. his long dark bangs fall into his eyes, shielding the unreadable emotions that swirled in their dark chocolate depths. “i’m glad you feel that way… i can’t seem to find any of these stupid decorations, i’m worried we’re not going to be able to make it out of here before the power goes—”

just then, the light flickers, pops, and plunges both of you back into complete and total darkness.

“—out.”

it’s so dark inside the storage closet that you can’t even see your hands in front of your face— if you screw your eyes shut and open them again, it makes no difference, completely blind to everything except the cacophonous howling of the wind. “shit!” kai curses, the first time you’ve ever heard him do so, some loud stumbling and crashing coming from your left. “hold on, i’ll get us out of here—”

more crashing and banging, now moving your way; you open your mouth to warn him far too late, and kai barrels into you, nearly knocking you over. “sorry!” he yelps, outstretching his arm to break your fall and instead grabbing a fat fistful of your breast. he doesn’t seem to even notice, his hands large and warm and squeezing a little too tightly, seeping through the thin material of your blouse and bra and making a very unwelcome heat bloom between your legs.

“um, kai,” you stutter, trying your hardest to keep your voice level, “that’s… my boob.”

kai tears his hand away as if it were touching hot coals, and much to your dismay you find yourself immediately missing his touch. “i’m so sorry!” he repeats in a rush, stumbling over his words, his usually deep voice a couple octaves higher. you’re sure his handsome face is glowing crimson red, and distantly you wish the lights were on so you could see it. “i— i, i  didn’t mean to, i swear!”

“i know you didn’t,” you reassure him quickly, reaching out your own arms to help him squeeze himself by. with your help, he manages to slip his way past you, towards the general vicinity of the doorway, his feet knocking over things all the way there. you can hear him pressing buttons rapidly on the keypad, the device making no noise or beeping any lights— kai curses again and slams his fist against the wall, the loud thud echoing throughout the dark room.

“we’re stuck in here.” kai mutters in dismay.

“what do you mean we’re stuck in here?!”

“the door automatically locks itself when it closes and the keypad is the only way to unlock it… and it turned off along with the power. it’s alright though, the backup generator should turn on any minute now…”

the two of you stand around in silence for a long pregnant pause. the power does not turn back on.

“or not.” he gripes. “okay, this is fine, we’ll get out of here somehow— here, let me turn on my phone flashlight…”

kai rummages around in his pockets before pulling out what you assume is his phone. you anticipate seeing the little flashlight to finally illuminate the all-encompassing dark, but it never comes. “…and my phone’s dead. great. just great.”

“you really need to get better about charging that thing.” you quip sarcastically. “how many times have you asked to borrow my charger? now i only bring it because i know you’ll need it.”

“i know, i didn’t— wait, really? just for me?”

you don’t respond to his question, your cheeks flaring up from the confession you didn’t mean to let slide. “my phone should still have a charge.” you say, attempting to change the subject, “but i left it in my purse. i’m gonna try and grab it.”

carefully, you begin to shuffle your way towards the corner of the room, where you were at least mostly certain that you and kai had placed down your bags. kai follows you closely, his large hands balanced on your shoulders to keep him steady… a fine ideas at first, when you were making good headway, but you didn’t get very far at all.

you manage to only make it a few short steps before your kitten heel catches on something rolling around on the ground— kai must have knocked the contents of a few boxes over on his way over to you, little plastic bulbs that feel an awful lot like christmas ornaments, as ironic as it is. you trip and stumble, and you probably could have caught yourself easily if it wasn’t for kai’s large body falling with you. you both come crashing to the floor, your sharp gasp drowned out by kai’s loud shriek right in your ear; he squishes you against the cold linoleum floor, his chest pressed against your back, his hips flush against your ass. you try to wriggle free, but kai is just too heavy on top of you, motionless and oddly silent as he breathes hard against the back of your neck.

 “oh my god, kai, you big oaf, get off of me!” you whine, attempting in vain to push yourself up onto your hands and knees— your wiggle your hips against kai’s own, akin to a bucking hose trying to unseat it’s rider, and that’s when you feel it.

your pencil skirt has ridden up so that only your pantyhose and underwear were covering your ass, and you can feel every inch of kai’s hardening dick pressed up against you as if there were no clothes between you at all. the weight and curve of it, slotted perfectly between your asscheeks like it belonged there, the way it twitches violently in his slacks when you gasp.

“i’m sorry,” he whimpers, his head buried in your shoulder, his voice wobbly like he was about to cry, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—”

just then do you register his hands on your hips, touching you so intimately, steadfast in their movements down your ass and thighs despite shaking like a leaf. he’s never been this close to you before, his body so sculpted and masculine against you, his soft plump lips ghosting over the exposed skin of your neck, wafts of his musky cologne clouding your senses. you shouldn’t do this, you should remain professional… but you’ve wanted huening kai for months, since you first met him, and having him pressed against you so helpless and vulnerable has destroyed all your control and reason. all you could think about was that kai wanted you too, and you had the proof straining against you and begging to be freed.

you roll your hips back against him slowly, as if not to startle him— the broken moan that falls from those kissable lips is downright obscene, whiny and desperate, shooting hot sparks of pleasure down your body to your core.

“a-ah, d-did you, um. did you mean to d-do that?” he asks in a small voice, his cock growing even harder against you.

you can’t take it anymore— in kai’s dazed state you manage to pull yourself up from underneath him, spinning around on your knees to grab wildly in his direction. you manage to get your fist wrapped around his tie, and with a sharp tug kai’s lips come crashing down onto yours. his lips are soft and pillowy against your own, tasting a little sweet, like the tea with milk and honey he enjoys drinking while he works. his panting breath tickles your skin, his fingers coming up to card through your hair as you open your mouths and breathe each other in. your bodies press together heatedly, hands roaming everywhere you could reach, groping and pulling each other impossibly closer together. kai’s other hand slides down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the plush lightly between his fingers. swathed in all this darkness, it was easy to forget that you weren’t dreaming.

you’ve never kissed or been kissed like this before.

“does that answer your question?” you giggle when you part for air, panting hotly into each others mouths before kai descends upon you to recapture your lips himself.

this kiss is even more heated than the last, kai prying your lips apart to deepen the passion with teeth and tongue. you wish you could see, could admire the sharp tic of kai’s jaw as he kissed you, lose yourself in those beautiful brown eyes. bear some witness to something you were sure would never happen. you could feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, blood rushing in your ears to drown out the storm as you both fumble with each other’s clothes. kai’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing harshly when you run your hand down his chest and belly to his belt buckle. it’s a struggle to unfasten in the dark, but you manage to roughly tear his fly open and fish his hot throbbing cock out of his boxers. you wrap your hand around it, so fat your fingers barely connect— kai lets out a strangled whine as you stroke up to thumb at the tip, thick globs of precum slicking up your hand.

“t-take it off,” kai grits out against your lips, his large hands fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, “please, wanna feel—”

an affirming hum is all he needs, impatiently pulling at the buttons— your blouse pops open with a loud ripping sound, and he pulls both your top and bra down just enough for your breasts to fall out. your nipples harden in the cold air, but they’re quickly warmed up by kai’s fingers. he pinches and tugs at the buds roughly, the sensation making you keen wantonly.

“kai! that shirt was expensive!” you whine, but the hand pumping his cock only strokes faster— you really couldn’t find it within yourself to care much about anything, and you wanted to make sure kai didn’t stop to apologize even more than he already has.

“couldn’t help it, i just love your tits,” kai groans, letting go of your nipples to grope and massage the fat mounds of your breasts. his grip gets tighter with every flick of your wrist, breath coming out in short airy pants. “fuck, you’re so sexy, it makes me g-go insane. running around in those tight tops and those short little skirts, i just want to— ah!— f-fuck you all the time—!”

“kai,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the searing heat growing between them.

“i wish i could see you right now,” he continues, and you jump at the sensation of a hot wet tongue against your nipple. “i could probably cum just from how hot you look— god, i’ve been wanting to do this for forever.”

his plump, spit-slick lips seal around your hard bud, his hands continuing to play with your chest as he sucks and nibbles. you cry out high in your throat, letting go of his twitching cock to crumple your fist in his shirt. your pussy aches to be touched, dripping so much slick you’re sure you’ve completely ruined your panties. kai’s fingers and mouth better than anything you’ve ever felt before, good enough to make you cum from just this alone, but you desperately, wildly, primally need more.

“touch me!” you beg him, pulling him impossibly closer, right where you need him most. “kai, please touch me!”

kai gives your nipple one last tug between his teeth before pulling off with a pop, leaving your breasts covered in his spit and erupting in goose flesh from the frigid air. slowly and carefully he crawls himself between your open legs, sliding his fingers underneath your bunched up skirt. he runs a fingertip down the gusset of your panties, just the ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make you keen in delight. “you’re so wet,” kai laments, sounding utterly debauched, rubbing between your weeping pussy lips over the lace, circling your clit until you mewl, “made a mess in your panties… did i really make you this wet? that’s so fucking hot…”

he relinquishes his finger, and you’re not sure what you were expecting next, but it definitely wasn’t for him to grab ahold of your pantyhose and underwear and tear them from your body in one powerful yank. the nylon and lace rip like paper, the ghastly sound ringing in your ears, and kai tosses the shredded fabric to the side before positioning himself to kneel between your thighs.

“i’ll do more than touch you if you’ll let me,” he whispers in your ear, running his hand up your inner thigh leaving behind a burning trail in it’s wake, “i wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please, can i? i’ll buy you new clothes, i’ll buy you whatever you want, just let me ruin you…”

“we don’t have a condom…” you breathe, but you widen your legs to give him more room anyway. usually that would be a deal-breaker for you, but you’ve already done more in this closet than you would have ever even dreamed of doing.

“i’ll pull out, i promise.” kai’s voice is far too soothing for your own good, those terrible, god-sent big hands grabbing ahold of the back of your knees to expose you even further. you can hardly think at all anymore, too focused on the throbbing need swirling deep in your pussy, and how good it would feel if you would take the risk and just let go.

“please…” is all you can manage to say, and with a delighted groan huening folds your legs up to rest on his shoulders and positions his weeping cock at your entrance. it feels so filthy, with your torn-up pantyhose still clinging to your legs and your heels hanging from your toes, and once again you wished desperately that you could see just how lewd of a sight the two of you were.

kai slides his cock up and down between your folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with your juices. his bulbous cockhead bumps deliciously against your clit before gliding back down to your entrance, pressing against the rim of your hole just enough to tease before letting up and doing it again. as hot as it is and as good as it feels, you can’t handle any teasing anymore, not when you’ve been on the edge and in need of release for this long.

