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the-californicationist · 3 months ago

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Cali's Kinktober: Day 17

Kinktober Masterlist vox nihili - "voiceless" Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader Kinks > demons, face fucking, come inflation, dubcon Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

As an experienced witch, you decide to summon a powerful demon because you need his help, but the only way you can get his energy is by swallowing his come.

Warning: some dubcon, some actual goofiness, some come inflation; you know the drill. Don't like it? Don't read it!

You were prepared this time. You had bought the best supplies from very reputable sources. You’d mapped out the star charts. You’d articulated the spleens. Everything was in its rightful place. You were summoning a demon tonight, or you were hanging up your grimoire for good.

Ever since you’d discovered you had found a true Book of the Beyond, you’d practiced with it. You’d managed small things - imps, fairies, the odd incubus here and there - but, you wanted power. And true power came at a price. You had made a sacrifice or two over the years, and if you were being honest, sacrificial chicken fried up in a pan just like the real thing. So, it never went to waste. But, it just wasn’t cutting it.

So, you switched over to blood magic. Now, as you sat on your wooden floor, surrounded by candles and runes and attuned crystals, you took your blade in your hands and cut your palm to drip your own blood onto the bright white, chalk pentagram in the middle of the magic circle you’d created.

This was going to work. It had to. You were going to be the most powerful witch in the whole wide… wait.

What is that?

Your blood had created a small portal, and through it came a huge, dark hand.

Out of the floor in your den, a huge Arch Demon crawled into your space, steaming from the heat of Hell, snarling with vicious fangs, and yet looking like the most handsome man you’d ever seen in your life.

When he finally made it to the surface, you looked down at his legs; the furry, cloven hooves making ruts in your hardwoods. His tail swished back and forth, and he held a black, iron trident in his right hand. He was fully nude, his body carved from marble, nearly seven feet tall, with black, twisting horns that sat low on his head. His chest was broad and well-muscled, and his belly rounded right down into a swinging, engorged, uncut dick that was as big as your arm… soft.

“Hail!” You said, repeating your memorized mantra like you were supposed to, “Demon of the Underdark, Ruler of Great and Powerful Evil, I have summ–”

“Wha’s goin’ on in here, love?” The demon sounded… British?

“Well, I was reciting my mantra to summon you to this plane, my lord, just as the great tomes have des–”

“You summoned me?” He cackled, dark and deep, “Is that what this is? Oh, fuck me. Tha’s so adorable, babes.”

“Adorable? I need your powers, demon. Together, we will control the entire realm! Pray, tell me your name that I might write it in my book of magic.”

“Are you mad, love? A screw loose up there? These candles are from the department store, and I’m not sure what that is, but it’s definitely not eye of newt, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the demon chuckled, crossing his arms over his hulking chest, smiling down at you, “But, the name’s Gaz. Write it anywhere you want.”

“I just…” You felt tears spring to your eyes, trying to fight the frustration, “I always get so close to doing it right! The spells, the incantations… I even used the right runes this time. But, I still don’t have my true powers.”

“And what powers would you like to have, pet?” Gaz furrowed his brow as he looked at you, considering you with more regard, using his thumb to raise your chin up so he could see your face.

“I want to be a Master Summoner,” you sniffed, trying not to let your trembling lip give away your desperation.

“Ahh,” Gaz nodded knowingly, placing his hands on his hips, biting into his full bottom lip, “I think you’re missing a key element of your spell, babes.”

“What’s that? Please, my lord, I will do anything to know your secrets,” you prostrated yourself before him, your hands nearly touching his black hooves as you splayed yourself on the ground.

He bent down and pulled you up to your knees, shaking his head,

“It’s no secret, love. Demons only come when they know there are souls to harvest. I’ve come for yours, sweet as it is, but if you want to attract more of my kind, you must have more souls.”

“How do I get more souls?” You asked, watching his deep brown eyes calculating and manipulating the world around him, figuring just how to get what he wanted.

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss you on your pouting lips, immediately forcing his slithering, forked tongue into your mouth, plunging through your throat, testing its depth.

You choked around its soft, writhing form, but you let him devour you, feeling yourself swell with lust between your legs. He pulled away with a pleased moan.

“I can put them in you,” Gaz purred, standing tall again with a dark look in his eyes. He reached beneath the behemoth that was his cock and fondled his heavy, melon-sized balls, “I’ve got plenty in here. Just need to make sure they stay inside your body where you can keep them safe, pretty witch.”

“Whatever you believe will work, my lord,” you peered up at him, trying to look obedient and worthy of receiving dark powers, “I am your humble servant.”

“C’mere,” he beckoned you, and you crawled on your hands and knees to kneel before him, hanging your head in deference.

Gaz used his demonic paw to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back, stretching your neck and bending it at a terrible angle. You gasped, hissing from the sudden pain. Then, he held your head in place and began to rub the oily body of his demon cock against your face, dragging it over your nose and mouth, letting the head drool across your cheek.

“I think we should keep them in your belly, love. Are you gonna suck them out of me, or do I need to put them there myself?” His voice was a jagged growl.

You looked up at him and stuck out your tongue, using both of your hands to massage and rub his cock all over your face, letting your tongue lick the fire and brimstone smokey taste from his shaft. You found the head at the end of his long length, and you suckled away at the shining, dripping precome that oozed from his slit.

The only problem was, you weren’t sure how to fit this huge cock into your mouth. You made a feeble attempt at sinking his head between your cheeks, and he chuckled at you, guiding himself a little deeper, making your jaw ache from his intrusion.

“Tha’s it, lovie. Gotta work for it, babe.”

“Mm hmm-nm,” you told him.

