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macabr3-barbi3 · 6 months ago

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*gets on knees* hello,,,,, I am,, muy hungr y.......... priest vox one-shot PLEAAAAASE.. perhaps Vox has taken a more Catholic turn with Voxtech to capitalise on the fact that being redeemed has suddenly become extremely popular since the Hazbin Hotel was rebuilt ('TRUST US! with YOUR redemption'), he doesn't ACTUALLY believe in any of it of course but anything for a buck. Idk how reader would end up there LOL but I can't stop thinking about him using the most dirty religious euphemisms AND MAYBE USING A ROSARY TO BIND READER'S(OR HIS IF UR FEELING REAL FREAKY) WRISTS RUFF RUFF BARK BARK BARK I'm totally normal (I'm losing my mind)

HELLO FRIEND I LOVE THIS (AND YOU SINCE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE LOL)

disclaimer that I am not religious, I took most of these bible verses and things at face value- Vox doesn't care about using them correctly why should I LMAO

going to Hell for this one lads anyone wanna carpool?

Tags: blasphemy, priest kink, fucking in a church, improper use of rosary beads, confession that is not up to code, exhibitionism? if you squint? improper use of bible verses

HOT PRIEST VOX IN THE BANNER FROM @chefskjssart AND THE BANNER ITSELF FROM @fraugwinska I LOVE YOU GUYS ❤️❤️❤️

When you arrive in Hell as the result of a car accident, the first thing you see is a billboard- there’s a television on it, of all things, one with a face that wore a confident smirk under eyes that seemed to promise something. What exactly it was, you couldn’t tell, but the bright, flashing words next to him caught your attention, like you were sure they were supposed to: ��VoxTek presents VeeLigion- TRUST US! With YOUR Redemption!”

You spend a couple days trying to get your bearings, and you determine that Hell fucking sucks- before falling you had been stabbed a grand total of zero times, and within 24 hours you’d had a knife in you twice. Which, TV did a terrible job at depicting stabbings; it wasn’t a soft gasp and a betrayed glance at the person holding the knife, it was a burning flash of pain and a scream that echoed in your head even after you stopped, even after the wound miraculously healed and left you with holes in your clothing that exposed unblemished skin.

TV also painted a pretty inaccurate portrait of Hell as a whole. Sure, you’d been stabbed a couple times but it wasn’t all fire and brimstone- everyone else mostly left you alone, a fox-faced woman had given you a bandage and a half eaten sandwich while you sat bleeding in an alley outside, there were bakeries and regular storefronts, and maybe a few more sex shops than you had been anticipating. But it was a whole society like it was when you were alive, albeit with maybe less rules and consequences.

You see more advertisements from the guy with the television head (Vox, you had picked up from the newspapers and magazines that littered the sidewalks), promises of salvation to be found in his newly built church in Pentagram City, redemption at a low cost. You had seen other ads, from a place called the Hazbin Hotel, but regardless of how different Hell was from what you had imagined, you still figured that the Devil was bad- his daughter couldn’t have been much better. And the Princess of Hell just didn’t catch your attention like Vox had; come on, his head was a television, what choice did you have but to look at him?

And it was no real surprise that you had ended up here, despite the years of Catholic school and nuns striking the fear of God into you when your parents had decided that you were too much trouble as a teen and shipped you off for a few years. You had done your time, did the prayers and shit with your skirt just an inch or two above the regulated length, and as soon as you had the chance you were out of there, back to the fun life you had enjoyed before…

Even if you did now have the voice of Sister Lucy in your head when you went down on someone, telling you that idle hands- and probably lips- should only be used in service of the Lord.

But Jesus, was some premarital sex really enough to damn you to this shithole? The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find your way to the center of the city to find that Church. Maybe the whole redemption thing was bullshit, but also maybe since it was a church they could give you shelter. A place to hide from the chaos on the streets while you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. You didn’t think you needed food to survive, really, but you would do almost anything for a hot meal in your mouth just for the comfort of it.

After getting directions- and another fucking stab wound, where the fuck were people getting these knives?- you make your way to the VoxTek church, and here’s another point against the Hotel. The thing is massive and gorgeous, blue and white stained glass that covered the building reflecting the red of the pentagram in the sky, Vox’s likeness front and center above the intricately detailed doors. It’s pristine, and perfect, and you’re suddenly very self conscious about the state of yourself, covered in blood with clothes that are the wrong brand of ‘holey.’ But you’re already here and on the steps, so there’s not much else to do but climb them and reach for the doors.

A tablet pops in front of you, ‘AdamAI’ engraved across the top. “Welcome to the VeeLigion church,” the thing says, the voice bored and haughty. “Entry starts at $5.99.”

“You fucking charge just to come in?” Maybe you shouldn’t swear at what looks like some sort of angelic device but fuck, really?

“A small price to pay for salvation!” It says, and little wings flick out of the sides to flutter, like it was trying to distract you. “Come on, don’t you wanna go to Heaven? It fucking rocks up there- Hell is dirty and smelly and gross, and-”

“Yeah people just stab you like all the fucking time,” you mutter, “but I don’t have any money.”

“Plan B then- you can sign this screen right here-” Some sort of contract appears on the screen, the letters too small to read properly, with a line at the bottom. “And the matter of payment can be discussed at a later date, at the owner’s discretion.”

“That’s a little suspicious.”

“You could go get stabbed again,” it snarks, and a pen pops out of the top. “Or you could go to that shitty hotel that doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, with Lucifer’s brat. Choice is yours.”

You have to admit that the pristine glow of the church seems more promising than what you had seen of the Hotel, so you sign the contract and the doors swing open without the creak of heavy wood- when you touch it on your way in you realize that it, too, is actually metal, manipulated to look like wood to sell the facade of the building. “Good luck,” the tablet chirps, followed by something that sounds suspiciously like “you’re going to need it” as the door slams shut behind you.

It’s eerily quiet inside the church, likely soundproofed since you can no longer hear anything that’s going on outside. There’s no one else inside, no priest or other sinners, the stage at the front of the chapel empty except for the obviously simulated sunlight that streams through the windows at the back. Despite the cash grab at the door, the place does feel divine. It’s quiet and peaceful, and beautiful beyond belief. You wander up to the front, looking around to see if there would be some sort of pastor or something to show you what, exactly, you were supposed to do- to give you answers, to show you some kind of mercy in this hellhole.

A door slams somewhere in the building, and gradually a voice gets louder as they approach the chapel. “-told you, Val, that the church was a waste of fuckin’ time,” they’re saying, “but did you listen? Of course not- you’re shoved so far up Angel’s twinky little ass lately it’s a wonder you have time to plan your fuckin’ ‘holy orgies’ or whatever the fuck you’re calling them-”

And there’s the television you had been seeing on the billboards and ads- Vox in the flesh, priest robes dripping off his frame, one of those little hats somehow attached to his flat head. Even with his eyebrows drawn down in irritation at whoever he was on the phone with, he still has an air of confidence and cockiness about him that you can admire- and you had seen some of the magazines declaring him the hottest in Hell, and know that he has clean lines of lean muscle hiding under those holy folds of fabric. He paces back and forth across the stage a few times, throwing insults and jabs into the phone in his hand, and then he looks up and finally notices you.

“Oh fuck,” he says, eyes widening in surprise, and then- “not you, Valentino, Satan, fucking narcissist. Someone’s fucking here- yes, in the church- fuck it, no, I gotta deal with this.” And the phone is slipped into one of the pockets of the robe. His whole demeanor changes- his posture straightens, his eyes closing and his face rearranging into something softer, more peaceful as he looks down at you.

“Welcome, lost lamb,” he says, and you could almost believe him if it weren’t for the glitch that crackles across his screen at the words. “How may I help to guide you today?”