“put it in,” you beg, and you can hardly recognize your own voice. you sound so needy, so pornographic— it would be embarrassing if you weren’t this far gone. “please, please, need you s’ bad, kai, need your cock—”

kai shushes you with an unexpectedly chaste kiss, sweet and gentle and nothing at all like the way he was thrusting himself inside of your tight wet heat like an animal. the stretch burns so good you nearly scream, his cock longer and fatter than any you’ve ever taken before. for a delirious moment you worry that he’ll tear you in half, that he won’t fit, your walls clenching down on him like a vice as he forces his way deeper and deeper, until his tip kisses your cervix and his balls slap wetly against your ass.

“s-so big,” you slur, clawing weakly at his chest, your mouth slack and your mind completely blank except for how impossibly full you feel.

“is it too much?” kai asks you nervously, back to his sweet anxious self for a split second. “i’m so sorry, i couldn’t stop myself, pussy’s sucking me in—”

“feels so goo-o-od!” you mewl dumbly, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together the longer kai is inside of you. “need more, hyuka, give it to me!”

the innocent nickname makes him moan, and just like you wanted and pleaded for he begins to fuck you in sincere earnest. his thrusts are fast and brutal, lit by a deep, primal fire you had no idea kai possessed. it knocks the wind out of you, overwhelmed in the best possible way, your mouth falling slack and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you moan loudly every time his cock spears your cervix.

“deep! so f-fucking deep!” you hiccup breathlessly, surrendering yourself completely to the onslaught of red-hot pleasure. you can feel him in your belly, right under your navel, your wet little pussy squelching obscenely with every movement of kai’s hips. he finds your sweet spot with shocking ease, angling his cock to drag against that spongey bundle of nerves and make you even wetter.

“yeah?” kai croons, thrusting himself inside of you impossibly harder, faster, “feels so good, huh? fuck, this pussy’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight— best cunt i’ve ever had, baby, feels better than i ever imagined… can’t let you go now, perfect girl all for me. this perfect pussy’s all mine, you hear, no one elses!”

he recaptures your pert nipple between his lips, suckling even rougher than before; your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, sensitive flesh jiggling in his face as he trails his teeth and tongue across the planes of your cleavage, leaving dusky lovebites in his wake. he slobbers over your tits like a hungry dog, his moans and whines muffled by your nipples he takes turns slurping them up into his mouth. the pangs of pleasure from your sore nipples combined with kai’s quickening pace and filthy words tug you closer and closer to the brink of insanity, the fiery hot tsunami building deep within your belly threatening to overflow and toss you into its euphoric depths.

“love you so much,” kai admits as he continues to babble nonsense, seemingly not noticing just what was coming out of his mouth, “been wanting you for so fucking long, needed you  so bad— my pretty girl, so beautiful, wanna see your face when you cum. you must look so sexy when you cum.”

your heart clenches along with your cunt.

there is nothing you can see, but there is plenty you can hear— kai’s hips clapping against your ass, his beautiful broken whimpering, the slick sounds of your pussy gushing around his cock. you open your mouth to speak, voice the mounting ecstasy that built steadily in your throbbing cunt, but you can’t seem to get out anything other than shrill, pathetic cries of pleasure. your mind was wiped completely blank, nothing but static behind your eyes, thoughts filled with nothing except the pressure in your core and how good it would feel if you let it consume you.

“gonna cum!” you wail, using up all your energy into making yourself speak— kai groans happily, his thrusts grow desperate and sloppy, speeding up to pound your sweet spot into oblivion.

“yes! cum with me, angel, come on, you can do it.” he coos, voice shaking as his body jolts and shudders above you. his hands come down to press hard on your engorged, sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles against the throbbing bud. “that’s it, make a mess, cum all over my cock!”

your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking from the overwhelming pleasure as you pulsate and gush around him. you recognize distantly that you’re squirting, droplets of viscous liquid splashing all over your tummy and thighs, drenching huening as well. your release triggers his own climax, and he wrenches out his cock from your quivering pussy just milliseconds before ropes and ropes of thick, sticky cum splatters hot and wet all over your heaving tits.

“holy fuck,” kai whimpers, unable to catch his breath, “that was the best sex i’ve ever had.”

you just giggle weakly, trying to calm down your racing heart yourself; the two of you lay against each other in silence for a moment basking in the afterglow while you both come down from your highs. your orgasm sucked all the life force out of you, it seemed, leaving you weak and exhausted as you lay boneless on the cold storage closet floor.

and just like that, the lights turn back on. the heating system starts back up again. you’re nearly blinded after spending so long in the dark, squinting your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

kai is staring right back at you.

his dark hair is wild and sticking out in all directions, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks dusted pink. his tie is half-undone and his work shirt is terribly wrinkled, drenched in what you can only assume to be your juices. his softening cock lies against his thigh, poking out from his unzipped fly, slacks just as damp and ruined as his shirt was. his chest heaves with the force of his breaths, no doubt taking in your own appearance himself. you look down just enough to see your torn clothes, your cumstained breasts and wet thighs, your smart professional outfit looking like it was ravaged by some sort of rabid animal.

“you look beautiful.” kai whispers in rapture, gazing down at you with soft melted chocolate eyes.

“um.” you respond smartly, cheeks burning, averting your eyes to check the closet door— the keypad’s light blinks cheerfully at you, as if it had never been turned off in the first place. “do you want to get out of here?”

kai smiles, that signature smile that gives you even more butterflies now than it did before. “do you wanna watch a christmas movie at my place?”

tomorrow x together taglist ; @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi , @numxra , @soobinsbuns , @taegimood , @jeniihss, @soobabby , @hhoneylix , @beargyuuzz @fullbodyblankets , @xenkimmie , @ttaesoob , @shinyngirl , @lxnoluvr , @blxxsss , @ode2soob , @beom-gyubears, @ashiixari , @lurking-coconut , @horanghaelovr , @yyeonzi , @paegesoobin , @nightlyhyuka, @urstylezx , @f4iryfever , @givethnofucketh , @allisonistrashh, @katsukis1wife , @luvtyunn , @tyunzonlystar, @inkigayocamman , @hyunj00 , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @strawberryshoujosundae , @enigmaticaphrodite , @txtistheloml , @jellymochii, @welostthesummer111, @skzooluvr

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©𝚖𝚒𝚞-𝚙𝚘𝚠.𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐。𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍.

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor comes home to silence.

It's strange considering how much of a night owl you've become since meeting him. The quietness is almost eerie—the long stretch of hall between the staircase and your shared bedroom seeming daunting despite the fact that he's walked it a million times before.

The rest of the hotel is dark, like it's been devoid of life all this time. Even Husk has retired for the night, the bar closed and wiped down.

He wonders if he accidentally waltzed into an alternate dimension.

Shaking his head, Alastor creeps down the hall as to not disturb the other guests between him and the bedroom. The door creaks at the hinges as he slowly pushes it open, not wanting to spook you in case you were awake.

He can't explain it, but warmth fills him from the tips of his ears all the way down to his toes when he finally lays eyes on you.

You've fallen asleep at the desk, head buried in your arms to hide your face from the light of the lamp. Your shoulders rise and fall gently with each soft snore, the blanket sloppily thrown over your shoulders cascading down to the floor to make you look like royalty.

The demon feels his grin shrink into a small smile as he slips behind you to peer at what you were doing before you passed out. Dozens of polaroid photos are lazily scattered around the desk, each one dated in the corner and signed with your name and a heart.

His eyes scan the sprawling expanse of photos, dating all the way back to just before you'd introduced yourselves to each other.

He carefully plucks the sharpie from your fingers and caps it before slipping an arm under your knees and the other behind your back. Hoisting you up and using his hip to slide the chair back into place under the desk, he watches as you stir in his arms for a moment.

Alastor carries you to bed, laying you down and re-fluffing your blanket so that you can cozy into it. He sweeps your hair from your eyes and leans down to kiss your forehead.

"Sleep well, Cher," he whispers.

He's just about to whisk himself away to get ready to join you in bed when he happens across the photos again. Curiosity washes through him and, nosy as ever, he dares to take a peek at what your little project was all about.

The demon is careful not to nick the photos with his claws as he lightly drags them across the film, tracing each memory you captured.

Your first day at the hotel, dangling between Charlie and Vaggie as they took you in like a lost puppy. He's not in the photo, but he still remembers hearing your laughter from the lobby and thinking it was wonderful.

Your first time doing one of Charlie's ridiculous bonding activities, where you confessed that you had no recollection of your life as a human. It wasn't uncommon for new Sinners to have forgotten their lives, after all.

Your first time letting Angel dress you. He had decided to put you in something tight and revealing... that bastard.

Alastor's fingers stop atop a polaroid dated to when you first became friends.

He's distracted, looking at you with an expression he can't even recognize himself. Brows quirked and smile making his cheeks cherub—you snapped the photo in his moment of vulnerability when he normally would have vanished from it instantly.

He continues tracing your face in chronological order, your smile growing in each. And he's in every single one of them, never looking at the camera but instead distracted by you in some way.

"People told me you never like to take pictures," your voice suddenly startles him. He looks at you over his shoulder in surprise. You blink at him slowly through your bleariness, the same smile he's seen in all the photos gracing your face. "But for some reason, you've always been in mine."

Alastor turns around again to scan across all the polaroids you've taken of him, dating up until just last week when you had surprised him his favourite meal.

For a moment it dawns on him that he, a demon, should never have opened himself up so much to you. That you were his greatest flaw. That he was weak around you. The thought leaves as fast as it came when he realizes how soft his smile had gotten around you.

He can't remember ever being this happy even as a mortal walking the earth.

"Al?" You say quietly, now sitting up in bed alert and awake from his uncharacteristic silence.

He's still for another second. Then, he swipes the camera from the desk and makes his way to your side. You barely have time to register what he's doing before the light flashes and the shutter clicks.

The picture prints slow enough for you to finally realize that you had been the subject of his photo.

"What was that for?" You giggle, rubbing your eyes from the blinding light.

Alastor takes the picture and slips it into his pocket.

"I want to remember this," he tells you with a kiss to the top of your head. "A memory for me to keep, dearest."

~

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[diushek]

Shen Yuan concept without being a NEET just because my sister and I thought of this and lol we had a good time

So Shen Yuan is this rich kid and all, but he actually has this hobby that started taking up 80% of his free time: designing clothes. He started out as a cosmaker, can you blame him? Cosplays are so poor quality these days. And Shen Yuan is used to good quality clothes even if they are just simple t-shirts. So when he started realizing how pathetically expensive some cosplays were compared to their quality, he just... Well, he had to design his own!