“Oh, yeah? More, you say…” He winked, watching your eyes widen with concern, and he took both of his terrible fists, curled them into your hair on the back of your skull.

Decisively, and with a steady strength, Gaz shoved his cock through your stretched lips, past your tongue, and rammed it against your soft palate, making you gag against him, your body convulsing, trying to stop him from going any further. The demon snarled,

“Now, suck. Show me your true powers, witch.”

You were bolstered by his belief in you, even if you also felt like your jaw was going to dislocate itself from your face. When your eyes peered down your nose to map out just how much more cock you needed to swallow, you shivered. But, you were going to be a Master Summoner, and you weren’t giving up that easily.

You began to suck in long, aching pulls, breathing through your nose, working your head back and forth with Gaz’s help, massaging his wet tip until it was practically bursting with dewy drops of his slick. You swallowed it down your throat, and you were surprised at how comforted you felt by the sensation of his warm fluid slipping down into your empty stomach.

“Good… so good,” Gaz rumbled with a pleased resonance, “Are you ready for me to fuck this tight little throat of yours?”

“Mngh! Nhuhmph!” You tried to shake your head back and forth, but his heavy prick had hardened, and you couldn’t move or turn your head at all. You were trapped on him, stuck in place, primed and ready for your mouth to be claimed by a demon.

“I knew you would be,” he smiled sinisterly, taking a step forward and shoving his cockhead past your palate and into your throat, feeding himself down your neck and stretching you in places you were almost positive you should not have been stretched.

The sting made your eyes well up with tears, flowing freely across your temples, and you tried to shut them to clear some of the pain, but your hellish master used his hand to slap your cheek twice in quick succession, punishing you for it, his voice a sinful command,

“Eyes on me, you fuckin’ slag. Power hungry girls don’t get to be shy. Face your challenges, witch.”

You looked up at him, finding that dark defiance within you. He was right. You did hunger for power, and you wanted him to fill your belly full of souls so that you could control the demon army of your destiny. This was your time to shine.

You wanted to impress him, so you stared into his gaze and sank yourself even deeper down onto his dick, gagging violently as you tried to take him. It felt like his cock was in your chest.

“Ooh, yes,” Gaz grinned with sharp, white teeth and fangs, proud of your fury, “Tha’s it, babes. More. Take more of me.”

You felt him press himself down and down and down, all your hopes of taking one last breath were dashed, and you could only wriggle helplessly on the end of his long rod like a fish on a hook, caught and without any chance of escape.

Maybe he would kill you and take your soul to Hell, you thought. He was a demon after all. But, he wasn’t done with you. Gaz watched you struggle to remain conscious, trying to breathe as he rammed himself in and out of your throat, fucking your face with reckless need. Then, he pulled himself out of you just enough for you to suck in a ragged, drooling breath, and he held himself there, watching you carefully.

“There,” Gaz purred, petting the same cheek he had so violently abused, “Breathe, pet. Better make it count.”

You were crying from the desperation, unsure of how to get your lungs to feel even the slightest pull of relief, trying to suck in air through the thick drool and slick precome that coated your nose and mouth.

Then, he pet your head and sighed,

“That’s enough for now.”

He was back to his pounding. You were taking him all the way down to his swollen root now, and his black curling pubic hair brushed against your nose and chin. You used your hands to fondle his swinging sack, massaging his balls, coaxing them to dump their many souls into your willing body. You were preparing to be a vessel for a demon, and the feeling between your legs let you know just how much that idea turned you on.

“Suck!” Gaz shouted, slamming his cock through your mouth, “Suck me harder, you filthy little bitch. Suck me like your life depends on it,” he leaned his head down and made his eyes flash red, “Because it does.”

You wailed, but it came out like a moan, trying so hard to please him, sucking him when you had the ability to do so, but for the most part, you were nothing more than his warm cocksleeve.

He buried your face in his pubes, holding your head down as you thrashed for air, pushing at his furry cervine legs for freedom, and then… you stopped. You felt euphoric. Your mind stopped fighting as soon as you felt the molten hot stream of Gaz’s viscous demon come filling your belly.

“Oh, fuck! Yes,” he moaned, smiling sickly, trembling and shaking above you, keeping your head pressed down, forcing you to take him as deep as you could, “Swallow it all, witch. Drink up all these fuckin’ souls.”

You swallowed and took in as much as you could. He had been pumping and throbbing inside of your mouth for so long now, you could actually feel the weight of his seed inside of yourself, and it made you feel so powerful. You rubbed your lower belly, rounded from the creamy gulps of demon come that was being stuffed inside of you, enjoying how full you were.

Then, all of a sudden, Gaz released you, raking himself out of your throat, bringing strings of come and drool and spit with him. Your body clenched, gagging and coughing as he left you empty, your throat feeling like it had been burned. You could taste his spend on your tongue, and you sat back, panting, trying to let the oxygen get into your brain again.

“Mmm,” Gaz moaned, jerking his softening prick in his huge hands, taking the tip and rubbing its sticky remnants all over your face, “Such a good little summoner. You summoned my come right into your tummy, didn’t you, slut?”

“Yes, my lord,” you rasped.

“Does my nasty witch wan–” Gaz’s salacious comment was interrupted by the portal reopening. You both slid away from it, unsure of who or what was coming through.

“Gaz?” A demon with a tall mohawk and long, straight horns that went back across his head, squeezed himself through the open gap in your magic portal, “Mate, where did ye run off to? Didnae even finish your third torture sesh. Oh! Oh… what’ve you got here?”

The apparently Scottish demon startled you, and his gaze was unsettling. He stared at you like he wanted to eat your bones for supper.

“It worked!” You celebrated, “Oh, thank you, my lord. The souls you gave me have summoned another demon!”