“Um… I’m not totally sure,” you confess, and his eye twitches in irritation. “I saw some ads and I was curious about the idea of a church in Hell. If you can actually get redeemed here then, you know, I’d love to give it a try-“

You don’t even get to mention your almost ulterior motive before he fucking laughs at you, the sound echoing with the acoustics of the place. “Fuck, so you’re a real one then? Y’know how many people I’ve had sitting in these pews that don’t give two rats shit about redemption, just wanted to see the fancy new fucking building and watch one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell strut around in this stupid fucking thing?” He plucks at his robes, the fabric fluttering around his body. “And now I've got a real one. Imagine that. Okay!”

He claps his hands together and a small bench emerges from the floor in front of the stage as he drops to sit on the edge of it, legs hanging off so his feet touch the floor. “Fucking kneel, then,” he says, gesturing to the cushion, “Don’t these things usually start with confession? I don’t have all day if you have like, a million sins to confess.”

“Oh, right.” This part at least you knew, even if it usually took place in a booth and the other person couldn’t see you. You hadn’t really been planning on confessing when you got here, but at least it was an easy part.

You watch him patiently, waiting for the usual blessing, until he stares at you expectantly. “Well?”

Guess you were skipping that, then. “Um, okay. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He waves a hand at you; a silent ‘get-on-with-it’ if you’ve ever seen one. “It’s been… ten years? Since my last confession-“

“No fucking wonder you ended up down here, doll,” he mutters, head tilted towards the ceiling and not even looking at you, “you were one of those ‘Easter and Christmas’ church-goers, huh? And you thought that would be enough.”

“Hey, fuck you,” you snap, flushing at how easy you were to pin down like that, and his head snaps back down to look at you, an eyebrow raised like he’s fucking bored. “Aren’t you supposed to be here to help?”

“Does it matter? Besides, I’m new to the job; sue me for a learning curve. Come on- what sins are you confessing?” His screen brightens suddenly, a grin directed at you that steals your breath. “Was it something fun? You kill someone?” His eyes go hooded, expression lascivious as he looks down at you. “Impure thoughts, maybe? Impure actions?” His gaze lingers on your skirt before he meets your eyes again.

Your face heats- you’re very aware, suddenly, of the position that you’re in- knelt on the floor in an empty church, the priest as far from saintly as one could get and hot as Hell even with his TV head, his knees spread apart where he sits on the edge of the stage and you essentially between them. Images race lightning quick through your head- pushing his robes up around his thighs, leaning forward with your tongue out to show him just how impure your actions could be-

A bell rings overhead and you’re reminded that you’re in a fucking Church, even if it is one in the center of Hell. You had come here for help, not sex. You shove the thoughts back. “Can you just- be a normal priest, please? With the bible verses and shit so I can feel like this wasn’t a total waste of whatever I signed before coming in here.”

He sighs but seems to acquiesce, placing his palms on the stage and leaning back. “That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one! Give me one sec…” His screen changes, words and images flying across it at lightning speed while he taps his fingers on the floor under his hands, sometimes slowing on a particular passage, and it occurs to you what he’s doing- he’s searching the fucking internet for a bible passage.

“Ha! This should do-” His face comes back, expression serene, and he leans forward and places a finger under your chin to tilt your head up, closer to him now than you would have expected. “I know how you feel, my child, tempted by the sins of the flesh,” he says in an exaggerated tone. “‘For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.” He winks at you with that smirk of his back in place, “but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.’”

You blush but can’t turn away with his finger on you, keeping you tilted to face him. “‘Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.’ Is that what you’re here for, doll? Mercy?”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can see the way his eyes track the movement of your throat when you swallow. “Y-yes,” you stammer, and your voice is weaker than you would like, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “Mercy-”

“In your time of need,” he offers, and when you close your eyes you feel his thumb trace over your cheekbone, his hand warm against your skin. “What do you need? Cause I’ll tell you- all flushed and trembling and sweet on your knees here? I don’t think a bible verse is gonna cut it, babe.”

He almost slides off the stage, dropping to a crouch so he’s level with your face. “Sir-” you try, and his grin is wide and dangerous.

“Father,” he corrects you, and if you weren’t already on your knees you would have fallen to them. “And I believe you still have to confess before we can move on.” He reaches into the pocket of his robes and pulls out something long and dangling- a rosary, you realize, and you can’t stop the flash of heat that rips through you despite the blatant blasphemy of what was happening. “Give me your hands.” And you do, helpless to refuse as he winds the beads around your wrists with the cross dangling between your arms as he finishes. He stands then, using a hand on the beads to pull you from the cushion and guide you forward on your knees when he sits on the edge of the stage again. You’re properly between his legs now, the fabric of his robes almost touching your nose, and he’s holding your bound hands atop one of his knees.

“This is just to keep you focused,” he says when he sees you watching where he has them restrained in one hand. His other hand pets across your head, a finger briefly touching one of the horns that you had grown upon arrival. “Now then- tell me of your temptations, little lamb, and I’ll give you absolution. I’ll give you the mercy you want.” When he meets your wide eyes again, he winks. “Maybe something else, too.”

“Fuck, I’m- God, okay. Okay. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” You take Vox’s silence as a sign to continue, his hand still gently brushing through your hair, the other keeping a tight grip on the rosary beads. “It’s been ten years since my last confession.”

“Go on, my child,” Vox says, and fuck, it feels wrong that the words of a priest- regardless of how legitimate he was- are making your core clench, a strong jolt of arousal bolting through your body. “What brings you to confession today?”

You try not to tremble as you continue. “I have… behaved immorally in the past. And even now I’m having impure thoughts,” you whisper, and you hear Vox suppress a groan in front of you. “I- I know the Bible says not to fall prey to temptation, but it’s so hard to resist. I can’t stop myself from thinking about it- about what I’ve done. And about you.”

The fingers in your hair are gone, grip tightening on the one holding the rosary. “This is troubling indeed,” he says, like you can’t hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me what you’ve done- what you’ve thought about. What you want now. Be specific.” There’s a soft rustling of fabric before you, a whisper of air across your face as Vox moves. You make an inquisitive noise and he shushes you. “Keep your eyes closed, dear- imagine you confess to the Lord himself. Show him how earnest you are in your devotion.”

You let your face relax, brow going slack and keeping your face tipped up. You can see through your eyelids the shine of the sunlight through the windows, artificial but warming and holy nonetheless. And like this you ‘confess.’ “I’m thinking about you touching me- in s-sinful ways. Your hands on my skin the way that others have touched me. It feels good, I can’t help but want it…” You feel a little ridiculous even with the flush of your cheeks and the need overtaking your body.

“Fuck,” you hear Vox whisper, and there’s another faint sound of movement that you can’t place with your eyes closed. “How did these f-f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘t͖͖̠̬͛h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́ sinners touch you?” His voice seems to fail him at the thought, a crackle in his vocals that betrays how much he’s invested in the moment.

“Like a harlot,” you say, and you hear a full groan escape him, a tug to the rosary when he leans a bit down towards you. His face is closer now; you can feel his hot breath as it ghosts across your lips when you speak. “They touched my bare skin- sometimes I lie awake at night and trace the path their hands have taken over my body, over my breasts, between my legs. I’ve let them fuck me, bent over tables and spread across beds, and God, I want more.” You let your voice take on a pleading edge. “I want it to be you- please, won’t you help me?”

You let your eyes flutter open, and the sight before you steals your breathe- Vox’s eyes are trained on you, his mouth hanging open with his face screwed up in pleasure as he fists his cock inches from your face, his robes drawn up over his thighs to jerk himself off in time with your confession. When he notices you watching him he smiles, all teeth and dripping saliva, looking more and more like the agent of damnation that he is than the holy man he’s pretending to be. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞t͖͖̠̬͛,” he growls, his vocals once again corrupted and fried when he speaks. “‘No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. G-G̯̯̩̙͆ͣ͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability-’” The last words are accompanied with a harder thrust of his hips, bringing him closer to the edge of the stage, the head of his prick nearly brushing your lips before its covered with his fingers as he continues to stroke. “‘But with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’”

You know what he’s going for, but… “I think in this instance, ‘enduring it’ would mean not giving in to the temptation,” you murmur, and you let your tongue ghost over his hand when it gets within reach, just able to taste the saltiness of his precum on his fingers. “But I think I’m weak to it, Father- would you forgive me if I can’t resist?”