Little by little, he evolved. And one day his wealthy family found him this job designing clothes for xianxia dramas, and Shen Yuan, a little delirious, accepted. It's okay! He designed a lot of sketches inspired by arts, historical research here and there, things that also looked nice and realistic. Shen Yuan enjoys his job almost as much as he enjoys criticizing each new PIDW chapter. How is it possible that they've been thirty chapters into that subplot and there have been more papapa scenes than a resolution?! Outrageous!

Shen Yuan designs a lot. He still works as a cosmaker, as he really enjoys doing embroidery. It's a time-consuming job, but he gets paid well and his cosplays are the best in the entire community. His family is happy that he has left his lonely life and has this job and this new business experience, they congratulate him on his new achievements, they urge him to enroll in some university fashion or clothing design.

Shen Yuan dismisses it. He misses his life as a NEET a little, but in reality on his days off he just plays around and does nothing, which is the same thing he does on his work days, except he embroiders and sews or draw on those work days. Days so busy, they are not.

So Airplane ends PIDW like absolute shit, Shen Yuan drowns and dies.

And he opens his eyes. Well, what the hell. It doesn't take long for him to discover that he transmigrated into an NPC. Tailored, apparently, because he's an no-name NPC apprentice to a spider demon seamstress!

He has a lot of knowledge about all of this, so it doesn't take him long to put it into practice. His teacher congratulates him and he makes a lot of sales. Soon, he gains a very good reputation. Maidens from other kingdoms come to Shen Yuan to design clothes for them for festivals, for dances, for family celebrations. Shen Yuan designs, sews, embroiders. It's not far from his old life, although he misses Project Sekai and caffeine a little.

He opens his own workshop almost a year later, with the goodwill of his demon teacher. She warns him of something: Shen Yuan is a thread woven to another soul. And soon, his soulmate will come for him.

Shen Yuan is a little nervous, but, oh well! A soulmate! If only!

He knows, for a fact, that that's impossible. They're in the disgusting world of PIDW, and at least half of the dresses he's made have been for Binghe's future wives. Some would even be torn apart without any care! What a waste of his time and effort!

He doesn't think about it too much. Shen Yuan just focuses on his work. He designs, sews, embroiders. He sleeps little but enjoys the smile on the faces of the Meimei's when they hug the pretty fabrics. It is, despite everything, a good life.

Then, Emperor Luo Binghe arrives at his door.

In person. Not with servants, not with a letter, not with an invitation. It is Emperor Luo Binghe who arrives at his door.

Of course Shen Yuan is going to make robes for the emperor! There's no need for him to ask or offer to pay for them! He's nervous and a little scared, but Luo Binghe is... well, he doesn't seem to have no kind of threatening aura or any kind of charm. He asks him for the designs of some robes and stays there while Shen Yuan makes the first sketches. Luo Binghe gives more directions, more corrections... And Shen Yuan discovers that Luo Binghe is requesting Qing Jing robes from him, if the fanarts are accurate. He tears off that sheet of paper, starts another sketch with Qing Jing's exact robes without uttering any words, leaving Luo Binghe speechless as well. Luo Binghe nods, correcting details of length and shape, not even asking or saying anything about designs of cultivators clothing, and Shen Yuan has to move on to the... er, awkward part. He has to almost strip Luo Binghe to take his measurements!

Ignore that part. His face is very red when he finishes, but he has the exact measurements of his back, his arms, the size of his fit, his length and width, everything necessary to work with the first molds.

Shen Yuan has no idea why Emperor Luo Binghe wants Qing Jing's robes. He won't ask either, he values his tongue very much. So, he just decides to continue his work like a good professional, embroidering every detail to perfection (he has done two Ning Yingying cosplays in the past, so, it was easy to him remember the embroidered patterns).

Maybe he makes it too perfect.

Luo Binghe is looming over him, his new robes on display, eyes red with fury, zuiyin shining on his forehead.

"Cang Qiong has been burned for more than two hundred years. How can a weak mortal like you recreate these patterns so perfectly?"

Shen Yuan has three options, honestly.

a) Tell him he's a transmigrator. He doesn't have any fucking System, and maybe telling him he's from another world will save him from his imminent death... But he highly doubts Luo Binghe will believe him.

b) Telling him that he's a reborn soul! That he may have worked for the sect in the past! It's not a bad idea, and it's actually quite common, isn't it? Some souls are reborn with some memories, huh, not bad...

c) Not saying anything and playing dumb.

Shen Yuan chooses to play dumb, only because he doesn't have enough brain cells and is so panicked that he can play the reborn.

"I don't know what Junshang is telling me! I just followed the directions and patterns in the design given by Jungshang!"

Luo Binghe does not strangle him. Makes things worse.

Luo Binghe carries him over his shoulder and carries him away. This is kidnapping?! Shen Yuan is being kidnapped from his own shop in broad daylight!? And obviously no one is going to stop him!!

And so, Luo Binghe simply puts him in a room somewhere in the palace, gives him some papers and many tools so he can draw and tells him to design something that he like. And he leaves.

... That is, a kind of test? Is Luo Binghe testing him in some way? Ah, he hopes his customers will be understanding. He's sorry for the delay in their dresses, but Emperor Luo Binghe has kidnapped this seamstress, but he hope to get back to business soon!!

(Luo Binghe is having the closest thing to astral travel. Why does that boy who looks like a young and sweet version of Shen Qingqiu know the patterns of Qing Jing so well? Is he his own "kind" Shen Qingqiu in this world? So why does he act like this and not like a haughty teacher? What should he do?

At least he brought him to his palace. He's not sure if he's the person he's looking for, but, well... he's not really going to let him out of his sight. Just in case.)

[onceuponapuffin]

Because I'm in a sharing mood and have some extra time:

I've put this in a few other places, so if you see it floating around elsewhere it's me. As far as I know, I'm the only one with this headcanon.

After the Job debacle, Jemima keeps trying to summon Crawley. Not intentionally, and not by way of hellish ritual or anything. She just keeps praying to God for "that funny demon" to come back and play with her.

Crawley can feel it. At first he laughs it off, but after a while it gets annoying. So one day he goes back to Job's place to tell Jemima to stop doing that to tell her that she can't be doing that. He means to tell her off, really. But she ends up showing him all of her new pottery projects. By the time she eventually ends up plaiting his hair he makes up his mind to tell her...

When Sitis comes in, wondering who Jemima is talking to. She sees Crawley, recognizes him.

"Ah Bildad the Shuhite, how lovely to see you again. You're staying for dinner of course." Then she leaves, presumably to get dinner going. Crawley is left speechless, mouth open, no words, not given a choice.

At the dinner table, he feels out of place. Ennon and Kesiah keep looking at him funny, and once or twice they try to ask questions, but Sitis shushes them. After they eat, Crawley is given an open invitation to join them again next week. He says no.

Sitis sets him a place anyway.

He shows up.

Each dinner he's given another invitation. Each time he declines. Each time Sitis sets him a place anyway. Each time he shows up anyway. It's almost like she's known his type before. The type who are prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside and just wanting someone who is willing to hold them regardless of the thorns. The only other person ever to do that has been Aziraphale, and Someone Knows where he is these days.

Next thing he knows, Crawley has actually become Bildad the Shuhite: Family Friend. He is around regularly, and even Ennon and Kesiah don't mind him so much, although they still roll their eyes at him whenever they think they can get away with it.

He tells Jemima his real name ONCE. While the two of them are alone, playing Tea Party with her dolls.

She mishears "Crawley" as "Crowley."

He keeps it.

[voxsremotec0ck]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐄𝐲𝐞.ᐟ

ᯤ Vox x Fem!Reader

ᯤ Stalking, obsessive and possessive behavior, voyeurism, nsfw

˗ˏˋ While Vox monitors Alastor the Hazbin Hotel, he takes an interest in the newest guest ˎˊ˗

Vox could kill Pentious for getting caught before successfully placing a single camera inside the hotel

Now he was stuck just watching the outside of the damn place

He wouldn’t even be doing this if Alastor hadn’t come back to ruin his life

FUCK

Vox once again sat in his monitor room working on multiple projects while keeping an eye on the shitty hotel

When for the first time in months

A new sinner walked up to the tall building and knocked on the door

He didn’t recognize you which instantly put him on edge

Now there was ANOTHER demon he had to monitor

At first you were just another non-Alastor resident to him

But slowly you became something more

You spent a lot of time out on the balcony right in his view

Reading, morning coffee, or just playing on your phone you were almost constantly outside

Which confused him because who the fuck wants to look around at Hell but whatever

At some point he started to pay attention to what books you read and how you liked your coffee

His interest in you got to the point where he stopped caring about what Alastor was doing

All Vox wanted was a chance to see you

Eventually you consumed his every thought

You were just so…

Perfect

He needed to figure out how to get a camera inside your room

Turns out he didn’t even need to do anything because one day you brought one of his products

And that was probably the greatest day of his life because FINALLY he got to see you up close

You were even more beautiful with your eyes peering right into his monitor

Vox took a screenshot and saved it to a private folder

One that would quickly fill up

Now he had unlimited access to anything he wanted to know about you

Search history, social media accounts, what kind of shows you like to watch

He stored all the information away for when he eventually made his move on you

Then one night something magical happened

It was late and you were still up

Which meant Voxs was still up to

As you were scrolling through Hells twitter a clip from a porno popped up on your timeline

And instead of scrolling away you watched it

And Vox watched you watch it

Eventually you clicked on the account and scrolled through the multiple porn clips on it

Skipping any that included Angel Dust because he was your friend and that was just weird

Vox watched you through the camera

He watched as your pupils dilated and your cheeks turn red and your breath become heavy

He was so hard it hurt

And when it became obvious that you were touching yourself, the camera shaking and little noises falling from your lips

He pulled his dick out of his dress pants and stroked himself to your fucked out face

Vox couldn’t give to shits about the porn you were watching

Honestly he wished he could mute it so he could hear you better

But this would have to do

He wanted to see what face you’d make when you came

And so desperately wished he was the one forcing those moans from your throat

One day

One day he would get to pull your legs apart and push his cock inside of you

Making you scream his name loud enough for all of Pride Circle to hear

When you came your head tilted back on a long moan

Your eyes closing with a look of pure bliss

And Vox had never cum so hard

He felt himself glitching as he spilled all over his hand and desk

Fuck

If this is how it felt just fucking his hand to your little moans and pleasured filled face

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be inside of you

Vox needed to find a way to make you his

The sooner the better

Sigh… I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m attracted to a man with a TV head

[sourszt]

𝟏:𝟓𝟓 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — art the clown x gn!reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — fluff, art meets someone who isn’t scared of him, art goes to kill u but alas you are … autistic!reader, nonverbal!reader, lowkey a projection of me and how i regress/how art makes me regress lol, also a little theory as to how art gains strength/why he kills so relentlessly as a demon, not proofread!