“What?” Gaz said, “Uh, no… this is Soap, and he was jus–”

“Summoned? I wasnae summoned here, lass. What was supposed to work?”

“The souls,” you explained smugly, “Lord Gaz has filled my belly with his seed, and he told me that it contains a multitude of souls that I can use to attract other, more powerful demons.”

“He told you that his fuckin’ spunk was full of souls,” Soap asked, his face curling into a boyish grin, “And you believed him.”

You nodded. Gaz sighed, waiting for the next quip that he knew was on its way out of the other demon’s mouth.

“Well, bonnie,” Soap sauntered over to you, jerking his own immense phallus, “Mine’s got twice as many as his does. Hope you saved room for dessert.”

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eldritch-spouse · 7 months ago

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Me to the imps: For breakfast, i would like one strawberry flavoured Vesper, slathered in honey...and extra cream.

" My Queen- " Lacai looks up at you with a frown after an imp rushes in to whisper something in his ear. " I'm afraid we're out of cream. "

" OUT OF CREAM?! " You shout, as if the mere notion was preposterous.

" I'm afraid yes, your lusciousness. " Solemn nodding.

" How can this be?! Explain yourself! "

A bead of sweat forms on his forehead, the slightest tremble on that smug smile. " W- Well... You kind of are one of the few people that actually still wants to eat physical food in the royal mansion, we figured you'd drop the habit after your transformation, so the stock... "

A heeled foot stomps on marble tiles. " Speak louder, imp. "

" This is a grave miscalculation from our part, my Queen, it won't happen again, I assure you. " Lacai coughs.

" I'll hold you to that. " A hand comes to press on your temple, a great headache forming at this massive inconvenience.

" ... My Queen? "

" Make some cream then. "

" Pardon? "

" You heard me, I want him soaked. "

Lacai stares off, likely calculating how many people he's going to have to call to accomplish your breakfast order.

" Of course, your juiciness... "

You can hear the head imp shifting the fabric of his pants as he leaves, the delighted squeal of your husband-King following a few minutes afterwards.

#Lacai oc #Vesper oc #tce rp ask

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shaleimpdaily · 21 days ago

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Day 8: birthday!

its my bday today! kind of rushed phone art but sick and don't really have time or motivation for more than this qq,,,

#shale imp daily #mod 💫#◼️digital #homestuck #homestuck imp #marble imp

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the-wizard-of-marbles · 2 years ago

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Seems like the perfect place to make my debut!

Hello all! I’m the Marble Wizard!

MANCALA SETS FOR EVERYONE

hi is there like a union of small wizard blogs? how do i find other small wizard blogs? if you run one please shoot me a message! i'd love to follow you

#wizard posting #long post #marble wizard #formerly marble imp

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xo-arcie · 17 days ago

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lost in a haze

Summary: Alastor isn't sure what to make of Lucifer. Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: m/m, gay pining in hell, masturbation, blowjob, handjob, fingering, spit as lube to start, unprotected bathroom sex, Lucifer is a fucking top let's be ffr Author's Note: Banner artwork credit! Rewrite and repost from my old blog. Enjoy!

The air was heavy in the steam filled bathroom, though Alastor no longer felt the heat from the shower that poured over him. His mind was taut with panting breaths as he held one hand flat to the marble that only the King of Hell would have tiled from floor to ceiling, while his other hand pumped the length of his cock, swollen and aching for release.

It was a fruitless chase, but he continued still with a determination to mollify what had settled into the pit of his stomach since he first arrived, nestling behind the stitches that now lined across his abdomen and gnawing at his organs.

This started when Alastor first woke up in an unrecognizable room, pristine with the softest black satin sheets. It was the knock at the door that pulled him awake, his bleary-eyed focus drawn to watch as Lucifer walked in without hesitation. It was unsettling how he was not wearing the narrowed expression sneered across his pale features, but in that moment seemed bright, almost apathetic as he looked Alastor over.

That look festered an unease that began to mull beneath Alastor’s skin.

Lucifer was holding a tray and watching as the Imp that trailed his steps scurried to place a pillow across Alastor’s lap. “Your breakfast,” he nearly chirped, moving to place the tray to balance. “I wasn’t sure what you would be in the mood for, so I went with a classic eggs benedict, adding some potatoes and sausage patties.”

It was surreal. Alastor could feel the warmth seeping through onto his lap, pleasant and partnered with the savory smells of the prepared meal. His hunger rumbled with a ferocity that throbbed through his sutures and he tipped his chin to see how they ran diagonal from his chest to his hip.

“What happened?” His voice cracked with the question.

Alastor vaguely remembered his staggered steps back towards the broken radio tower. His wheezing rattled throughout as he struggled to regain his breath and the overwhelming smell of iron, red and thick, spilling as he moved; he fumbled for whatever supplies he could find to try and staunch the bleeding.

And then…nothing, but this is where Lucifer filled in.

He detailed how he followed a trail of blood that led to Alastor, finding him closer to second death than life. Lucifer’s version ended with the heroic return back to his home where he could carefully tend to Alastor.

Alastor could only stare, allowing the silence to settle over as he processed these words. Before this, he recalled the animosity that burned from the devil with their first meet up in the hotel lobby. The memory was almost comical with the sheepish display Lucifer was showing him now.

It prickled his nerves, this unease now coursing hot through Alastor’s veins.

“There was some concern at first,” Lucifer continued, either blissfully or blatantly unaware of the discomfort that was smeared across Alastor, “since your injuries were caused by an angelic weapon and all.” There was a shy smile that curled on the devil’s lips. “But you seem to be healing up nicely.”

Alastor was wordless; only the low gurgle from his stomach punctuated his quiet.