Static flashes across his screen for a moment. “Fuck,” he pants when he sees that you’ve kept your tongue extended, waiting for him. He loses the haughty, holy edge to his voice as his fingers tighten their grip, less of a stroke now to let the head of his dick tap against your tongue a couple times. “Can’t fuckin’ think straight like this, Satan- how am I supposed to keep this shit up when you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a devout whore praying for a cock in your throat,” he snarls, and releases the hand keeping hold on the rosary to cup your face. You waste no time in bringing your bound hands up under your skirt, shoving your panties to the side with trembling fingers to rub at your clit. The angle is all wrong, but any friction is good friction at this point, and Vox laughs breathlessly at the desperate way that you rock against your hands with your head held in his. “I might not be God but I can answer that fuckin’ prayer if you want.”

The way you shift to get a better angle to slide a finger into yourself brings you closer, your head resting more heavily in his palm, and you can’t resist giving him a wink- “Promise you’ll give me my absolution after?” You let your mouth fall slack, and groan around the length of him as he pushes past your lips, both of his hands abandoning their respective tasks to tangle in the strands of your hair and keep you still.

“I’ll give it to you, doll, I’ll fuckin’ give you a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛.” He guides himself in further, deeper, until the head of his dick is just bumping against the back of your throat, whorish whines escaping the scant space between your lips when he starts to buck his hips, sucking to the best of your ability while you ride your own fingers and try to work your tongue against the solid erection that’s taken up a temporary residence in your mouth. His hands fist in your hair and tug you closer, your nose bumping the sharp lines of his abdomen and the solid weight of his balls resting against your chin with every jerk forward. A particularly hard thrust has your gag reflex triggering, the channel of your throat convulsing and fluttering around the head of his cock while his head throws back with a moan.

Tears prick at your eyes- your orgasm is a distant, intangible thing, the pleasure from your fingers sweet but not even close to what you needed, whimpering and drooling around Vox’s cock in a way that echoed around the beautiful chapel. When you look up at him his eyes are wide and frantic, harsh moans falling from his mouth and rumbling through his body so you could feel it against your nose pressed into his pelvis the way you are.

A hand slides forward to brush at your tears, a smile more befitting the devil than any kind of priest taking up Vox’s screen, red lines of what could be drool dripping off the sides. “Fuck, gonna cum- you want it, angel? Your a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡t͖͖̠̬͛i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥ?” You can’t speak with his cock filling your mouth so fully, so you nod the best you can and grind your hips down onto your fingers, still bound together with the rosary. He chuckles low, once again keeping your head still so he can pound into the wet heat you’ve provided to him, the muscles of your throat clenching down every time he pushes far enough back. “‘Repent and be baptized, e-every one of you-’” he starts, the silky skin of his erection sliding pleasantly over your tongue a final time, then he stills. His cock twitches, and there’s a jet of hot, bitter liquid spilling across your tongue before he pulls out completely. “‘In the name of J̸̡̡̟͑ͭ̄͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧs̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅụ̴̴̾̀͟͡s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ Ch̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛, for the forgiveness of your sins.’” There’s another pulse of cum that lands on your cheek as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to smear it on your skin and then dip into your mouth for you to suck it clean as his cock gives one final twitch, a weak spurt against your lips closed around his thumb. “‘And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit,’” he finishes in his normal voice, that cocky smirk back on his screen when he finally pulls all the way back.

You lick your lips, rid yourself of the remnants of his release that you can reach. “Is that what that was? You don’t look much like the Holy Spirit to me.”

He groans looking down at you, the hand still in your hair petting almost affectionately through the strands. “We make do with what we have in Hell,” he says. His eyes flick down to your lap, where you still have two fingers poorly sunk into your pussy and are rocking back and forth on them. “Don’t worry, doll, you’ll still-”

He freeze, some notice popping up in one of the upper corners of his screen, and he shakes his head and groans as it clears away. “Quiet- someone’s at the door,” he murmurs, and takes his hands off you entirely.

You suppress a groan at the lack of contact, fingers momentarily stilling and cocking an eyebrow at him. ��How can you tell?” There’s no knock resounding through the building, no bells or chimes, and he holds a finger to his lips.

“I get an alert when someone interacts with the AdamAI. Just hold on a sec-”

There’s an audible gasp from the sinner that enters the church, and Vox looks down at you with a wicked smile. “Keep praying, my child,” he says softly, “and we’ll resume our discussion on the matter of your ‘repentance’ soon.” He stands to his full height and with a swish of his robes he’s gone, approaching the newcomer behind you and speaking in hushed tones- you catch something about a ‘private prayer session’ and resist the urge to snort, instead shifting a bit to get your thumb against your clit and rub soft circles. You don’t think you can cum like this but it's nice, sweet little zaps of pleasure that start at your core and echo through your body like the acoustics of the church you kneel in. You bite your lip to keep the sounds from escaping you as they talk, the low timbre of Vox’s voice making your body hum and tingle remembering the way he had moaned and clutched at your hair as he chased his release with your mouth around him.

Fuck, if Sister Lucy could have seen you now she would probably have an aneurysm. But its not her words echoing in your brain right now- it’s Vox’s soft “keep praying” that has your hands unable to stay still, your hips jerking minutely while you reach futilely for the edge of your pleasure, to tumble headfirst into it.

It takes a moment for you to realize that the Church is silent once again, and when you look up- and up and up, your head tilting all the way back like you’re searching for God himself in the rafters- Vox towers over you from behind, his eyes dark and hungry. He drops to his knees, a resounding crack on the floor as he reaches for you, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat to keep your head tilted back, and a low growl rumbles from his chest when he feels you swallow against his palm. “Such a well behaved lamb, to stick to your prays so devotedly in the presence of others,” he whispers, his tongue curling over the shell of your ear, and now that you’re alone there’s no shame in the desperate moan that you let loose- the way he says ‘lamb’ is so sickeningly sweet and exaggerated that you know the word he wants to use is ‘slut.’ “What kind of shepherd would I be if I didn’t give you a reward?”

His other hand comes down to grab the rosary, pulling your fingers from the slick heat of your cunt and bring them to his mouth- his tongue curls around them, the lewd sound of him sucking the juices from your digits right next to your ear, causing heat to pool in your lower stomach. Once he’s satisfied, he hoists you up with his grip on them, spinning you so that you’re facing him and pinning you to the edge of the stage. “Thought the ‘baptism’ was my gift,” you say as he lifts your legs up around his waist, shoving your skirt out of the way and just tearing your panties off your body, exposing you to the cool air of the church. “You should keep your metaphors straight.”

“Come on, I’m fuckin’ trying,” he mutters, pressing his screen to your forehead so you’re breathing in the same air. “Didn’t Jesus say some shit like ‘choose words that bring peace, not conflict’ or something? Take that holy advice, stop poking holes in my sermon, and let me show you Heaven.” He leans in before you can respond to tangle his tongue with yours, and considering where you are and what you’re doing, kissing a television is hardly the weirdest thing to happen to you today. It’s pleasant, even, a light hum of static where your lips meet his, his tongue almost vibrating with concealed electricity as he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste his own cum in the back of your throat.

When he pulls back for your answer, you can’t resist the truth- “That was Buddhism,” you deadpan, and laugh when static crackles across his body, a renewed erection pushing into your thigh when he uses your bound hands to lay you flat on the stage. He fumbles with his robes to get them up and around his waist again, and the laughter dies in your throat as the silky smooth head of his cock bumps against your drenched folds.

“You know a lot about religion for someone that seems to only know how to be on her knees for one thing,” he murmurs, and it's both shame and heat that flashes through you at the words while he slides his length back and forth through your wetness, pressing lightly against your clit and retreating, teasing. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up while I’m fucking the thoughts out of that pretty head, hm? Gimme a Bible passage since you know so much, dollface.”