a demon must feed off of fear. it’s how it gains strength and power. art was no different.

it was his luck that his appearance alone usually struck the fear of god into people. tall but lean in a black and white clown suit, sometimes stained with a strange red substance. face painted white, black outlining an eerily smiling mouth and wide blue eyes. at least, sometimes they were blue.

when he was knee deep into brutally slaughtering people, his eyes would go pitch black from excitement and because his strength was slowly doubling.

everyone who had the misfortune of knowing of his presence feared even his name. all except one.

he’d encountered many who feigned tolerance towards him, some even daring to embrace him before meeting the same fate as everybody else. because they reeked of the same fear as the rest. he could tell in the way they tried to steady their shaking hands, the way their eyes glazed over as they realized they had lost the fight.

but you. you.

you were different. he’d tracked you down after watching you walk home from a little neighborhood party, and he observed you for a couple of days. you lived alone, hardly touched your phone, typed and typed away on your computer with your glasses hanging onto the edge of your nose. completely indifferent to the rest of the world outside.

nobody would miss you. nobody even turned their heads towards your house as they walked by it.

so obviously nobody noticed when he slipped into your house that night. the inside was drab. nicely decorated but it still felt empty. perhaps you’d just moved in not too long ago.

when he found you in your bedroom, comfortably sleeping, he found that wasn’t quite the case. all of the decor, if you could call it that, was stuffed up in here. merchandise from several franchises were nailed, taped, displayed on every surface of your bedroom. sonic, ninja turtles, spiderman.

art stared at it. then at you. you were swarmed by stuffed animals, arms wrapped tightly around a particularly huge fuzzy stuffed sonic plush. the side of your face squished into it and you hummed in your sleep.

he set the garbage bag he had slung over his shoulder down and began searching for something to dismantle you with. the metallic clinks echoed in the room and seemed to wake you up when your muffled grunts became clearer and you began to stretch out your curled limbs.

it took you a while to notice him, but when you did you only blinked. art figured it was a shock response and gave you a taunting smile, baring ugly teeth. your eyebrows knitted together while you sat up, but still you said nothing. not even a scream.

art rose to his feet, towering over you even on your hip-high mattress. in his hand, he had a hefty tool that glinted in the moonlight. fear should have been radiating off of you by now, but that rush he was expecting never came. perhaps you thought you were dreaming.

but as your eyes scanned him from top to bottom, you seemed to accept it as reality. even as you reached out and gingerly tapped his bloodied, gloved hand with the tip of your finger. you didn’t question it.

art hesitated. but only because he doubted he would be strong enough to take your head off with one clean swipe. he wasn’t even close to half of his full strength yet. why was this taking so long?

you turned to the side, searching for something in the sea of stuffies you were haloed with just moments earlier. plucking a smaller one out of the heap, you offered it to the mysterious clown at the side of your bed. it was one of your lesser favorites because you didn’t want him to get it dirty with his white-stained-red gloves. a little fuzzy bee you got from a museum years back.

art pointed at himself, and you nodded with a gentle smile. you half thought that was what he wanted. some strange stuffed animal reaper.

he reached for it, and the cleaver in his hand hit the ground with a thud that made you flinch and cover your ears. almost instinctively, you leaned towards him.

you weren’t scared of the knife itself but the loud noise. art was baffled that somebody could look to him for protection. had you any idea who he was? the miles county clown, was the name every tv within a 50 mile radius was echoing daily because of him.

well, you probably actually didn’t. in the days he watched you, you neglected to turn on the news or scroll through social media. was that why you weren’t scared of him?

either way, his palm found the top of your head, awkwardly patting it with a force that told you he was also trying to push you away. you peered up at him with a straight lipped smile, and gently grabbed the wrist of the hand on your head. he tensed, shocked, but allowed you to flip his palm upwards, watching as you ran your finger over his red stained glove.

you spelled out your name, letter by letter, and pointed to yourself. you also couldn’t speak. or you couldn’t at the moment.

art could only tilt his head at you, genuinely frowning because his presence wasn’t scaring you shitless. he was more confused than anything else.

you gestured towards him and handed him your own palm. he was to etch his name onto your skin.

it took him a second to do it, letting his hand cradle yours while he dragged his finger across your palm. A-R-T.

registering the name, you nodded up at him. it was quite fitting for him, you thought.

the clown grinned and waved your own stuffed animal in front of your face before booping your nose with it. he found he liked the sound of your giggle, which brought him both comfort and unease.

you were sad when he left so quickly, dropping your stuffed bee into your lap and grabbing his garbage bag. he put a finger to his lips and wagged his fingers at you before retreating back into your hallway. the sound of your comforter shuffling made him pause and he found you bent over, picking his cleaver up off of your floor.

you sheepishly held the heavy handle out to him.

you were quite tall. still significantly shorter than him, but taller than he was expecting. wearing a slim fitting tank top and some athletic shorts. you even had some tattoos on your arms and on your thighs. things he hadn’t seen past your sweaters and jeans.

he took the cleaver and prepared to take his leave, but was stunned when you suddenly wrapped your arms around him. for a moment, he was the scared one. but he soon realized that you were only hugging him.

“thank you,” you whispered, so softly and shakily he almost missed it over the buzz of your electric fan. still, you held no fear of him.

you smiled when his arms briefly closed around you.

and then he was gone.

i love him sm 😞😞

[kannouo]

Cold hands/feet

fandom: obey me pairing: demon bros & dateables x gn!reader warnings: none prompt by anon: stumbled upon your blog and just read your hcs about the obey me guys and halloween, your writing is lovely and fun<3 ! i was thinking, how do you think the obey me bros + dateables would react with a mc whose hands and feet get easily cold? like 'dawg who let this corpse out the morgue 💀' typa cold. and even if they wear socks or gloves, it never seems to help much. instead, it turns into cold sweat so now it just feels like touching a defrosting chicken (projecting on this one) anyways, hope you're having a lovely day/night. enjoy your next 24 hours :] A/N: ty for the request and the kind words <33 this was funny to write for as i actually have the opposite problem myself, i run really warm. some of these are considerably shorter than others, sorry.

LUCIFER

• Lucifer isn't a very touchy person. That and he usually wears gloves, so he'll take a much longer time to notice how cold your hands get than you might expect. The first time he notices would have to be when you initiate affection yourself, and he's in the right mood to just sit back and let you touch him.

• You're sat facing him on his lap and move your hand up to gently caress his face. It was just meant to be a sweet gesture, and it certainly wasn't anything to provoke him to jerk his head away in momentary surprise.

• "Lucifer?" You say his name, a little concerned at his reaction. He was just staring at your hands.

• "You're freezing," he stated, then met your eyes again. "Is the fireplace not warm enough for you?"

• Until you explain it's just naturally how your hands feel, he will assume that the House of Lamentation is somehow still too cold for a human, and that you, for some reason, neglected to tell him this whole time. Even when he understands the situation, he's still likely to bump up the temperature on the thermostat just in case.

• You might have felt hurt by his initial reaction to literally move away from your touch, but he reassures you he was just surprised. He doesn't actually mind it, he just wasn't sure if that was how human hands were supposed to feel.

• That, and Lucifer runs cold too. Even colder than you. You're unlikely to notice early in your relationship due to the gloves, but he perpetually feels like he's been out in the cold for far too long. You ask if it's "a demon thing" and he gives you a strange look.

• For all I've said about him not minding, do not put your cold ass feet on him if you're in bed together. You'll lose your Lucifer's bed privileges until you can prove to him you've learned from your actions and promise not to do it again.

It's a surprisingly peaceful evening in the House of Lamentation. You sit with your DDD in hand in front of the fireplace, mindlessly scrolling through your socials when you suddenly feel something freezing touch the back of your neck. You lurch forward in shock, rubbing the afflicted area as you spin your head around to catch the culprit. There stands Lucifer, a pleased smirk on his face as he casually fits his glove back on his right hand. "Lucifer!" In a split-second decision, you jump up from the couch and begin to chase after him, hand outstretched. If it's a war he wants, then it's a war he'll get.

MAMMON

• Notices pretty early on. If he still hadn't developed feelings for you by the time he noticed, he'd likely react a little too dramatically and make some sort of comment about how your hands feel like ice and will threaten you not to touch him again.

• He deeply regrets that choice of words later on though. Even if you are cold enough to make a weirdly convincing dead body, that doesn't mean he wants your affection and attention any less, but it's not like he'll tell you that straight up. He'll try to get you to start touching him again with vague (or what he thinks are vague) hints and just hope you catch on and give him what he wants.

• If you don't, he'll frustrated eventually. Will literally grab your hands and place them on his face so you're cupping his cheeks, grumbling the whole time about how stupid you are and how he has to do everything for you.

• "I thought you didn't want me to touch you again." You smile, running your fingers through his hair. He sputtered.

• "W—well, that—" He huffed and bit the inside of his cheek, shooting you a half-hearted glare. "—Whatever! That was a long time ago. Things change! And— I mean, I'm sure you've been wantin' to touch me this whole time, right? I'm just... bein' considerate."

• It's best not to call his bluff. He'll get embarrassed and pouty.

• Like Lucifer, is also lowkey concerned for your health, and isn't sure if it's normal or okay for humans to be so freezing all the time. He'll still complain all the same when the thermostat is turned up and tries his best to find a workaround, like buying you fuzzy socks and gloves to keep you warm instead so the temperature can go back down.

• Obviously, this doesn't work and just makes your hands and feet cold and sweaty. He concedes that he'll just have to deal with it.

• A perfect target for pranks using this. Suddenly shove your hands up his shirt or place your feet on his bare legs. He has such dramatic and whiny reactions but ultimately won't do anything about it — denying you affection is far more of a punishment for him than it is for you.

You sit, confused, as Mammon holds both of your hands in his. He cups them together and breathes into them, then rubs them against each other like you would do to keep yourself warm in a freezing climate. The only problem is, you're in a room with several functioning heaters. "...What are you doing?" You finally ask. He glances up at you, then goes right back to what he was doing. "I'm tryin' to help you," he says. "This'll warm ya right up, won't it? Then Lucifer can turn the thermostat back down. I'm basically boilin' alive in here!" That definitely isn't how this technique works, but... he seems too determined to stop now.

LEVIATHAN

• Same.

• Levi's hands are usually pretty clammy, but they're also always cold. If Lucifer's hands are "been outside for too long" cold, then Levi's are "freezing death-grip" cold. He doesn't even really notice it, as the rest of his body runs equally as chilly.

• It's an understatement to say Levi isn't all that into touch. It makes him extremely nervous, and the most he'll ever be able to muster without panicking internally is resting his head on your shoulder or intertwining your pinkie fingers together. Because of that, he either takes a very long time to realise or just doesn't at all.