Lucifer blinked. “I’ll, uh, just leave you to eat then.” He dismissed the Imp and moved to follow, pausing, something twisting across his face. Alastor felt his breath caught in his throat but Lucifer said nothing and left him alone.

The unease remained behind with a slow curdle of emotions that began to braise beneath, rattling his bones as he recovered. It held a tensity that pulled at Alastor, both aimless and wanting, a persistent bedevilment that carried with him in the manor and flaring hotly with every awkward interaction he shared with devil day-after-day.

And all the while, Lucifer seemed unaffected.

While he healed, Alastor now found he had the idle time to study Lucifer, truly, thoroughly from every stitch seamlessly tailored to his lithe figure and trimmed waist to the almost mischievous smile that framed his sharp teeth. He had a stilting grace with his regality, a performative switch whenever he entered the room to check on Alastor, bringing his burning proximity that amplified whenever his gaze lingered too long on the demon.

But Alastor could not help but stare, irrevocably drawn like a moth wanting to be consumed by the flames.

He struggled to digest these moments that peered through the cracks of this kingly persona, even more so whenever Lucifer looked him over with the slow draw of his eyes, his lips hinting but never committing to a smile.

And he would just go, leaving Alastor with his consuming presence that would linger behind, thickening the air around him.

It was maddening and suffocating, and Alastor leapt at the opportunity for his first unsupervised, Imp-free shower, though now he was so waterlogged it seemed cool against him despite hell never being short on heat. He let out a wet sigh that echoed off the walls before shutting off the water and pressing his brow to the marble; he let out another hefty exhale as the unwelcomed weight returned to settle back into his core.

Alastor now understood that his only escape from this emotion that plagued him would be to return to the hotel, to leave behind this accursed place and its smirking-fucking-owner.

He stepped from the shower, trying to ignore the heavy sway between his slender thighs. Alastor took his time to dry off, eventually tucking his towel high around his waist, positioning his still flushed cock upright and against his stomach.

Water droplets rolled down the mirror, but he avoided his reflection that cut through the streaks, astutely aware of the burning shame with his inability to control his own body.

Damn him.

There was a knock at the door that pulled him out of his self-loathing and droplets fell as his ears flattened back. “What,” his tone cut, nearly seething.

Of course it was fucking Lucifer–as he should come to expect by now. He pushed open the door wearing what he deemed casual: dark slacks and a white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, a few buttons undone to hint his smooth, pale planes of his chest beneath. His blond hair was tousled back and his cheeks rosy as he looked Alastor over.

Alastor twisted his shame away, his current indecency blaring through his mind as he faced the countertop and bathroom mirror. “I didn’t say to come in,” he snapped, his palm wiping away to see Lucifer’s reflection watching him still.

As always, Lucifer played ignorant of his apparent discomfort and did not acknowledge his rude intrusion, but simply said that breakfast was ready.

“I’ll be out in a moment.” Alastor could feel his blood–hot and thick–coursing through him and rising to the surface. The guest bath felt cramped now and he wished to shove Lucifer back out the door, but instead he narrowed onto him in the fogged reflection. “I am almost done in here.”

The familiar silence returned thick, mixing into the steamy air that surrounded them and spilling through the propped door. Lucifer frowned and stepped fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, trapping the tension.

Alastor’s ears perked, his eyes sharp to the scrutinous gaze from Lucifer as he hoped the remaining blush from his elongated shower masked how his blood simmered beneath his skin.

“I said I’ll be done in a moment,” his tone clipped, his hostility clutched as tight as the towel wrapped around his slender waist. Alastor held onto it like a summoned guard against the devil himself.

Lucifer was unfazed, as always, allowing another pregnant pause to feed the quiet before he finally spoke.

“Thank you.”

Alastor blinked. “I didn’t saying anything–”

“Oh, I know,” Lucifer cut through, stepping closer behind him, his scrutinizing stare now piercing over Alastor’s shoulder in the mirror, “I was helping you find the actual words that you should be saying.”

Alastor frowned, his eyes narrowing back on the reflection, refusing to face him. “May I remind you that I never asked to be rescued.”

“You would not have been able to,” he retorted, his tone spilling hot, “as you were barely responsive when I fucking found you.”

It pushed Alastor to turn and face Lucifer, but whatever rebuttal he had caught in his throat once he realized how painfully close he now was to him. Lucifer pressed closer with the same tensity that bore through from his eyes, pinning Alastor, rooting him to the marble; fire danced in his gaze and the steam dissipating enriched the rosiness on his alabaster cheeks.

Alastor felt the bathroom deflating around, the walls shrinking in.

He refused to back down. “Whenever I decide that you do something that I consider worthwhile,” Alastor rasped, his pride forcing the words from the back of his throat, “I will then make sure to say thank you.”

He could not help but test and prod to see if the demon of legend thrummed beneath his tailored fits, pushing for him to surface, to erupt and tear open his healing wound. It would be a sick sense of closure for Alastor, but instead Lucifer only arched his brow, his signature smirk curling on his lips as he stepped closer, his hand dropping to feel him intimately.

His touch bolted the length of Alastor’s spine and he hunched over, wrenching away, choking on a gasp from the abrasive touch. Lucifer’s smile widened and he closed the space between them, his hand returning to relish the throbbing through the damp fabric against his palm. “Then allow me to do something worthwhile.”

Alastor felt outside of his body as his towel puddled onto the floor. The edge of the countertop was cold, digging into his lower backside as he fell back to balance the weight of Lucifer’s hands pressing onto his thighs. His molten touch was commanding, and the tension churning aboiled as the devil sank to his knees to unfurl the trepidation that anchored Alastor as he saw the demon’s jaw unhinge to swallow him.