“I don’t have access to the internet in my brain like some people but I’ll do my be- ahhh, fuck-” Vox cuts off your sentence with a solid thrust of his hips, the tip of his prick finally slipping in, and he works it in slowly, letting you adjust to it a few inches at a time until he’s buried to the hilt in your wet cunt and breathing heavily against your neck. “Oh God-”

“Thought taking the Lord’s name in vain was a sin,” he breathes, and licks down the column of your throat. He pulls back a little, the drag of him inside of you a delicious burn before he snaps forward again, punching the air from your lungs. He maneuvers the fingers of the hand still holding the rosary to press the wooden cross into your palms. “Come on, angel, give me something good.”

It’s admittedly hard to think with the way that he pistons into you, hips angled just right to hit that sweet spot inside that you had been missing with your bound hands, his free hand digging bruises into the flesh of your hip. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind- “‘A-All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for- fuck, for instruction, for conviction, for correction, and for training in right-righteousness,’” you manage through the pleasure that courses through you, and Vox laughs, the action causing his body to shake against you.

“Something better,” he demands, still drilling his cock into your pussy, hard thrusts that make your vision waver and your breath catch in your throat- how he expects you to talk during that, you weren’t sure, but you would do your damndest as you search your memory for something else.

“Fuck, uhhh… ‘If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with pointing finger… and malicious talk, and if you spend yourself on behalf of the hungry-’” You lose focus on the words you can see behind your eyelids when the hand leaves your hip to press a clawed finger to your swollen clit, a firm circling that has you choking on the words before they can finish leaving your lips. A whimper escapes instead, and Vox’s grin is wide and hungry as he stares down at you.

“‘And satisfy the needs of the oppressed,’” he continues for you, “come on, little lamb, you know the rest.”

“‘Then your light will rise in the darkness, and your light become like the noonday.’” Every muscle is tense, waiting for the thread to snap as Vox continues to fuck into you like a man possessed, his tongue lathing over whatever bits of skin he can reach. You can feel the orgasm crackling like electricity down your spine, unsure if that’s a side effect of Vox’s half-machine body or just how fucking good it feels. Either way, the cusp of release has never felt like this before, like you might pass out from the strength of it, from how all consuming the pleasure is before the peak has even hit.

The pressure against your sweet spots- inside and outside- intensifies suddenly when Vox tilts his hips, pressing down harder and slamming his thick cock against that bundle of nerves inside, the wet sounds of your coupling all that you can hear over your voice and his grunts of effort. “‘The lord will guide you always; he will… s-atisfy your needs in a- in a- oh fuck, God, Vox-”

You want the face he’s making framed in the living room of wherever you end up living in Hell; he could almost be a real priest with the expression of worship that’s taking over his screen, looking down at you like you’re Heaven incarnate. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k��̼̞̦̞̼̔, d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, that’s right; cum on my cock, sweetheart, a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧl͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, fuck-”

It’s just as all consuming as you expected- even more so as you tip over the edge into blissful ecstasy, every part of your body clenching down, your hands on the beads, your legs around Vox’s waist, your walls around the hard length still pounding away at you. You’re not even a little embarrassed about the echoing of your cries as you cum, the sound bouncing off the walls of the church and coming back to you and Vox, who’s chasing his own release in the tight clench of your pussy. The lewd, wet sounds intensify suddenly, sharply, the evidence of your orgasm drenching the robes bunched around Vox’s thighs. A high pitched noise emits from him, and his screen goes dark when he follows you over the edge, hot pulses of heat into your slick cunt, walls fluttering and spasming and wringing every last drop of cum from him, resting thick and warm inside of you as his head drops down to your chest and the entire building seems to just power down.

You fiddle with the rosary beads in your hands, trying to see if you can get them undone on your own- and yes, there they go, a quick twist of the wrist and they’re sliding along your skin, your wrists sore where they had been digging in this whole time. His grip on the beads had slackened as well, so you pull out of his grasp and let your hands run down his body, properly touching him for the first time- and it was well worth the wait, even through the priest robes. His muscles felt firm to the touch, the skin of his arms soft where his sleeves had ridden up, and the hot air coming off his head when you traced your fingers along the ports and wires on the back of it was oddly pleasant.

“You keep touching me like that,” he mumbles against your chest, and you feel his dick twitch where it’s seated inside you still, “and you can be the one to explain to my business partners why power’s down across Pentagram City.” The building flickers back on slowly, the simulated sunshine once again streaming from the windows as Vox boots back up, a loading screen flashing on his face before it turns back into his eyes and mouth, quirked up at the sides while you run your fingers over his body and head. “Gimme like half an hour and we can go again without blacking out both rings of Pride, maybe.”

You laugh when he pulls out, collapsing in the space next to you, the stupid little hat tumbling off in the process while he adjusts his robes. “‘Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light,’” you quote. “Maybe a power outage will bring more people to the Church, you could play that up on your advertisements- then if we regularly fuck there’s a business aspect.”

His chuckle echoes in the chapel. “Where have you been all my afterlife?” He jokes, and his clawed fingers give yours a squeeze when they come down to your sides. “I know you’re probably half kidding but listen, I could use some of that religious knowledge if Val and Velvette insist on making me do this once a week- the fucking doesn’t always have to be a part of it, but-”

“Listen, if that offer comes with a place to sleep and a hot meal every once in a while I’m down.” You think back to the screen you had signed before coming into the church- “Shit, unless that tablet I signed means I don’t get a say? Guess I should have looked at it a little closer-”

“Oh, that.” He has the decency to look a little ashamed as he pulls something up on his screen, making a note before closing it again. “Sorry, just a contingency- if we didn’t have a way for financially challenged sinners to get here that would severely limit our target market so we added that contract as an option. Technically your soul is now owned three ways by the Vees as a whole until terms are settled, but we’ll renegotiate, figure something else out.”

“‘Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back,’” you quote at him- “you help me out and I’ll help you.”

“Deal.” He stands and pulls you up with him, and you place the hat back onto his head- it snaps into place with a soft click that you laugh at- “Magnets, babe, I work with what I have”- while he leads you to the back of the church to clean up and talk about where you would be going from here.

Bonus

You’re laying reclined on Vox’s living room couch a few days later, wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he pours a couple drinks for you. All things considered, going to the church that day had worked out well. You weren’t ‘dating’ Vox, but he was keeping you off the street, fed, and fucked, so you didn’t have much room to complain. Every once in a while you would go over some common Bible passages with him, try to play out a full confession so he could see how it was actually supposed to go to try and help with the church thing, but because of how you met you could hardly get out “forgive me, Father” before Vox was hard and pulling at your clothes.

He’s bitching about it now as he mixes things in glasses at the kitchen counter when his apartment door flies open and Velvette strolls in. “Vox, babe, the fuck are you doin’ at that fuckin’ church? Your ratings are absolute shite compared to the stand-ins we have and that should not be the fuckin’ case.”

He immediately jumps on the defensive. “Imagine that- maybe its because I’m not a real fucking priest? God forbid it take me a fucking minute to learn the shit.”

You pipe up from the couch, tipping your head back over the arm to look at Vox and Velvette upside down. “A good start would be not taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Traitor,” he hisses at you, and the demoness doubles over in laughter when static sparks between his antennae as he whips in your direction. “And you’re one to fucking talk- remind me how we met again?”

“You sure you wanna do that while your friend is here, Vox? I can live with the blasphemy of fucking in a church but I draw the line at full blown exhibitionism.” Velvette wipes a tear from her eyes while Vox’s screen tints pink. “And besides- we’re working on it, aren’t we, Father?”

Velvette’s irritated grumbling is ignored as Vox pushes her back out the door and approaches you on the couch, curling his claws into your hair, coaxing you to your knees for another confession.

#priest vox #vox fanfiction #vox being vox #vox smut #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #x reader #hazbin x reader #LISTEN I HAD A BLAST

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hughesxmaes · 10 days ago

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Hughes just smiled softly, he didn't move anymore than he had to. He knew this was a lot to process considering all of the circumstances that had led up to this. "I almost was, but they had taken me back and healed me. It's a long story to explain." He states softly, "I can't really say it out loud."