• It's also pretty difficult for him to discern how cold your hands are when they're against his skin, which is just as frigid.

• He's unlikely to notice on his own. He'd only really figure it out if one of his brothers made a comment about your hands being freezing cold that he happened to overhear. Afterwards, he'd ask you if it was true, and would just nod and be like "huh" when you explain. Overall he doesn't care, because he can't even tell.

• Since you don't run cold in the same way he does, it still startles you whenever he puts an unexpected hand on your shoulder. It'll take some time for him to believe you when you say you only react like that because of the shock, and at first he ends up feeling bad and locking himself in his room whenever you jump away from his touch.

"Levi..." You frown, kneeling down in front of the Avatar of Envy, who is curled up and hiding his face from you. "You just surprised me, that's all..." You really hadn't intended to upset him. He tapped you on the arm to get your attention and the sudden chill made you flinch a little, that's all. But he seems to have taken it in the worst possible way. "N—no, I get it..." Levi says with that same defeated tone you were so used to from his self-deprecating monologues. "O—of course you wouldn't want to be touched by an ugly, yucky otaku like me..." "Levi, come on..."

SATAN

• Satan realised by pure chance. In the library together, you walked alongside him as he chattered away about any books he thought you might enjoy. Pulling one out from the nearest shelf, he handed it to you, telling you to read the blurb and tell him what you thought. You unintentionally brushed your hand against his as you did so.

• He didn't react immediately, waiting for you to finish skimming over the back of the book. Only then did he bring it up. "Are you cold?"

• Confused, you replied. "What?"

• "Your hands feel cold," he said. "If you are, I could lend you my jacket? I don't want you getting sick."

• As tempting and sweet as that offer was, you shook your head and explained your hands were just like that. To that, he nodded his head, apologised for assuming anything, and then proceeded to insist you take his jacket anyway. It's a romantic fantasy of his.

• He absolutely tries to buy you gloves, thicker socks and/or shoes. He's confused but understanding when you say they don't really work, and honestly doesn't mind as long as you reassure him the coldness of your hands and feet doesn't really bother you. He just doesn't want your hands to be achy and stiff all the time.

• Otherwise, he doesn't mind it. He'll hold your hand, kiss the back of your palm and allow you to be affectionate with him all the same. He might try to encourage you to shove your hands up Lucifer's shirt though. Just once.

• Don't do it to him though. Demon form instantly.

• Surprisingly, Satan usually doesn't care much about feeling your cold feet on him if you're cuddling together either, but it might irritate him if he feels it in the middle of the night when he's too tired to be fully logical.

"Satan, there's no way I'm doing that," you say as you stare down the demon in front of you, unimpressed. "He'll kill me." "He'd kill me, not you." You roll your eyes as you realise Satan clearly isn't giving up on trying to convince you to 'prank' Lucifer by shoving your hands up his shirt. With the amount of layers the first-born has, you aren't even sure if you'd be able to if you tried. "...If you do it, I'll take you to that cat cafe you liked." You eye him suspiciously. "...The one with Luna?" "The one with Luna."

ASMODEUS

• Asmo runs pretty warm. He has to, with how he spends hours out clubbing in the cold climate of the Devildom wearing as close to nothing as he can possibly get without being accused of public indecency. So you being cold to the touch is a bit of a shock to him.

• He had been begging you to let him do your nails all day until you finally caved. But just as he took your hand in his, he hesitated. "Darling, you're freezing. Why is that? My windows are all closed."

• "Oh... no, my hands are always like that."

• He pouted. "Poor thing. Well, once I'm done with your nails, how about you spend the rest of the day holding hands with dear old Asmo, hm? That should warm you right up! ♡"

• Insist all you want that it doesn't bother you or that you can't even feel it, he'll just act like he doesn't hear so he can continue to use it as an excuse to be all over you.

• It actually isn't that bad though. Being naturally warm, pressing your hold hands against his skin actually feels super nice, and he's always the one initiating it. He's impossible to scare by randomly putting your hands on him, too. He'll just react with a smile and a dirty comment.

• He'll buy or fashion fingerless gloves for you to try in the hopes it might be a little less suffocating than ones that cover your whole hand. They do work a little better, but you may or may not find them uncomfortable depending on your preferences.

• He keeps asking you to touch his back because he likes how your cold fingers feel against his skin, but only do so if you're prepared for him to let out a very exaggerated moan to embarrass you. Can and will do that shit in public.

You lean against Asmo, one hand under his shirt and resting against his side and the other clasped in his own. Every now and again he ducks his head down to place a kiss against your knuckles before resting his head back on your shoulder. The quiet added to the rare peaceful and serene moment, but just as you let your body relax... "Asmo!" You snatch your hand away when you felt him start to move your wrist further down his body. He giggles as you shove at his shoulder. "Honestly! You're insatiable! I'm leaving!" "No, no! Baby I'm sorryyy!~"

BEELZEBUB

• When Beel feels your cold hands brush up against him for the first time, he doesn't even ask questions in the moment. He straight-up drops his jacket on you right away and apologises when you nearly tumble to the ground from the weight of it.

• Beel is another one who will be very concerned. From what he's heard, humans emit natural body heat, and he's only ever heard humans be described as "cold to the touch" when they've been out in bad weather for too long or if they're dead. And he knows for a fact you've been inside all day, so... Are you dying, MC?

• He tries to believe you when you say it's natural and nothing to be so worried about, but he just can't help it. His hands are calloused and rough from centuries of playing sports, so he's hardly bothered by the chill of yours and will just hold them whenever he can to try and "warm you up".

• Is convinced that eating warm food and drinking hot beverages will help. Even if you don't actually feel cold, he might still insist you drink the hot chocolate because he's uneasy.

• He's overprotective by nature. If you can get him to loosen up and stop fretting, he'll apologise for having worried so much. He doesn't want you to be annoyed with him for overreacting about something you're so used to and consider totally normal.

• Is totally fine with you placing your hands or feet on him. He doesn't even react most of the time. You're convinced he can't feel it.

"Beel, honestly, I'm fine..." "But..." He glances between you and the cup of tea in his hands. He can't look at the drink for too long though, or he starts to feel the urge to chug it himself. He can't do that — it's supposed to be for you. "Please? A hot drink is always best on a cold day." "We're in a heatwave..." You sigh, unable to argue any further. Giving in, you take the cup from his hands. "Fine, I'll drink it. But I'm telling you, there really is nothing wrong."

BELPHEGOR

• To be blunt, he isn't a fan.

• He's been right on the cusp of falling asleep only to be startled awake by your freezing hands and feet touching him as you crawl into bed way too many times. He isn't against you cuddling him completely — you're still a good cuddle-buddy, in a "cold side of the pillow" way — but he would like you to keep your hands above his clothes and your feet to yourself. Thanks.

• Aside from Mammon, he's also likely to complain about the thermostat temperature being turned up by Lucifer, which in turn causes Beel to complain on his behalf. He keeps waking up after long naps all sweaty and hot... eugh.

• On the bright side, him being too warm means he'll suddenly switch up on your cold hands. Suddenly, he loves the feeling of them against his skin, and needs you by his side to cool him down while he sleeps.

• Joins Satan in encouraging you to shove your hands up Lucifer's shirt. Do it. Just once. Unfortunately for Satan however, Belphie is a little traitor, and will also go behind his back to tell you to do it to him right after.

• A complete hypocrite. If you pull the same stunt on him he'll make the most exaggerated pouting face you've ever seen and go complain to Beel about you. If you look at him while he's doing so, he'll give you a shit-eating smirk when Beel isn't looking.

• Gets you matching fuzzy socks. He knows they don't really work in keeping your feet warm throughout the day, but asks you to at least keep them on when you two cuddle, so you can match with him and he can avoid any rude awakenings.

The fourth-born had been absent for not five seconds when Belphie scoots over on the couch to whisper in your ear. "When Satan comes back," he pauses, stifling a yawn. "Shove your hands up his shirt. Like you're going to do to Lucifer." You give him a look. "Why would I do that?— And I never agreed to do it to Lucifer." "It'll be funny," he grins lazily. "Look, he's coming back. If you don't do it, I'll grab your wrists and do it for you, you know..."

DIAVOLO

• Diavolo doesn't just run warm, he runs hot. Almost uncomfortably so. Never expect to be able to cuddle with this guy without getting sweaty.

• When he first feels your cold hands, he either assumes humans are just naturally so frigid or goes the Lucifer route and does everything he can to increase the temperature of RAD and the palace to prevent you from being so cold. After one absolutely sweltering day at RAD, you asked Diavolo what was going on and why it was suddenly so blisteringly hot.

• "I raised the temperature as much as I could to make it more comfortable for you!" He flashed you a big, proud smile. "Come now, let me feel your hands. It should be better for you now, yes?"

• "Ah... why are they still cold?"

• He means well, really, but he's very confused. He becomes more understanding once it's explained to him and thankfully turns the temperature back down. You swore all of your classmates were seconds away from murdering one another just from the humidity alone.

• It's not like you have the guts to do it anyway — and if you did, Barbatos would stop you — but in case you were curious, he also doesn't react to the feeling of you suddenly putting your hands on him. Like Asmo, he actually thinks the chill of your fingers is quite nice.

• He might offer to hold your hands in his whenever you're sat next to him because he's fully aware of how warm he is in comparison to you. It warms you up and feels pretty good.

RAD student council meetings are usually quite dull. Unless they were in preparation for some kind of event, in which case you could expect the opposite problem — all the brothers would be bickering amongst themselves so loudly that it felt like all the energy had been drained out of you by the time you returned home. Today, however, was on the quiet end of things, and you were just waiting for it to be over. You sit next to Diavolo, cheek resting on your hand as you idly tap the table with the eraser end of your pencil. "MC." He nudges you a little. Your head shoots up, momentarily afraid he had realised you were zoning out, but he meets you with a smile and offers you his hand. Wordlessly, you place your free hand in his and he gently clasps his fist around it. Student council meetings are dull, but at least you have Diavolo to share little moments like these with.

BARBATOS

• Another man with gloves here. He knew about your cold hands from listening to the others or observing the jokes you'd play on them using it, but he's unlikely to have any personal experiences with them until much later.

• He honestly doesn't care that much. However, if you feel your hands starting to ache or go stiff, he'll hold them in his own and breathe into them to warm them up. Either that or he'll give you his own gloves for a period of time. They're already warm from him using them, so it's actually pretty nice.

• Is one of the only demons to be reasonable about it. Everybody thank Barbatos.

• Won't interfere with you suddenly putting your hands on anyone or shoving your hands up their shirt, unless it's Diavolo, obviously. He thinks their reactions are amusing. It isn't even worth trying to do to him though, he's impossible to catch off-guard. That, and his hands are also pretty cold, so he can and will do it right back.