He clenched his teeth, hissing from the salacious pace set by Lucifer’s forked tongue that pulled every cohesive thought from his head. He gasped when Lucifer pulled away only to lick his palm, wrapping his hand back around Alastor’s cock and stroking in tandem with his mouth. The devil sucked to savor, with a determination that pulled a low groan from the back of Alastor’s throat and another gasp that followed the low vibration of Lucifer’s pleased hum.

There was not a moment for Alastor to catch his breath, the fellatio pulling him from his skin, upwards to an unknown peak and to a teasing teetering along the ledge of pleasure that coiled back down at the base of his spine. Lucifer’s tongue curled with lewd sounds that filled the small space, taunting Alastor, pulling and pushing him closer.

It titillated through his nerve endings; he was close, so painfully close.

As his cock throbbed with the promised release, it stopped suddenly, jarringly. Alastor opened his eyes, dazed, dilated, and a desperate search only to see the smug satisfaction playing on Lucifer’s face.

Alastor clenched his teeth again, caging his desperation as he watched Lucifer pull himself upright, his lips swollen and glossy from his spit. His hands moved to Alastor’s narrow waist and gripped his hips, lifting him enough to sit on top of the counter. Lucifer then pushed apart his thighs, spitting on his palm again before his hand returned to set a languid pace, following up and down Alastor’s flushed cock.

Please, Alastor screamed in his head, and he swore his teeth would crack with his suppressed groan, his head falling back into the mirror with a dull thud. He closed his eyes, afraid to look and so easily unraveled, unaware that Lucifer suckled the fingers of his other hand before dropping lower, searching. Alastor shuddered from the tentative touch, the slow circle drawn around the rim that sparked a newer pleasure that licked up his spine.

Lucifer was very aware, his tone coy. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Fuck you,” but the venom always perched now stammered from Alastor’s lips.

Lucifer only hummed with his sly smile and hooded eyes. He stepped closer, leaning to press against Alastor’s bare chest, his heat bleeding through the fabric. Lucifer tilted his head to bite the slope of Alastor’s neck and he could not stop how it shuddered through him. “Maybe later,” Lucifer murmured against his skin, and Alastor let out a strangled mewl as a finger curled within him. “But you first.”

The intruding touch elicited a pleasure that bolted back down Alastor’s spine, causing his cock to jerk in his grasp. Lucifer watched him, his eyes darkening and his smile stretching across his sharp jaw. “I knew you would like this,” he purred. “Are you ready to thank me yet?”

He was teasing again and the only response Alastor could make was a choking attempt to try and pull the words from his raw throat. He could not think at this moment, now with how his blood was roaring in his ears, not with how his heart was reverberating against his bones until they bruised black.

Lucifer hummed against, relishing in the unsung reaction. “Not quite yet?” He grinned as he pressed another slick finger into his puckered hole.

Alastor moaned loudly, writhing from his touch, and Lucifer quickened the pace of his hands, one curling and one tugging simultaneously. Alastor arched into the delicious pressure raring from the pit of his stomach, the long-sought release finally bursting bright with colors and pulsing hot onto his stomach.

He felt boneless, almost folding in half when Lucifer pulled away; he only returned to his body with the sound of the sink, of drawers being rummaged through. Alastor blinked, forcing his eyes to see the devil’s slacks unbuttoned and a glossy sheen that covered the ridges and veins of his cock, heady and thick.

Lucifer knitted his slender waist back between Alastor’s thighs and Alastor moved instinctually, his hips canting and moving closer to the edge to meet with him.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Lucifer teased, his lubed fingers touching to line himself.

Alastor stayed quiet, mouth watering and eyes avoiding, his jaw tight as he focused on the blunt prod. Even with the foreplay given that shattered and pieced him together again, it was still a tight fit. Lucifer was patient with gentle thrusts that filled him, sinking slowly, carefully, into him. Alastor felt his skin prickling with a cold sweat, a shuddered rasp pulling when Lucifer was finally sheathed completely within.

Lucifer paused once he was flushed intimately against the cradle of Alastor’s hips and he watched a moment before his head tipped back to drag his tongue along the curve of his neck, his teeth nipping at his fluttering pulse. Alastor clenched, the small sounds escaping summoning the demon with a bruising hold on his hips and slow, powerful thrusts that sent hot bolts bursting his seams.

Alastor felt his soul pulling away. His mouth fell open with muted cries as Lucifer pounded mercilessly into him.

“Let me hear you,” Lucifer pulled him upright, closer, his claws dragging down Alastor’s back to mark him.

Alastor shuddered and reached to grab him, his fingertips biting into Lucifer’s sharp jaw to bring his lips to finally touch his own. It was a desperate kiss searing and he felt Lucifer smiling into it before biting down. Alastor groaned from the taste of iron and again when Lucifer dropped his mouth to bite into his chest.

It stirred something deep, something primal that filled him once again and fracturing throughout Alastor.

“Give me one more.” Lucifer captured his mouth, rasping against his lips. It was not a request and Alastor felt his cock jerk. “Touch yourself.”

There was another bite at his pulse that was pushing against his skin and Alastor arched against Lucifer, his heart still bruising to the surface. Lucifer’s mouth trailed upwards with heated, wet kisses, and Alastor moved his hand between them, pushing him backwards so his hand could wrap around his hardening cock.

Lucifer’s smirk returned, his focus returned on his powerful thrusts that filled Alastor, coaxing another thundery groan from him. Alastor's hand fell in rhythm around his cock, building fast with the pace of the devil, and he swelled, breathless and brimming. There was a faraway command that pulled his second release that left Alastor smitten, the euphoric coil shattering throughout.