There were people always watching them. He was lucky he had escaped in time before they could realize he escaped. He was sure they were looking for him now and even then he knew not to say too much.

"You can't believe everything they tell you. Lots of cover ups." He said softly.

As expected, Ed...Wasn't quite convinced right away. He looked the same...Sounded the same, but he still wasn't completely sure. So as badly as he wanted to practically leap into the man's arms and hug him tight, it was better safe than sorry.

Hesitant golden eyes stared up at the one he'd considered such a dear friend in his life, but he wasn't quite sure what to do.

"Hughes...? I don't understand...I thought you were...."

#he's alive but at what cost || alive verse #//I am still working on the drabble for this verse on how he made it out alive #//its cooking in my brain but i just need to sit down and write it out #fullmxtalelrich

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radiance1 · 1 year ago

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You know I had this real random au I made on discord on my other account that I logged out of and subsequently lost!

Where Vlad was a priest and Plasmius is his contractually obligated partner.

Except, said contract is actually 50-50 all the way on the scale of a good deal, but meh.

So baaaaaaasically, Plasmius was (I think) a demon that appeared before Vlad while he was in the hospital suffering from Ecto-acne and basically gave him a:

"Bind yourself to me or die."

Offer.

Like, literally. Vlad became Plasmius' vessel in the mortal world and Vlad is free to live his life. Well, whenever Plasmius wasn't living his life that is.

Which is pretty rare but anyways.

Vlad was a goddamn workaholic who spent most of his time working away on whatever little thing he could, before the rest of that time was spent with Plasmius taking over his body and doing whatever he wanted.

Most of which, due to having a mortal vessel and not as durable as his demon body, ended up with Vlad being injured a few times than not before Plasmius got a grasp on what Vlad's body could and couldn't take, well, compared to his other human vessels he's had in the past of course.

Then, a few years later, or whatever, Vlad and Plasmius have been going around killing a multitude of priests. Mostly the ones that have a high position and the like, and having Vlad replace them and work there for a while.

Why?

Because Plasmius wanted to find a suitable vessel for his son.

Which Vlad was totally a-okay, the killing priests part and taking their place he means. Taking over their roles were surprisingly easy, and he's memorized enough verses that he could recite the entire thing back-to-back from book to book with no real difficulty.

Oh, and he also found how to make holy water! And he could even confidently say that it works because, hey! He's literally the guy being possessed right now, and if it works against him then it'll definitely work on your probably possessed child, miss Samantha!

(He doesn't tell about the demon possessing him part of course, because that would be more paint something that most surely works in a negative light.)

It quite literally never even became a thought in his mind to try and use said holy water against, well, you know. The literal demon possessing him.

But hey, Plasmius brought it up once and Vlad just gave him the most, blank-eyed stare he's ever seen, and then just moved on with his life.

And Plasmius?

Well shit, he's realized he's picked a wonderful vessel.

(Usually, they would try to eject or kill him at their first opportunity, which is quite rude since he helped. But y'know, past is past and what not.)

So then comes time, after Vlad's like, 25th switcharoo they managed to find a picture perfect vessel for Plasmius' son, and he's like:

Plasmius: Kill him.

Vlad: What-

Like, kill priests? Sure no problem Vlad legit does not care, but killing a child? Not something he can do, he gets some shade for his decision, of course, but he's adamant about it.

So Plasmius, powerful demon from hell who is used to taking what he wants.

Lets him.

At the cost of the boy becoming his son's newest and first ever vessel of course.

And Vlad was kinda on the fence about this, but due to the contract- in which he stated that he'll do anything so long as he lives- is, well, there, he had to chose between the two.

And that, was how one young Daniel Fenton, was made the vessel of demon going by the name of Phantom.

Of course, he wasn't happy about such a thing, but it was going to happen eventually, so at least compared to the original plan he'll live.

(Can't remember if Danny's fam was alive or not here, so I'll just say they dead as hell in that Nasty Burger explosion. Cept it was more of a celebration thing, and Danny was running a little late on his way there and then BOOM.)

Vlad tries to make Danny as comfortable as possible after the possession, and of course Danny isn't happy about it, give all three of them snark and sass and being a genuine little shit. Except Phantom doesn't like that, and since Danny is the equivalent of a newly gotten toy, it doesn't end well for him.

Mostly, in the form of numerous injuries that leads to Plasmius lecturing his son about how fragile mortals are and some- looking at Vlad- even more fragile than some others

You know, since he was trapped in a bed for years and all that.

So then Plasmius and Danny wander around, dragging their vessels along behind them. Vlad and Danny do get a quiet a bit closer during this time, Vlad explaning that hey, he didn't want to subject a child to his fate, but it was either that or death so.

And that kinda thaws the ice a little between them.

Vlad says that it'll eventually get better, he's been at this for years and Plasmius regards him as either his most loyal henchmen.

Which is an upgrade from being viewed as a pet since he can actually add his opinions now, well, he could before but now Plasmius would actually take them into consideration if Vlad doesn't wanna do this or that.

Danny is very obviously bummed out about that, and also kinda pitying Vlad but is also still dealing with the trauma of his family and friends exploding and then having to share (Not really even THAT) a body with a demon who leaves him injured far more often than not because of his stunts.

Well, you could say he isn't having a good time.

Then, cut to a while later, and Vlad managed to make these things that allow for them to be separated, but not past a certain point.

Why?

Because Vlad was getting tired about Plasmius' wants for his body getting in the way of working through Vladco (a business idea he pitched and Plasmius backed once he found out he needed money) and there's only so much mental calculations he could do before he tries to find a way around this.

Plasmius thought that Vlad was finally about to do the expected 'fight back against the possessor' and was even a little hurt, before realizing that no, said thought still hasn't crossed his host's mind and he's just upset that he couldn't work on Vladco because of Plasmius' need of his body.

Plasmius, once again. Realized he picked a wonderful host, though this time he thinks there may be a little something wrong with him.

But that's okay, he still loves his henchmen regardless.

Meanwhile, Danny and Phantom are ecstatic, more so Phantom than Danny, and instantly use them. Thankfully, unlike the rings Vlad and Plasmius have, they have bracelets, the point extends city wide comfortably, a fair bit while past that if they strain it though.

So, Danny has been having the best time of his life now, able to spend it doing normal teen things instead of stunts that'll injure him or kill him and having fun.

Phantom?

Well.

He joined the Super scene.

If I remember correctly, he was a hero and his father played the villain, mostly because Phantom wanted to play as a hero, but he didn't have a nemesis like everyone else or something so-

Then for Phantom and Dann's birthday (Phantom kinda declared Danny's birthday his because it was the day he came to the mortal plane), Plasmius decided to kidnap various heroes to participate in an escape game that's really just an elaborate ploy for said party.

Some balloons here and there, confetti, a few gifts and a lot of things you wouldn't expect when kidnapped by a villain. Then at the end there was a birthday cake and a Happy birthday sign hung up there.

Then a Tv turned on and it showed Plasmius, sitting there in a classic villain chair with Vlad standing next to him- a surprise to most heroes there since Vladco was relatively clean actually- and then Plasmius going Happy birthday and then waving over at Vlad saying that he planned most of it.

Kidnapping various heroes was his idea, of course.

But everything else, from the design of each room to the traps to gifts and all of that, and Phantom excitedly shouts a thanks Dad and Papa, with Danny giving a quieter thanks Dad, which leaves the two of them shocked. Then Vlad, who was currently standing to Plasmius' side and working through Vladco investments and business opportunities, tries to play it cool but everyone (heroes included) can see the pink dusting his ears.

While Plasmius is just laughing his ass off at Vlad's reaction.

That's all I can remember right now, of course with a few tweaks here and there because, well, you can probably tell why.