• Encourages you to do it to Solomon and will protect you from the sorcerer's wrath afterwards.

• Not to repeat myself, but once you two further your relationship a little more, you'll discover he also quite likes the feeling of your hands on him. He isn't one to show it physically, but he'll let you know how pleasant he finds it if he's in an affectionate mood.

• Not a very cuddly person — mostly because he just never has time for it — but on the rare instance you two cuddle, he won't care much about you placing your feet on him but will pretend like he's mad about it to tease you. He'll get up and refuse to return until you literally beg for forgiveness, at which point he smiles and tells you he never truly minded, but since you asked so nicely he'll come back to the couch with you.

Spotting Barbatos in the kitchen completely focused on his baking would usually be a sign to leave him alone as to not distract him. But for you? No, it was the perfect opportunity to strike. He didn't look up as you enter the kitchen and sneak up behind him, and just when you think you may finally have the upper hand— —He grabs your wrists before you can land your hands on his skin and meets you with a smile. "Ah, MC." You pout, but he isn't moved. "How nice of you to join. Since you clearly aren't up to anything important, how about you lend a hand by fetching me some ingredients?" ...Mission failed.

SIMEON

• I have to imagine that Simeon knows a little more about the human body than most of the demons. So when he holds your hand for the first time, his first thought isn't "they could be hypothermic," it's just "oh, they have cold hands."

• He honestly doesn't mind or even really say anything about it. The most he'll do is lend you his coat on a colder day and tell you to hide your hands inside the sleeves to keep them warm — but then he's just left in that revealing body-suit thing he has, so he gets freezing instead.

• Simeon is a pretty affectionate person, so if you try to stop yourself from directly touching him too much because you know your hands are freezing, he won't be pleased.

• He places your hands back on his face, tilting his head to plant a kiss on your palm. "How much will it take to convince you I enjoy your touch?"

• To be honest, that's a pretty dangerous question to leave entirely up to you, but do what you will with it.

• You know how his shoulders and hips are completely bare for some reason? If you walk up behind him and trace a finger along his shoulder or just grab onto his hips, he jumps and does this cute shiver. He won't scold you for it, but he does get embarrassed and quiet if you do it in front of other people.

"Simeon?" You tap the back of his head. It's still early in the morning, yes, but you have to get up soon. Lucifer would have your head if you two miss a day of RAD, but your angel seems particularly sleepy this morning, as nothing seems to be waking him at all. He was the last person you would expect to have this sort of problem with... "Simeon..." You lower your hand and place your palm on his shoulder, watching him shudder from the cold. "Get up." Finally, you see him blink. He looks up at you, a yawn on his lips as he speaks. "Good morning..."

SOLOMON

• He has a spell for that.

• No, I'm serious, he does.

• It's up to you whether or not you trust this mystery concoction he gives you and tells you to drink because it will, somehow, make your body run warmer. He reassures you it's supposed to be a dark purple. It's nothing to worry about. Believe me.

• For the sake of these headcanons, I'm going to assume you have any sense of self-preservation and don't take drinks from strange wizards.

• Solomon's hands are very cold as well, but he insists they used to be warm when he was younger. You think, perhaps it's symbolic of him slowly leaving his humanity behind as the centuries go on? Either way, you both are menaces.

• If the brothers thought you were bad with shoving your hands up their shirt, wait until Solomon gets in the mix. He'll use magic to somehow enhance the freezing cold of his hands and make them shriek because it's so cold it stings. At least they love you enough to let you get away with it, though. I cannot say the same about Solomon.

• He's banned from the House of Lamentation because he had the bright idea of trying to do it to Lucifer. Any chance of making a pact with him is thrown out the window. Good job.

• It's a bad idea to try doing it to Solomon for the sole reason he will not stop until he gets his revenge — and like I said, he'll make his hands so freezing they hurt to have against your skin. Your best bet is to go to Barbatos for protection because, again, he thinks it's amusing, and his millennium-long grudge on Solomon has still not fully dissipated.

"...What happened?" You blink up at the sorcerer in front of you, who is dangling upside-down from a tree just outside the House of Lamentation. From the ropes hanging him there by his legs, you guess it must have been Lucifer's doing. He gives you a sheepish smile. "Well, since you were hesitant to do Satan and Belphie's prank on Lucifer..." Your eyes widen as you realise what he's talking about. Surely he didn't— "So, I did it instead." "..." "My lovely apprentice will let me down, won't you? Ah— w-wait, hold on! Don't leave me here!"

[yestrnight]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ POCKET SLIME ! 

FROM: kaveh, alhaitham / gn! slime! reader

SUBJECT: you used to be a docile, little thing. a blob of extraordinary cuteness that just follows them around wherever they go. but how in the world did the pet slime they took in turn to be some sort of cum-hungry demon?

( this shit reads like a doujinshi, so don’t even bother using braincells; feels like im committing some sort of crime against the cute widdle slimes of genshin; unhygienic slime usage; reader has a diçk AND a pússy, reader also has a humanoid form don't worry; best of both worlds; urethra play (kaveh); dubcon; nipple play (alhaitham), throat fucking (haitham); they’re ALL on their receiving end; ahégao; )

✧.*  KAVEH 

KAVEH who takes you in while you were plopping sadly around in the rain, sad little rumbles and bleps from your jelly body. he’s not so heartless that he’d kill some poor slime who doesn’t even have any interest in attacking him, only nudging its pudgy body against his shoes and looking pleadingly at him.

he likes to watch you eat the treats he brings home. it’s a stress reliever to see you munch on some sumeru roses he brought home, and he pats your blob figure fondly while you squeal in delight at his treats. you’re not a very picky eater, he finds out, but you’re more delighted whenever he feeds you something with elemental energy. once he learns of this, he brings home more and more elemental energy stuff, just to be on the receiving end of your cute lil snuggies.

KAVEH who lets you sit on his head whenever he’s working on his projects. while he sketches and measures, your cool jiggly body feels so comforting on his hair. sometimes he even falls asleep with you on him, and you slowly make your way to his cheek so you can protect him from the hard wood of his desk.

he genuinely brought you in because he thought you were cute, nothing more than that. he’s gotten fonder of you ever since the days pass by, and you thought of him the same. however…

KAVEH who wakes up to something warm and gooey sucking on him down there. as he squirms under the blankets, tiny little moans and whines escape his pretty little lips. the pink blush on his cheeks seems to brighten when he slowly opens his bleary eyes and sees his adorable slime sucking on the tip of his pretty cock. imagine the shock of seeing the pet he was so fond of doing nasty things to him!

“nnh–! [y-your name]! what are you– ahh ♡!” he tries his best to cover up and pull you away, but with no such luck. in fact, you suck even harder, the wet noises of his cum and your squishy body echoing throughout the room. you suck even harder, and the pleasure makes kaveh’s body jilt and shake every rhythm and pulse.

“angh… t- too much…!” he sobs and pushes you away, but his hands only sink into the slime. it’s only around this time he suddenly realizes the slow expansion of your blob body, slowly morphing into something familiar… something humanoid… something… cuter.

your wobbly smile looks so innocent even as you tongue the veins across his dick, and it sends blood to his head until he feels like he’ll pass out from a nosebleed. you gurgle something that sounds faintly like ‘master’ and ‘kaveh’... and gods does that make his dick hard.

“a s-slime turning into a human?” he gasps, sitting himself. “i must be going– ngH! c-crazyYY ♡ stop! s-stop!” using the dexterity and fluidity of a slime, your tongue compresses into something thinner. you ooze your way in into his urethra, the slimy thing bumping against the edges and leaves his toes curling and fingers gripping the sheets.

“ughk, mmh~!” he throws his head back, dick humping into your slimy mouth. “m-more ♡ k-keep going~! agh, ah, ah~!” your delighted gurgle sounds faint in his ringing ears, but he still manages to smile fondly. “g- good slime ♡ s-sucking on your master’s dick so h-ha-hARD! fuck!” he hisses when your tongue presses against his prostate. he pats your hair with one shaky hand and you nuzzle into it. “so ♡ cute ♡ you got even cuter ♡”

“‘m gonna blow! [your name]! ggh [your name]!” he whines and desperately grasps on the hair-like jelly. “s-slow down~♡! gh, nwah!” he wants to attribute your lack of understanding to your inability of comprehending human languages, but he swears he sees the shadow of a devilish smirk on your cute face before you griiiind your tongue right against his prostate.

as his climax hits him, KAVEH’s eyes roll and his back arches into the air as he shoots his seed into your mouth. the tears blur his vision, but he can see his white seed spurt into the jelly. satisfied with your meal, you finally pull out your tongue– getting some pretty screams from your master at the added simulation– and his body falls limp. you smile and giggle at him, kissing away the tears from his eyes, and slumping your cool body against him. 

“th– thanks, [your name],” he smiles at you, kissing you briefly before sleep takes him away again. “do that for me again, ‘kay?”

✧.*  AL-HAITHAM

HAITHAM who is skeptical of the slime his fool of a roommate brought home. he raised an eyebrow when kaveh came home wet with a pudgy slime in his hands. “you know that can dissolve you, right?” he points out, ever the smartass. 

kaveh snaps back. “of course i know, idiot. but look at them! don’t you feel bad for them?” he raises you high and you give a warbly greeting, but alhaitham is far from impressed. his dramatic roommate rolls his eyes at him and kaveh carefully tucks you away. “let’s go, [your name]! this callous idiot isn’t worth your time!”

HAITHAM who didn’t pay you much attention, only ever seeing you while you drape off kaveh’s head when he enters for breakfast. you were well-behaved for a slime, anyway, so he shouldn’t concern himself much with you. but his interest is piqued when one day he hears devilish noises from kaveh’s room, sounds of slurping and sucking while kaveh whines pathetically muffled behind the door. clearly, it’s not kaveh doing the sucking and slurping, but…

HAITHAM who sees you again the next day at breakfast, draping off kaveh’s head as usual. he greets kaveh with his usual coolness, but kaveh, for lack of a proper word, looks completely fucked out. his legs shake as he pulls his chair, and when their hands touch while reaching for the food, he pulls back with a lip-bitten yelp. all the while, you garble incomprehensibly on him.

yeah, no. his roommate is definitely fucking his pet slime. haitham’s not chatty, but he’s got a million words for how fucked up the entire situation is. once kaveh is out of the house, he corners poor little you and stares down into your vacant little slime eyes. he won’t admit that he actually cares for his… once friend, so getting rid of the thing that has tempted him into immoral acts will be the best next thing.