For the second time, Alastor could feel the slow return back into his skin, slowly blinking to focus on Lucifer and his salacious grin. The mess they made began to spill and Alastor burned with embarrassment, pressing his hands on the firm chest peeking beneath the white shirt, pushing Lucifer until he slipped out from him.

Alastor was a deflated husk, unable to summon the strength to cover himself, his eyes flickering to steal a quick glance at the heady gaze Lucifer held on him.

“Fuck breakfast,” he said, his fingers moving to unbutton his shirt and peel it off. “I think I’m going to take a shower.” He seemed roguish, his satisfaction brimming on obnoxious. He arched his brow at Alastor. “Care to join me?”

Alastor was still splayed on the counter, life drained and filthy anew. For a moment he contemplated just leaving, to retreat back into the room prepared, to pack and hideaway at the hotel, but his hesitation only caused the spend to spill more.

So instead, Alastor said yes.

“Yes what?”

The devil returned to his teasing tone and this time it pulled something prurient from Alastor, something he knew he would no longer try to control. “Yes,” and a moment passed before he decided to play along, “and thank you.”

It was quiet, but it was enough. Lucifer beamed, finishing stripping away his layers and moving back towards the shower. “You coming?” He paused to look over his shoulder, watching with hooded eyes until Alastor finally pulled himself up to follow.

Alastor moved until he could reach and cup Lucifer’s chin, holding his gaze on the sharp grin that spread across his jaw. “After all, it’s my turn now.”

arcie's navigation || misc. fandom masterlist

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #deerduck #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #lucifer morningstar #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor

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wizardislandisland-news · 1 year ago

Text

The Daily Orb

Recently, about six adventurers have embarked to plunder a vault in the boiling hills, a boiling hot desert. The expedition ended in a battle with a… thing. Eyewitnesses say “terrifying” and “it was awesome”.

The loot includes a fortune in an as-of-yet unidentified currency, and a reddish-black metal with seemingly a conscious of its own.

Pollution blob roams island

@pollution-wizard’s Blob of pure pollution is currently roaming the island. You are advised to avoid this creature, as it is extremely dangerous.

Weather

Sunny with mild firebursts all around wizard island due to hatchlings. Light ashfall expected. Keep flammable items secure, as heat levels will rise significantly.

Local cat waged war with Mariah Carey

The local menace, @fattocatto-wizard , has waged war with Mariah Carey. After a hard-fought battle, they claim, quote:

We lost…

:,(

She was too strong for us…

She will plague this world for years to come…

Many have attempted to cheer the cat up, saying “there’s always next year” and “the songs aren’t that bad, anyways” to no avail.

Local mastermind makes work of art

Some of you may remember the marble imp. For those who have not seen it, @sorcererest-sorcerer has been working to create a beautiful replica on paper!

Island flipped

You may have slept through it if you use magicalfox’s sleep-tites, but the entire island was flipped over last night! The culprit: @magical-fox.

Strange figure loose

A strange figure has been roaming the island, claiming to be a sorcerer. As of yet, we don’t have enough information to know exactly what their intentions are, but stay safe out there.

What’s on the next page?

#wizard island island #wizard island news co.

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scribbly-squid · 1 day ago

Text

Anyone, Anything

Lucifer x F!Imp Reader

Lucifer's world is thrown into chaos when his wife, Lilith, announces she needs a break from their relationship. Her sudden departure leaves him reeling, clutching their infant daughter, Charlie, in his arms as he battles feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. Struggling to reconcile his emotions, he finds himself thrust into the challenges of parenthood alone - until he meets a fellow Hellborn who understands his struggles.

🌻I finally got this chapter finished. It took too long in my opinion, I kept rereading it and didn’t like how some parts sounded. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / Masterlist

Chapter 1

“What do you think happened?”

You glanced over at Carrie, a fellow imp maid who’d become your closest companion since you started working at the Morningstar Manor. She stood with one hand on her hip, a mischievous gleam in her yellow eyes.

“About what?” you asked, your tone light as you continued sweeping the vast banquet hall. The gilded chandeliers overhead sparkled like constellations, but the heavy silence in the manor was impossible to ignore.

Carrie groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You know…” She glanced around, making sure no one else was nearby before leaning in closer. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “About Lilith leaving.”

Your movements slowed just slightly, the broom catching against the polished marble floor. You straightened and looked up at her, feigning indifference. “I don’t know.”

Carrie narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the handle of her feather duster. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you haven’t noticed anything weird? The arguments? The way Lucifer’s been stomping around like a walking thunderstorm?”

You straightened, gripping the broom handle a little tighter. The mention of Lilith’s departure made your stomach twist. Of course you’d noticed the shift in the manor’s atmosphere—the tension so thick it felt like it could suffocate you. Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell and the most fearsome being you’d ever encountered, had been anything but his usual self.

“I try not to get involved in things that don’t concern me,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Carrie let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t concern you? Girl, everything concerns you when you live under the same roof as him. Especially when you’re cleaning up after his messes.” She gestured vaguely to the ornate table behind you.

You sighed and turned back to your sweeping, but the knots in your chest only tightened. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t thought about it—hell, you’d overheard more than you cared to admit. The shouting matches, the muffled sobs, the tension that seemed to saturate the very air of the manor. Lilith’s departure hadn’t been a single event. It was a slow unraveling, weeks of barely-hidden turmoil that had finally snapped.

And then there was Charlie, their three-month-old daughter, who’d been thrust into Lucifer’s care. You’d seen him with her a few times. He tried, that much was clear, but he looked… lost. Out of place.

But it wasn’t your place to talk about it.

“I think it’s best we stick to our jobs,” you said carefully, focusing on the rhythmic sweep of the broom. “We’re here to clean, not to speculate.”