Oh right, there was also this funny thing where, because of the matching rings that Vlad made and the two were wearing. The heroes thought they were married lmao.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

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hiswordsarekisses · 1 day ago

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This is long but hopefully worth the time. I was just absolutely floored by this guys words. I have followed him for quite a while now. He has shared so much that has helped me to understand a certain loved one in my life who does not share his level of selfless love, or the importance of his family. If I were able to share my heart with this person - this post would be it, however, he he would not hear it. But that does not stop me from healing while I wait.

When you are actually carrying trauma because of someone’s severe mistreatment of you, and then you become able to understand their mind and ways better - it really takes so much of their power to hurt you away. As a result it has turned out a great deal of personal healing to my soul. And I am grateful.

But what stood out the most to me about this man, was the way he has obviously surrendered his life to the Lord, which is the true fruit of repentance. He doesn’t just say he loves God and his family - he lives it out loud.

The Lord is transforming him to be a keeper of The Word - and the Lord has also empowered and made him ABLE to keep it.

Because the Lord doesn’t just tell us how to behave because of how we were created to live. And He does not just tell us what is expected of us because He is Holy. No. He has poured His Spirit into our hearts. The exact same power and spirit that raised Jesus to life again. He is literally working within us to DO the very things He expects of us - leaving us no other excuse but the “I do not want to” excuse.

Because Love supplies what Love demands.

The Bible instructs men to love their wives (and children) “as Christ loves the church and gave Himself for her, cleansing her by the washing of the water of His Word.”

This man, seeing the things in his life, mind, and heart that needed to be transformed committed himself to lifelong therapy and has purposed in his heart to “put their needs above his own” and become what they need, regardless of what that means for himSELF.

And I don’t think it even had anything to do with “what is the right thing to do.” He took no thought of what it would cost him - except that it would cost him his life - because that’s what love does. It was the natural, organic fruit of the love of God, and that fruit proves that the Father, the Holy Spirit, and Jesus - the Word, is active and alive in his life.

This man said no to his “self” - and he said no to his flesh. He stepped up - and he stepped out in faithful obedience to be the man God has called him to be in His Word - and walking it out by the power of the Holy Spirit.

As a result of His obedience, the Lord blessed him with life. He blessed him with joy. He blessed him with peace. And so much more - these are the blessings and fruit of obedience. All of which he would have forfeited in order to continue to put himself first, and love himself the most.

To love is to look outward.

To look outward is freedom.

This is love. And this is life.

To walk as Jesus walked, and love as He loved, is to SO be looking to the needs of those God has entrusted to our care, that we forget about self.

To look outward from self - and looking toward our beloved. To seek what is THEIR ultimate best, no matter what the sacrifice - or death to our own self-life should mean, regarding them as first and most important.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” ~ Philippians 2:3-4

Jesus teaches us to love others AS we love ourselves. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard that verse ignorantly interpreted to back up “self-love” - as in “we are supposed to love ourselves in order to love others.” That is backwards and could not be more absurd, or more twisted, than by the pit of hell itself. Jesus is saying to love other “AS” we love ourselves. He even says more clearly in another verse (just in case you doubt my interpretation): “No one has EVER hated his own body/self, but feeds and cares for it, just as Christ cares for the church.”(Ephesians‬ ‭5‬:‭29)

Oh we do definitely take good care of ourselves. Rest assured, there is no love lost when it comes to self.

That’s the whole problem.

We love ourselves TOO much! If we all truly loved each other AS we love ourselves, there would be peace on earth.

That is WHY “all of the law hangs on Love, because Love does no harm to its neighbor.”

And if we all truly loved others AS we love ourselves, there would be much less depression and mental illness in the world, among other problems, because in loving others we would not be so caught up in ourselves.

Think about it.

Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, mind and soul, and love others as you love yourself. Love does no wrong to others, so love fulfills the requirements of God’s law. (Romans‬ ‭13‬:‭10‬‬)

One last thought to ponder. . .

If we are not loving others as we love ourselves, then it’s safe to say that we are not fulfilling God’s law - therefore we are not only walking according to the flesh, we are technically workers of lawlessness. (Remember when Jesus said that “many on that day will say to me, ‘Lord! Lord! We prophesied in your name and cast out demons in your name and performed many miracles in your name.’ But I will reply, ‘I never knew you. Get away from me, you workers of lawlessness’ (Matthew‬ ‭7‬:‭22‬-‭23‬‬) ???

“Now a certain ruler asked Him; ‘Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” So Jesus said to him, ‘why do you call me good? No one is good but One, that is, God. You know the commandments: Do not commit adultery, Do not murder. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother, (etc.) And the ruler said; ‘I have kept all of the commandments from my youth.’ So when Jesus heard this, He said to him; ‘You lack “one” thing. Sell all that you have and distribute it all to the poor and you will have treasures in heaven - and come and follow me. But when the ruler heard this he became very sorrowful, for he was very rich.”

That “one thing” was love.

This ruler did not love others AS he loved himself. Otherwise he would not have even hesitated to give them the riches instead of keeping them FOR himself. So he not only chose to love himself more than the poor, but he also allowed it to keep him from following Jesus. 🥺

What good is it to get your way in that thing you want so badly - or to hold so tightly to what you think you need at the expense of your family and everything else you will lose in the end…

but to also to lose your very soul?? 🥺

We cannot love others as we love ourselves - or love like Jesus loved - on our own. This is not a post about salvation by works/love. But the Bible is our measuring stick, and we are told to “examine ourselves to see whether our faith is genuine.” We can’t manufacture it, but it’s good to know so that we can pray for God to fix us.

2 Corinthians 13:5 also says that we can know whether or not we pass the test. The test is the Word. If our life does not match up with the Word of God, are we at least seeing progress?

Do we at least desire to match up with the Word of God?

Are we convicted about the ways we miss the mark?

Because these things make a difference. If we did not pass the test it would be one of the following reasons:

1. Our life does not match up to the Word of God.

2. We do not care if our life matches up with the Word of God or not.

3. We do not think it even matters if our lives matches up to the Word of God.

4. We have no conviction about our life not matching up with the Word of God.

5. We definitely do not desire that our life wouid match up with the Word of God.

If even one of those statements are correct we are in trouble. We should not answer yes to even one. But, now we can check each one of those and ask ourselves the complete opposite. Every single one should be yes, and Amen.

The more and more God transforms us and renews our mind through His Word, the more our lives will match up with His Word. That is because the more we know Him, the more we love Him - and that love causes us to keep His commandments organically, naturally, and spontaneously as a result.

Jesus said if you love Him you will keep His commandments. Keeping His Word is a very serious symptom of salvation. It’s not works.

John the Baptist taught to “bear fruit in keeping with repentance.” Repentance will always cause the fruit of transformation.

Thanks for listening.

~dana jean.

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yuesya · 1 year ago

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One of the comments on the Satoru Swap snuppet got me thinking about how canon!Gojo must be feeling objectively the more he finds out. In this world, he wasn't alone; Suguru didn't leave him, Riko and Haibara are alive, the shitty elders are dead, and the other him's life seems to be on an objectively better trajectory... all this, due to the presence and influence of his CS!sister.

It's definitely a case of 'okay so things are better but also at what cost,' because if you think about it -all these improvements came from Shiki being murdered as an infant. In Twins-verse, Satoru and Shiki's childhood were also (presumably) a lot rougher than canon Gojo Satoru's.

#QA #zenith of stars au #twins au #there's so much room for angst in this au...

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hughesxmaes · 12 days ago

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Hughes hadn't seen ANY of the people she described, but he'd make a key note about the description of their appearances just in case he happens to see anyone of the sort.

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen any of them mentioned. I will keep a note out about it." He said softly. It was no good if she was all alone by herself and had nowhere to go if she was lost.

"I could help you find them, if they are in town we could try to track them down. I'd hate for you not to have your travel companions with you." He offered, he didn't have anywhere else to be at the moment since he was off the clock and all he had been doing was going home.