“mm- mmgh?!” haitham doesn’t know how he ended up like this, gagged and bound by your slimy tendrils. while he tries to break free, he stares in astonishment as the blob slowly expands. the torso starts first, before extending into limbs, until the head takes shape and a very, very pretty smile is smiling innocently into haitham’s face. 

“☆♡♡?” your gurgles continue to be incomprehensible, despite the humanoid form. slowly, your cool hand caresses his face, holding his chin while your tendrils lift him ever so slightly up the ground. you kiss him, like how a lover would, the slightest bit of tongue swiping over his lips, but then you pull away— and he catches the devilish smirk before you lean in again and start fucking his mouth.

he thrashes in your slimy hold, slipping away only for the slime to thicken and tighten their hold on him. he glares at you with look of indignation as he tries his best to keep his mouth shut, only for you to slip your tongue between his lips and curl around his tongue. he shakes as you bring him closer to you so you can properly fuck him in his throat. you curiously watch as he gags and splutters on the length of the tendril, his glare never ceasing even though he looks like a proper slut with that dark red blush on him.

replacing your pseudo tongue for another tendril, you pull away from his face and eye his thin shirt. your curious hands roam over the expanse of his chest, and you delight in the softness of his pecs. feeling a bit too eager to get your hands under his shirt, you dissolve the cloth away and quickly reach up to rub his two pretty nipples. you roll them around in your fingers, giving each one a tight squeeze before going back to massaging them. 

HAITHAM, behind the slime gagging him, yelps when you lean in and bite one. you run a tongue over his wide areolas, studying his expressions to make sure you’re pleasing your master’s best friend properly. his glare is more subdued, the wriggling has lessened, and there’s an… anticipation in his eyes as he stares down at you. you’re more than delighted at the progress. this means he likes you, right? you always felt a little sad when haitham would glare at you, but now you can feel getting closer to him! best friends, even, just like him and your master!

and like every best friend does, you should make him feel happy too! lowering one gloopy hand down to his pants, you waste no time melting away his pants and underwear and morphing your hand into something akin to a suction cup. little tentacles line the inside of the cup, and a muffled groan from haitham convinces you to finally ungag him. he gasps for breath, staring at you with wide eyes and a fucked out look. “what… what are you waiting for?” haitham grits his teeth, trying to hide the desperation he’s feeling when you’re so, so close to finally giving him the relief he wants. “put that on me. now.” a pause when you don’t do anything, and the last left of his dignity leave him as he gives you a pleading look and buck his hips up. “please.”

you know from experience that that one syllable is the go ahead, and with enthusiasm and vigor, you put the cup on him and start sucking. “mmm! ngh, ah, too much! ah!” you think his moans are pretty. huskier and deeper than your master’s soft and light whines, and that only makes you sucke even harder. the stimulation forces him to bend his back as he dangles in mid-air, forcing his fat cock deeper into your suction-hand. the dizziness of the upside down world makes the blood rush to his head, and he feels his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you tickle the throbbing vein running the downside of his cock.

“ah, sh-shit, you’re taking me all in ♡” sweat makes his skin glisten, highlighting even more his soft pecs and his abs. tendrils reach out from your back as they glide themselves around his waist and guide him back up. he’s positively shivering as you continue pounding his cock in and out of your hand, and his tongue is shivering when you pull him in for another kiss.

somewhere in the back of his mind, haitham swears he’ll make a research paper on you– on how intoxicating and aphrodisiacal you can be.

✧.* IT’S A THREESOME!

KAVEH bounces himself on your dick, your squishy body serving as his cushion as he lets his limp body get absolutely wrecked by a thick and veiny cock you fashioned from your ever-morphing body. his pretty dick slaps HAITHAM’s muscled torso as the younger one slaps his heavy balls against the pussy just underneath your balls. 

your slime encases the both of them flicking haitham’s nubs up and down and fucking kaveh’s urethra open, just the way they like it. it should be humiliating, the two roommates who could barely stand each other now open and so vulnerable to each other. but kaveh’s face is contorted in a lewd expression, eyes crossed and tongue hanging out of his mouth as he gets his ass destroyed, and haitham can’t find the energy to even insult him.

well, maybe a little bit. “you– ngh! – you really brought a beast into my home, huh?” he pants out, grabbing kaveh’s waist for stability as he thrusts his dick into you like a beast in rut. “you really couldn’t resist the chance to get yourself fucked silly, huh, my dear senior?”

kaveh whines when he feels haitham going even faster on you, and he tries to cover his face with his arm. “sh– shut up, okay?! i– a-ah ♡ i didn’t knooow! i thought they were a c-cute l-little thing ♡ but now they’re–” a sob escapes him as you abuse his prostate. “they’re just bullying me e-everydayyy ♡”

haitham locks eyes with you, innocent and vacant, not a single thought behind them. but it’s hard to see you as anything but innocent when you’re offering up both your cock and pussy to your two masters.

“you’re one crafty thing,” haitham bites out. but all you offer to him is a happy little noise when you think that you’ve made your two masters happy and fulfilled. just like how that man taught you to.

[zevifa]

Here is...a piece from a while ago with my spider Queen misunderstanding compliments.

[elenthyaolyenths]

[ChillOmenstober] Day 10: "Yellow"

↓Companion text (410 words under the cut!)↓

They have met, a long time ago. But fate doomed them.

In a world where a demon can remember and see his other half.

In a world where his other half would never see nor recognise the demon.

.

.

.

“Great warrior, I know you didn’t want anything more than the price we had previously discussed for your protection. But my family and I are now back home, safe and sound, and for that I will feel indebted to you forever. Please, accept this small gift.”

Aziraphale was about to object, but when he saw the item his now former client was presenting to him, his words failed him. The old woman had a soft chuckle. Then she took his large, powerful hand in her thin and fragile ones, and put the gift in his wide palm.

“Please. Take it. I specially asked my nephew to craft it while we were traveling. He barely rested at night just to be sure you could have it before your departure.”

Aziraphale looked at the golden chain and its two red and vermeil flowers, a species he couldn’t recall the name. Delicate, marvellous. Obviously expensive. When he accepted a month ago to escort this family of craftsmen and jewellers, he wouldn’t have expected to earn such a chef-d’oeuvre.

“I-I can’t. I have to refuse.”

Yet, he couldn’t keep his mesmerised eyes off it. And the woman seemed not even surprised, wearing a broad and proud smile. 

“You are a trustworthy protector, Sir Aziraphale. During our travel, your focus never broke. Except this time at the Siwa market, when you met that little one who was selling flowers. I saw you buy their entire stock, then giving it all them back and keeping only one flower for yourself. I would bet my best camel that this plant is now dried and well-stored in your package.”

Once again, he found himself unable to speak – the old lady was definitely too much perceptive for her own good. Or maybe it was his entire fault, being too oblivious. Maybe both.

“Please excuse a old hag’s curiousness, but why these flowers?”

He stilled, flabbergasted – he didn't even know why. He stared back at the jewels, made of vermeil and a curious sort of reddish gold, mimicking almost flawlessly the flowers he saw the other day.

“Why these ones? Well, I'm afraid I don’t know.”

Fiery colours – a touch of red, and a wonderful yellow.

“…They’re pretty.”

. .

Codename: L.T.G Project - with @captainblou

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

♥ Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet ; @naturallyteal

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[foolishlovers]

With 2024 coming to an end, I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to my favourite fics I (re)read this year. I have so so much appreciation for all writers creating beautiful works about our beloved angel and demon pair. Reading these sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes sappy, sometimes deliciously filthy stories has been a constant source of joy. I truly can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to be part of such an incredibly creative and loving fandom. So so much gratitude for all the different versions of them, all the genders, all the tropes, all the canon fics, and all the human AUs. There are so many more amazing fics I read this year and there are so many more to explore in 2025, but the following few have made themselves a home in my heart. I promise they're worth a read! 💜 [I do fic recs all year long, check out this tag for more.]

Date by @ddagent (2.5k, T)

Every year, Aziraphale is spoiled on his birthday. This year, he decides to do the same for Crowley. There's only one problem - he's not actually sure when Crowley's birthday is.

Roller Derby Queen by @summerofspock (2.5k, M)

Crowley skates for Hell on Wheels and she's pretty good at it too. She'd be better if she weren't so distracted by the new skater on the opposing team.

Sweet Nectar of the Eldritch Gods by @brenna (3.2k, G)

Azira writes a letter to the purveyor of her favorite honeys and sweetness ensues. No offence, but who says “by the by,” by the way? It’s adorable? By the by, do you like wine? Crowley

Poor Men by @why-not-go-with-style (3.9k, G)

What To Do When Two of Your Professors Are Hopelessly in Love With Each Other: an instruction manual by Adam Young (featuring Pepper Moonchild because someone has to be the voice of reason here).

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by @mirjam-writes (6.4k, E)

Aziraphale drew a long breath through his nose. Crowley, of course it had to be Crowley. The new guy in the sales department, who would promise potential customers just about anything to close a deal. Arrogant, annoying – and wildly, stupidly attractive. Aziraphale hated him.  Aziraphale is a stellar software architect and a project manager, who is so done with the sales department selling unrealistically scheduled and budgeted projects. And he definitely doesn't have a crush on anyone, thank you very much.

Show me where the Nightingale sings by @sabotage-on-mercury (6.5k, G)

After settling into their new home in the South Downs there are still things to process for Aziraphale and Crowley before they can start a new chapter of their life. But winter is turning into spring. There is magic abroad in the air. And finally, the nightingale is back.

The Art of Human Nature by @ineffable-doll (6.5k, T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

Lit by @fellshish (12k, T)

Crowley takes a university course on literature and surprise! The book they’re discussing is Good Omens. Uh oh.

Paradigm Shift by @hakunahistata (13k, E)

“Apologies, apologies! The time got away from me.” Aziraphale Fell entered the room brightly, a binder in one hand, tea mug in the other. Crowley’s languid sprawl went rigid as the senior accounting analyst who had been the indulgent secret in the back of his mind took the seat opposite him.   Or, Crowley Pines at the Office: An AU.

Feast by @ashfae, mostlyjustgoose (15k, E)

Crowley's spent the whole of lockdown asleep. Aziraphale has spent the whole of lockdown baking, cooking, and becoming increasingly frustrated with his solitude. Which eventually leads him to the perfect way to solve all his problems at once... Or, Aziraphale attempts to seduce Crowley with a truly excellent meal, and Crowley is amenable.