Carrie snorted, muttering something you couldn’t quite catch under her breath. But for once, she dropped the subject, moving off to dust one of the massive chandeliers.

The two of you worked in silence for a while, the occasional clang of cleaning tools echoing off the high ceilings. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of Charlie’s cries reached your ears. It tugged at something deep inside you—a strange mixture of pity and unease.

You shook the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. The Morningstar family’s affairs were none of your business.

“That should do it.” Carrie’s voice broke the silence. She stood back, brushing a stray feather from her duster as she surveyed the gleaming banquet hall. “Banquet hall’s clean. Mister Winfred will be satisfied.” She pulled a crumpled note from the pocket of her apron and squinted at the next item on the list. “Next up… the parlor room in the west wing.”

You groaned, leaning against your broom for support. “Are you kidding me? We’re on the complete opposite side of the manor! Isn’t there something else we can do here in the east wing?”

Carrie scanned the list, her lips moving silently as she read. After a moment, she shook her head. “Nope. Everything else is west wing. Looks like we’re walking.”

“Great,” you muttered, dragging the broom behind you as you followed her toward the door. The thought of trekking across the sprawling manor was exhausting enough, but the unspoken tension in the air made it worse. The weight of it pressed down on your shoulders like the suffocating heat of Hell itself.

You paused at the doorway, casting one last glance back at the room. The banquet hall gleamed, every surface spotless and perfect. But it was hard to ignore the feeling that no amount of cleaning could fix the fractures running through the Morningstar Manor.

As you and Carrie made your way toward the west wing, the faint sounds of Charlie’s crying grew louder, echoing through the long, marble-lined corridors. The noise tugged at your heart, each sob sharp and insistent, like a tiny dagger pricking your conscience. Before long, you found yourselves passing her nursery, the door slightly ajar. The room inside was dim, but you could make out the faint glow of a nightlight and the shadow of her crib.

Your hoovesteps slowed, hesitation creeping in. Should you check on her? The idea of Charlie crying alone made your stomach churn. You stopped, your hand twitching at your side as if to reach for the door.

But before you could take another step, Carrie grabbed the sleeve of your uniform, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to her, confused, only to find her shaking her head firmly.

“What if His Majesty got the wrong idea?” she whispered, her tone serious.

Her words sent a jolt through you. The last thing you wanted was to be caught somewhere you didn’t belong, especially by Lucifer Morningstar himself. You nodded reluctantly, even as every maternal instinct in you screamed to go inside.

Ignoring the pull in your chest, you forced yourself to follow Carrie, leaving the sounds of Charlie’s wails behind. Each step away from the nursery felt heavier than the last, but you kept your head down and your focus on the path ahead.

By the time you reached the parlor in the west wing, the cries still echoed in your mind, no matter how far you walked. Carrie was already at work, humming softly as she dusted an elaborate set of shelves lined with ancient books and strange artifacts. But you... you couldn’t focus. Your hands gripped the broom tightly, your tail flicking with unease as your thoughts spiraled.

“Hey, you alright?”

Carrie’s voice snapped you back to reality. You glanced up at her, startled, your tail instinctively curling around your ankles as if to ground you.

“Yeah,” you said softly, nodding. You forced a small smile, hoping it was convincing enough. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Carrie raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Don’t let it get to you,” she said, returning to her dusting. “Things in this place are always messy, one way or another.”

Her words lingered as you turned back to your work, sweeping the intricate patterns of the parlor’s marble floor. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, the image of Charlie’s tiny, helpless form wouldn’t leave your mind. And somewhere, deep down, you wondered if anyone else in this entire manor felt the way you did.

“I’m fine… just noticed we left one of the buckets with some of our supplies back there,” you said, forcing a casual tone. Setting down the duster in your hand, you straightened up and glanced toward the door.

Carrie paused mid-dust, arching an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t notice anything missing.”

“Well, I did,” you replied, your voice steady as you moved toward the exit. “I’ll go fetch them. Wouldn’t want Mister Winfred finding out we’ve left unsightly items lying around for guests or, worse, His Majesty to see.”

Before Carrie could object or ask questions, you slipped out of the parlor and into the hallway, your heart racing. Retracing your steps toward the banquet hall, you couldn’t shake the growing unease gnawing at you.

The sound of soft humming drifted down the corridor as you neared the nursery again, making you slow your pace. You stared at the slightly ajar door, your ears twitching to catch the tune. It wasn’t the usual stillness you associated with the nursery—it was soothing, low, almost angelic.

*He must have heard her crying and came to lull her back to sleep,* you thought, relaxing slightly.

Just as you turned to leave, Charlie’s wails broke through again, this time louder, more desperate. The sound startled you, and you froze in place.

“Oh, golly, what’s wrong, sweetie? You were falling back asleep…” Lucifer’s voice came next, carrying a hint of panic beneath his typically smooth tone.

Against your better judgment, your feet moved toward the door. Your curiosity—and that unshakable maternal instinct—got the better of you. Peering cautiously through the small opening, you caught sight of him. Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself, was pacing back and forth across the nursery. He cradled Charlie in his arms, his movements careful yet frantic as he hummed a soothing tune under his breath. His usually pristine suit was slightly disheveled, his bowtie loosened and his hair tousled from running his fingers through it.

It was a sight you never thought you’d witness. The fearsome ruler, looking utterly normal as he tried to console his infant daughter.

For a brief moment, you felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. He wasn’t just the all-powerful king you served; he was a father fumbling his way through the chaos Lilith had left behind.

But before you could linger any longer, a sharp throat-clearing behind you jolted you back to reality. Your entire body stiffened, and you turned slowly, dread pooling in your stomach.