"My name is Maes Hughes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sakura." He heard other words and figured he'd offer her a place to stay tonight. "I have an guest room in my apartment, you can stay there till they make it. It's not an issue at all." He offered. He'd hate for her to not have anywhere to go, and he wasn't sure if she had any money on her so the offer was out there if she so wished. Though, he'd understand if she didn't take his offer due to the fact they just met.

She paused a moment, thinking hard on how best to describe her traveling companions. There were a few key distinctive features she could call upon to properly invoke the image of who they were. Make them easier to find-- and make it easier for them to find her due to her unique manner of describing them.

"Kurogane is big-- he looks like an angry dog and is usually in all black to match his black hair. He has burning red eyes and carries a long sword. Fai slightly shorter, elegant, and flamboyant. He has blond hair and cold blue eyes. Syaoran--" a pause. His presence had her the most curious-- his dedication and loyalty were without question and she found herself thinking of him first whenever she was lost...

"Syaoran is the smallest of them, he has soft brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. He will be the most worried about me-- I want them to know I'm okay, more than anything." Her hands clutched Mokona-- and the creature remained still despite a compelling urge to comfort its favorite accomplace.

"I'd really appreciate your help. My name is Sakura." She gave a small polite curtsy-- arms still wrapped around the 'toy' in her grasp. "If you know somewhere I can stay to wait for them-- I'd be extremely thankful."

#//all the chaos is bound to happen #nerdynanny #he's alive but at what cost || alive verse

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hughesxmaes · 17 hours ago

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@lachrymosestorm

Dez vc: Yes. Desperately.

"Here." He gives her a bottle of water.

#lachrymosestorm #he's alive but at what cost || alive verse #this isn't serious or is it? || crack #//he meant it literally dez

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sirserpentine · 8 months ago

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starter for @hazbinned. Verse: Probation.

"Charge the death ray."

If the Radio Demon's absence signalled the worst... If Adam had defeated Alastor, then Pentious would defeat Adam. For him. For everyone. No matter the cost.

"Target in range!"

No soul would suffer the gruesome fate in the Angel's hands again.

Ever.

"Fire."

Nothing. No hurt. Light. So bright, too bright.

Sound, noises, too loud... Someone speaks, someone speaks with his mouth. He has a mouth? Senses, seeing, seeing means eyes, eyes see something, shapes. Faces?

Pull, pull. Noises. Not his mouth, not his w-...words. Words. Shove, hand, grasp, pull, push. Taken somewhere, where? Floor, cold. Soft. Body goes through, will fall, it won't. It should fall but won't. How does he know?

"Let him stay here for a day. This soul was shattered before reconstruction. It will take some work. Not unusual... in that regard. This must be kept secret."

He doesn't understand. Remember, something. Something important. What is it? No memories. Eyes, he still has eyes. Heavy. Body is heavy. Curls on the floor. Coils. Thumps, something. Up. Middle. In chest. Alive? Eyes close. Sound. Door. Door closes. Sleep. Nothing. Dreams. Remember? Something. Someone? Pictures. No memories. Dreams. Nothing.

Door opens. Eyes open. Someone has come and they see him.

#ic #(Alastor.)#hazbinned #Verse: Probation #is it legal to be this excited #YAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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barrenclan · 1 year ago

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I think Time Deer by Bent Knee fits Rainhaze

Any song that calls someone a dog is pretty good for Mr. Haze.

"Oh, nasty dog You are choking on a cog in my time machine Drag you along to the times from which you run So you can see what I see"

"I was string thin, barren and scrambling for food My people exiled, subhuman and crude <- hello. literally barrenclan They took my lover and library too War left me vagrant with nothing to lose"

youtube

Oh my God, thank you for blasting me back in time with this. I watched the Flowey animatic with this song about a million times when I was deep in my Undertale phase. Also, yes, Rainhaze as hell, I could literally put every lyric here and they'd fit for him.

"They're-they're these terrors And it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and It's like as if somebody was gripping my throat"

"Don't you breathe for me Undeserving of your sympathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did"

"A drink for the horror that I'm in For the good guys and the bad guys For the monsters that I've been Three cheers for tyranny Unapologetic apathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm coming back again"

"Sometimes I see flames And sometimes I see people that I love dying"

"And through it all How could you cry for me? 'Cause I don't feel bad about it So shut your eyes Kiss me goodbye And sleep"

youtube

It's definitely softer than I think of music for them, but those lyrics are pretty good. It's almost making me think more of Rainhaze talking to Slugpelt!

"Hey Bunny What if I lose you too If I become the monster Together we can always be blue"

"Hey Bunny Is that your name again It's making me laugh 'cause we used to be friends Hey bunny Am I talking in the mirror I only see myself as what we were"

I don't think so! I like it.

"I hate my work But I'm in control I'm fearless now But it cost my soul"

"It's alright to scream I'm screaming too Why'd you think I do the things I do? For shadows haunted me like ghosts So I became what I feared the most" <- Aw yeah

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Okay real about the energy level, I feel that so hard. It would make a cool PMV though!

"He could never stand up 'Til he had to run Finger on the trigger Of an empty gun" <- Verse 1

"Well, she was on an upswing In the spring of life Dancing on a tight rope 'Til he brought the knife" <- Verse 2

youtube

I mean, if this whole post doesn't prove that Rainhaze is fantastic to staple music to his forehead, this should.

What a pretty song! Yes, definitely a great song for the overall story.

"I hear it calling/Deep down in my dreams/The wind is blowing/Something lost in me"

"There's nothing else to do/There's nowhere else to go/There's nothing else to live for, anymore"

youtube

It's on the playlist, in fact!

Oh I know this song! I used it in a speedpaint once. Ah, a particular context makes it very sad for me with Rainhaze.

"Save yourself I am far beyond repair They will bury me alive But I'm not inclined to care I am too far gone now, oh ohoho"

"Forget the man I used to be You'll move along more easily"

Silly, trying to slip another FNAF fansong past me. It can definitely work for Rainhaze, even if I can't listen to the whispering (I don't like ASMR).

youtube

#ask #anon #music #rainhaze #dustfeather #slugpelt #ranger

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hughesxmaes · 1 day ago

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It was so simple, a dance, a night where they could both enjoy themselves for once. They both could use a pick me up after everything they have been dealing with. Especially when the Promised Day was closing in on them. Roy had to focus on trying to make sure everything went according to plans and Hughes was there to make sure he had the support he needed like he had promised him he would do.

Even if that meant he couldn't get involved, much to his dismay. He knew it was because Roy wanted to make sure he was safe and this was something that someone like Hughes wouldn't be able to do, but he'll be damned if he didn't do his best to make sure Roy was eating right or make sure he was able to get things done and just be there for him.

One dance was all he wanted, one where they could just forget the world for a bit and just focus on each other. That's what Hughes wanted this entire time, was to be noticed by Roy. He wanted to enjoy their time together, especially with his brush of death, he never knows when it will be their final days together and he wanted to make it count. He lost his family, but he didn't want to lose Roy either.

His heart racing at the fact this man actually said yes to one dance. It made him feel elated, it made him feel weak when he saw that grin, that beautiful smile of his adorning his features. He could stare all day if Roy would let him, but he never has told him those feelings for him that he's held deep within his heart. He kept shutting them down in his brain, because he never thought Roy liked him even in that way.

Hand in hand, he pulls Roy over towards the empty spot of the room so that they can dance without hitting any tables or walls nearby. A hand holding his in the air, while the other held his waist. This was perfect and there wasn't a place he'd rather be than right here with this man in his arms, dancing with him in Roy's apartment together.

"Don't worry, I am a pretty good dancer, ya know?" He said leading them both slowly as the soft music continued to play in the background. He was smiling back at him, excited to be dancing with his best friend that he had grown so close to over the years. The feelings he felt that he began to grow deeper and he couldn't ignore them any longer.

After losing Gracia he had been healing, but Roy was there to pick up the pieces and make him feel seen and safe. He wanted so much more from him, but he didn't want to ask for it in fear of losing him as his best friend. He didn't want to make it awkward for Roy since he was staying with him. He didn't even know what this man thought about other men.