Ever-Fixed by @hkblack (19k, E)

Aziraphale Fell had a plan. Go to school, get his degree, and start his life with his beloved at his side as man and wife. Until one day Crowley disappears. Decades later he meets a man, and finds the love of his life again. Anthony J. Crowley, suave, cool, masculine, in control, unflappable, has spent decades building himself up. He refuses to let his confident facade disappear for Aziraphale, who once almost tumbled down the stairs to certain death because his nose was stuck in a book. It’s just sex, and they’ve been dating for months, this time around. There’s no need to get his knickers in a knot. But the past isn’t easy to let go of, even if you’re both avoiding it. A story about love, intimacy, and finding each other again. (Alternatively: Tender smut, but then I wrote love story flashbacks, and now it's just emotional and there's plot in my pornography)

Fireworks by @optimistic-starlight (19k, E)

He had to get himself under control. Aziraphale needed him. That prick boyfriend of his drained so much of Aziraphale's time and energy, dampened so much of the gentle, beaming happiness that Crowley had always adored about him. He needed Crowley there to support him, to do the things a best friend should be there to do. And, well, if Crowley needed him too, if he had to subsume his own pain to focus on making Aziraphale happy, that was something he could bear quietly. He could do it for his angel. Crowley groaned and dropped his head against the tiled wall of the shower. His angel. He had to stop thinking of him like that.

Maybe Next Christmas by @flamingbentleyy (21k, T)

Airports were tricky business, but waiting in airports was as close to hell as one could possibly get. Nobody knew it better than Aziraphale, whose luck had made him end up in one right on Christmas Eve of all days. Although his airport experience turned a little less hellish and a whole lot more entertaining after he ran into an old college friend in that same airport. And then again. And again…

The Small Ad by @theladydrgn, @sylwritesstuff (32k, E)

WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao.   It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by @waitingtobebroken (33k, T)

There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile. And they are in love.

Petrichor & Parchment by @katnoggin (33k, E)

“Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face? Now also available as a podfic from Literarion  [Huuuge recommendation for the podfic!!]

The Heart of the Forest by Kalimyre (33k, E)

Retired librarian Aziraphale moves into a small, isolated cottage deep in the forest with a strange history. He soon realises he's not alone in the woods; a presence watches him. But as he begins to befriend the stranger that lurks in the trees, Aziraphale comes to understand there's more to him than appearances suggest - and Aziraphale's own destiny may be tied to the mysterious creature with the golden eyes.

in your own time by @ineffabildaddy (33k, E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (45k, T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Loving You Slow by @tawnyontumblr (46k, E)

Crowley just wants to dance, but he's not prepared to sell his soul (and other things) at Mayfair's Hellfire Club to do it. Tending bar at The Bookshop in Soho is just the escape he needs, providing Crowley can convince the club’s owner he really belongs on the stage. Unfortunately Aziraphale Eastgate is not quite the generous guardian angel Crowley has been led to believe. Welcome to The Bookshop, where it always pays to look under the covers.

A Billion Points of Light by akitsuko (50k, E)

The firefighter lifts the visor on their helmet, and Crowley may not be able to see very well, but those are the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen in his life. Crowley has never been one for the whole 'love at first sight' business, but he may need to reassess after Aziraphale - a gorgeous firefighter - saves his life.

More Than by @naromoreau (55k, E)

Crowley would like to spend another year without marrying, especially when thrust-forced to pick a husband. She refuses to cave in on a matter of principles. She refuses to cave in specifically on a matter of not wanting to be married to Lucien Morningstar. But she might need a hand to break free from such a burden. And who knows? She might even find something else along the way.

Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by @snek-of-eden (66k, E)

The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” __________ When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love.

Old Vines by @sevdrag (189k, E)

A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds. [Big recommendation for the podfic here too!!]

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: And This is Jack*ss

Their high school science teacher said "A perpetual motion machine is only hypothetical, because it is impossible, since its existence would violate the first and second laws of thermodynamics."

And Jerk Ford in response said "Hold my beer."

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

While he was building that (and the school was investigating whether or not Ford was actually drinking underaged), Stan had another set of worries.

At this point the twins had both already talked about applying to Backupsmore together, and while Stan was still worried about a potential separation, this time it wasn't because he was afraid of being left behind.

This time he was freaking out because if he went to Backupsmore while his brother went to West Coast Tech, who was going to keep Ford reigned in??

If Stan wasn't there to minimize the damage, who's to say his fellow students and college administration wouldn't chase him out of the whole state with pitchforks and torches or something?!

Stan wasn't protective over Ford in this AU because he didn't need to be protected from anything except maybe himself. If anything, everything else needed to be protected from him.

---

In a random dimension at an undetermined time between the 1980s and 2012, Jerk Ford and one of the many variations of Rick Sanchez pass each other on the street.

"What a d**k." They both think at the same time, but say nothing.

---

This is the same man who, despite also being aromantic, spent an entire year pretending to court an all-seeing, two-dimensional, demon triangle.

Jerk Ford had romantic speeches, lovey-dovey praises, drew detailed, flattering sketches, and built a functioning interdimensional portal that he wasn't intending to use.

Just to say that he catfished a God.

The limit to his jackassery remains to be seen.

---

Most interactions with other people on an informal level (and also formal) are handled by Stan on Fords behalf, otherwise nothing would ever get done.

Stanley had to actually beg Fiddleford to help Stanford with the portal project. Fiddleford and Ford are friends, but Fiddleford can only handle Ford for so long before he's absolutely done.

As for the construction of the cabin... a paid job is a paid job, but anything that required direct interaction was solely taken care of by Stan, or Ford as long as Stan was close by to mediate. Because the one time Boyish Dan tried discussing plans with Ford alone, it ended with Boyish Dan agreeing with construction plans only if Ford agreed to take the farthest available plot of land.

---

Yes, I am familiar with Nine Lives Lee selling his own hate merch. But no, Jerk Ford does not make, distribute, or sell his own hate merch. He was never an enterprising spirit.

However, he does steal his own hate merch. He's done it the times he snuck into their club meetings. The shirt he wears under his hoodie is actually a Ford Hate Club shirt; it's a long sleeved black shirt with this logo on the front:

That is The (Jerk) Ford Hate Club official logo, because they don't hate all Stanford Pines across that multiverse, just that guy in particular.

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Jerk Ford's antics are often compared to skits from the tv and film series "Jackass", in fact the name of his dimension "PJC311" is derived from the host Johnny Knoxville, whose real name is Philip John Clapp, and whose birthday is 1971/03/11.

The funny, ironic thing, is that this is what older Knoxville looks like:

Considering that Jerk Ford is thin compared to Canon Ford...

Yeah, that's Jerk Ford guys.

[seirindono]

What are Sloth Sans/Demon Sans Powers; relationships; what is he like in the other runs???

Ok, let's talk about Demon! Sans!

The embodiment of idleness, he's the predator of many emotions and states linked to this sin, such as apathy, depression and resignation.

We've already talked about his use of illusions (music/ hypnosis) to charm and disarm his victims, dreams being his preferred hunting ground, and one his unique ability (your personnal sleep paralysis demon), but he's just as much as a threat in real life!

His preferred strategy is to lower the enemy's stats (DEF, ATK, HP, etc) so he can finish them off with a single strike or, better yet, let their body slowly die while he lulls their soul into an endless dream.

He gradually deprives them of the desire to attack or defend themselves, amplifying the fatigue (physical and psychological) and sense of powerlessness, of helplessness hidden deep in their souls.

If he's in a playful mood or if his victim has upset him, he takes great pleasure in awakening their traumas by peering into their unconscious and projecting nightmarish hallucinations. Making them super aware of their situation is also effective: they can't defeat him, and even if they could or if he decided to spare them, only death and more pain awaits them at the end of their journey, by the hand of another Lord or bc they're litteraly in hell. However, his habit of granting a “peaceful death” is viewed as merciful compared to the other Lords (or cruel and messed up by others)

A word of advice, however, to intruders venturing into his Snowdin territory: if you stumble upon his collection of ice statues or a suspicious pile of snow, keep walking and don't touch anything.

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I'll focus on the relationships showed here

Gluttony - His brother. He practically raised him and supports him to this day, going so far as to share the territory where they grew up (Snowdin). Demons tend to avoid such close ties, as it can become a weakness, but the Skeleton brothers are a rare exception, having proven time and again their ruthlessness.

Lust - They don't usually interact but Lust suspects he's hiding something from the other Lords. + there was the time he teleported in his sleep onto the set of Lust (live broadcast), putting everyone in the audience to sleep. He doesn't remember but Mettaton might hold a ti~ny grudge.

Pride - A combination of distrust and disapproval of some of the King's past decisions. He remains loyal to him, but doesn't mind the distance between their respective territories.

Wrath (former) - Lord from the past generation. He was close to them and received a lot of help from both him and their skeleton friend. Both disappeared overnight, their names erased from the archives as Undyne took on the now vacant role. He can't openly look for them bc of the King's order, but he assumes they must have found a way to hide somewhere…

Frisk - The kid that somehow managed to become friend with his brother and is now cosplaying as an imp. He has no interest in directly harming them, only playing tricks on them and witness how far they can make it with that puny soul.

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Other runs:

This part is still a WIP since I've mostly worked on a "neutral route" so far lol Also, Demons are, well, "bad", so the genocide run requires more reflection

Neutral:

Mischievous and willfully neglectful, he tolerates Frisk and the player on his territory, but doesn't go out of his way to help them since his brother is already helping.

Pacifist:

Still playful and unbothered, but Papyrus has told him all about Frisk's adventures and how they became friends with other Demons. He is curious and may appear at randoms moments in the run to help the player (tell them about a secret passage in Waterfall or come and play an instrument for Lust's show and put the whole audience to sleep).

.Gives Frisk a bone instrument (a very tiny violon) to celebrate their friendship and shares some secrets with them, like the origin of the bells on his and his brother's horns and how hell used to be before the Queen left.

Genocide:

Same as neutral until he kills Frisk for the first time. He'll trigger a blizzard on the next playthrough to block the door leading to HOME, trapping the player in the empty ruins to observe their reaction. If the player manages to find another way out (or force their way out), Sloth will appear to them only as illusions, asking what they are and mocking them for thinking they can defeat what is already dead, nonetheless sans is willing to watch them try.

.Observes and creates illusions along the way to hinder Frisk. He reveals that sinners can't escape hell until they're freed from their sins, and that the player will undoubtedly end up in the hands of Pride, the King and Demon who rules over those with egos as big as the player's (=that's why he and the other Lords are just toying with the player, they don't see them as a real threat and nobody wants to double-cross the King anyway).

.He's not that bothered by the actions of the player, they're demons and it's hell after all. He might even enjoy watching this more than the pacifist run at first....

edit:

Hm.... Actually, maybe I should rename these. Something like : Redemption or Sinner route idk the expectations are different from canon UT, Demons are USED to killing and stuff. Even if one of them die, a new demon reappear. No, the real surprise would be if someone tried to do good for once, wouldn't it?

As I said, it's a WIP

PHEW, there you go. That was a lot, enjoy!