What would he even say to him if he admitted these feelings that he held back for so long. Longer than he had realized. These feelings go deeper than they had recently, but Hughes didn't realize till after he got married. He thought he'd never get a chance to express these feelings so he never did.

Maybe now... No, that's silly, he couldn't risk making things harder on Roy than things already were. After losing his team he knows Roy is dealing with most things alone at work, but Hughes was here, he was the only one he had at the moment, if he risked that then... things could go wrong. Roy couldn't afford to lose another person by his side.

"The question is can you follow, Roy?" It's a tease really, and he can't help but grin more at him because of it. Their little quips at each other always made him excited. He can't get enough of them, since their very first encounter.

Everything about their friendship had relied on challenging each other to be the very best they can be. He was always excited to see what Roy threw at him next.

Now he wants to know what Roy would do on the dancefloor with him.

@hughesxmaes asked for a dance:

Hughes was walking over toward Roy, having just came back from the bathroom, as he moved to where Roy had been sitting on the couch doing paperwork that he was playing catch up on. They were both wearing their pajamas they usually sleep in at this point of the night. With a sly grin on Hughes face as he gazed upon his best friend, the room was filled with soft jazz music that had been playing in the background. There was a glass of whiskey on the table followed by some water and a little extra coffee for Roy as Hughes saw the other focused on his paperwork. Hughes wasn’t drunk or anything, he’s been taking his time with his drink so that he still had a clear mind and could move around because he had an idea and he wondered if Roy would go along with it. He knew the Promised Day was fast approaching so Roy had been focusing on figuring out his plan and catching up with loaded stacks of paperwork. The lighting was soft and it hit Roys face just right as he looked at him through his glasses. He began to watch the others focused eyes even though the place was a mess in front of him. He always wondered how the man could even focus on doing work with the amount of mess going around in him. Maes always saw Roy for the mess that he was though and that’s never changed. It was one of things he loved about Roy. This man kept him moving, kept him entertained, loved bickering at him at times, but it was all in good fun. He never found his time with to be unpleasant. Sure there were moments where their time in Ishval had been upleasant, but they had each other in the end to keep each other safe. To look after the other, and he knew Roy always was there for him. That was one of the reasons why Hughes fought to stay alive, to make sure they both made it out alive together. Roy saved him from losing himself completely, after everything Hughes had gone through after almost dying and then losing his family. Roy had been there to help pick up those pieces of his shattered heart. He kept him sane, kept him from doing something stupid, because he wouldn’t have known what to do had he not been able to see Roy again. It made him realize how deep his feelings were for this man alone. He loves him, every part of him, the messed up broken parts of him too. He wanted to be by his side for as long as he would let him, even if they were just best friends. His feelings continued to grow the passing months and it actually scared him a little, because honestly he’s never thought he love a man so much, he never thought he would even be at this point to even think about these deeper feelings he held for the man known as Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist, people who called him a Hero for something he didn’t want to be named or called. This man who meant so much to him and that he noticed every little thing he did and would admire him in secret. He held these feelings tight where nobody not even himself could realize till after it was too late when he got married and he try to squash those feelings down for the sake of his family. Now that he has lost that family, with Gracia finding a new partner to help move on with, he now had more time to really sit on these feelings he had kept pushing down. That’s when he finally focused on Roy, finally focusing on these feelings that he was so scared of having. Focusing on Roy, Maes thought it would be the perfect moment to do this because he enjoys catching this man by surprise and seeing what reaction he would make from such things he normally would never ask him. Finally reaching the couch where a busy Colonel had a pen in his mouth, deep in thought Hughes stands there a moment before speaking. “Hey, Roy.” He starts a soft smile upon said features as he bowed his body down, offering his hand out to him the soft jazz music was still playing softly in the background fitting the mood perfectly, “May I have this dance?”

He hadn't meant for the paperwork to explode all over his apartment. After he got home and changed into his pajamas, Roy's original plan was to keep his work contained to the coffee table in his living room. But, he needed almost that entire table just to see the layout of the Armstrong mansion, never mind go over the logistics of how the Northern troops planned to use it. More details needed to be planned out afterward, which included where those troops would be on the Promised Day, the signals he and his team needed to give them, how much communication they would have--and that was one portion of the plans.

That ignored his daily paperwork as well, which sat on his dining table. As usual, he didn't mean to get this behind. With a team, this workload had been much easier. Now? There was a reason for the almost empty glass of whiskey sitting on his side table, partially buried by budget proposals. It helped with the nerves, he told Hughes.

Hughes.

Maes Hughes was alive, a fact Roy cherished every single day of his existence.

How he survived was still unclear. The Homunculi weren't forthcoming on details, and it was clear they either blackmailed Hughes to not say much, or they purposefully kept him in the dark. Roy bet on the former considering he knew his friend's habits and how perceptive he was. All they told him was that he got to keep Hughes for a price: his compliance. The file sitting on the other side table next to a cold and almost empty cup of coffee, full of every scrap of information he could find about Hughes' case, was proof he didn't follow that order.

So was the rest of the mess. He had a government to overthrow. Hughes understood, but, as Roy chewed on the end of his pen, he knew he would still apologize to his new guest for being a poor host.

Apologizing, and shoving himself into all of this work, was easier than having any sort of deep conversation about their living situation, the implications, and any feelings beneath the surface. Roy knew what his purpose here was: to be a pillar of stability and refuge, to comfort, and to keep him safe. Maes Hughes had his entire life ripped away from him mere months ago when the Homunculi pulled their stunt. Now? He couldn't go back to it. Not for Gracia and Elicia's safety, especially when Gracia was seeing someone else. This was his home now--with someone he trusted, someone who had his back, someone who wouldn't hesitate to protect him if needed.

Someone who loved him with every fiber of his being.

Waking up to see Maes Hughes alive every single day was a gift. For months, he couldn't breathe, suffocating without oxygen in his lungs. These days, his system struggled to keep up with the influx of fresh oxygen, Maes' smile at him enough to make him dizzy. He couldn't ignore how his heart pounded in his chest by the mere sight of those hazel eyes either. The voice he longed to hear on the phone just one more time spoke to him every day, the sound almost bringing tears to coal eyes each time with just his name. Every brush of their hands was enough for the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he yearned for more. Dare he say to be held? To be caressed? Kissed?

Maes couldn't want him, though. Especially not now. His life was in flames. He didn't need the Flame Alchemist adding more to it.

Thus, Roy did what he spent years doing: he put those feelings away, and he worked. His pen stayed in his mouth as he grabbed the budget proposal. Wait, hadn't he already read this? He felt like he read this one earlier. Where were his notes? Right, he didn't make any because he got distracted. This one was simple anyway: no way in hell was he approving this budget. Now, to write that in a professional way...

When did Hughes come into the room? A minute ago? He said something too. It took a minute or so for Roy to register his name, his pen not moving as he brought his gaze up.

"Hmm?" What was he... bowing? Why was he--oh, the music. Right, he turned that on a while ago to see if it would help him focus. Dark eyes widened as they stared up. He wanted to dance? But he had to--but he needed--he couldn't--why? Why did Hughes ask him to dance of all things? They never danced. Why? And why now? He was--he had to--

But, Hughes smiled at him, and Roy couldn't say no. He couldn't say no to that smile, those eyes, this man wanting to hold his hand--not when it was all he ever wanted. Putting his pen and papers to the side, he gave his hand to Hughes so he could pull him up.

"All right, I'll humor you," he replied with a grin, "I could use the break anyway. But you better know how to lead."

Hopefully, his little joke hid the fact that his heart raced, and his cheeks threatened to turn scarlet. This was fine. Just one dance.

#flameleads #he's alive but at what cost || alive verse #long post tw #//these two give me liiiiiiifeeee #//god I word vom lol #//anyways here we go I am so excited eheheheh #//one day ill think of a tag for them--#bond ; where you are is where i belong [ flameleads ]

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