Mister Winfred stood there, his gaze like daggers as he appraised you. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his posture was as rigid as always.

“And what exactly are you doing here, loitering outside His Majesty’s nursery?” he asked, his voice icy and clipped.

Your tail instinctively curled around your leg as you stumbled over your words. “I-I was just… I thought I heard—”

“Save your excuses,” he snapped, his lips pressing into a thin, unforgiving line. “You’re not paid to eavesdrop on matters that do not concern you. Get back to your duties before I report this breach of discipline to His Majesty.”

Your stomach dropped at the threat, the weight of his words hitting you like a blow. Bowing your head quickly, you stammered, “Y-Yes, Mister Winfred. Right away.”

Without another glance back at the nursery, you hurried down the hallway, your hooves clicking against the polished floor.

[ . . . ]

The cries echoed through the hall, dragging Lucifer from a rare, deep sleep. Groggy and disoriented, he reached instinctively for the space beside him—only to find it cold and empty. His fingers brushed the silken sheets, and a sharp ache of loss filled his chest. Lilith’s absence was still fresh, raw enough that every reminder felt like a blade twisting. With a weary sigh, he slipped his hooves into his soft duck slippers, the absurdity of the gesture lost on him as he accepted the tug back into harsh reality.

It had been less than forty eight hours since Lilith left, yet it felt like an eternity. The once vibrant and commanding aura of the Morningstar Manor now felt muted, its halls too quiet except for the cries of their infant daughter. His responsibilities as a father weighed heavily on his shoulders, and sleep had become a fleeting luxury. Whenever he closed his eyes, he was haunted by memories of Lilith’s departure, her face devoid of the warmth he once knew, her parting words cold and final.

Dragging himself down the dimly lit hallway, his tail trailed limply along the floor. The cries grew louder as he neared Charlie’s nursery, each sob pulling at a part of him he hadn’t known existed. This wasn’t just unfamiliar—it was uncharted territory. Fatherhood, single parenthood, the raw ache of abandonment… Every piece of it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

With a resigned exhale, Lucifer pushed open the nursery door and stepped inside. The soft glow of a nightlight bathed the room in a warm, golden hue, casting shadows on the walls adorned with delicate celestial designs. His daughter lay in her crib, her tiny face red and scrunched as she wailed, her tiny fists flailing. The sight softened something in him, a reminder that no matter how lost he felt, she was even more helpless.

“Alright, apple pie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he scooped her up with practiced gentleness. “I’m here now.”

Charlie’s cries quieted slightly as he began to rock her, pacing the length of the nursery. His movements were slow and deliberate, a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside him. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a bottle of milk, its surface glinting faintly in the dim light. Holding her securely with one arm, he warmed the bottle with a soft, golden glow from his palm.

Once it was ready, he offered it to her, and she latched on eagerly, her sobs dissolving into quiet, rhythmic gulps. The room fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of her feeding. Lucifer sank into the rocking chair by the crib, cradling her close as he watched her eyes begin to flutter shut. A tender smile flickered across his lips, though it was weighed down by the shadows in his gaze.

“At least you’re still here,” he whispered, stroking her fine hair. “You’re the one thing keeping me sane in this mess.”

The quiet was broken by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. Lucifer’s head snapped toward the door, his crimson eyes narrowing dangerously. His aura darkened instinctively, a protective edge sharpening in his voice.

“And what exactly are you doing here?” he growled, his tone low and menacing.

Standing in the doorway, poised and unflinching, was Winfred. The imp butler’s expression remained neutral, but his piercing gaze met Lucifer’s without wavering. “My apologies for intruding, Your Majesty,” he began evenly, his hands clasped behind his back. “But I thought it prudent to check in, given recent… changes in the household.”

Lucifer’s annoyance flared, though he quickly turned his attention back to Charlie, who was drifting into a light slumber. He adjusted her position slightly, his movements careful and deliberate. “You have a habit of showing up uninvited, Winfred,” he muttered, his tone icy.

Winfred remained unfazed, his posture as rigid as ever. “A habit, perhaps, but a necessary one. With Lady Lilith gone and many of the staff following her or deserting their posts, someone must ensure that the manor—and its King—continues to function.”

At the mention of Lilith, Lucifer’s jaw tightened, and his tail flicked sharply against the floor. The betrayal still stung, even if he’d grown accustomed to hiding it. “The manor will survive,” he said curtly. “Hell will survive. Right now, she’s all that matters.”

His gaze dropped to Charlie, his voice softening instinctively as he held her close. For a moment, he wasn’t the King of Hell or the fearsome Morningstar; he was simply a father, cradling the one person who hadn’t abandoned him.

Winfred inclined his head, his tone calm but firm. “Of course, sir. However, there is a balance to be struck. Your responsibilities as a father are undeniable, but so are your duties as the ruler of Hell. Delegation, at least in part, may ease your burden.”

Lucifer exhaled sharply, his frustration mounting. “And what do you propose, Winfred? That I hand her off to someone else? That I treat her as an inconvenience like—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.

Winfred’s expression softened just slightly, his tone almost understanding. “No, sir. I propose finding someone trustworthy to assist you. Not to replace you, but to ensure that you can balance both roles. Hell may wait, but it won’t wait forever.”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Charlie’s peaceful face, his tail curling protectively around the base of the chair. The thought of entrusting her care to anyone else gnawed at him, but he couldn’t ignore the truth in Winfred’s words.

“If you truly believe there’s someone capable of earning my trust, then perhaps,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less commanding. Rising from the rocking chair, he adjusted Charlie in his arms, her tiny form nestled against his chest. “But for now, leave us.”

Winfred bowed deeply, his movements fluid and respectful. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” With that, he turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving Lucifer alone in the golden glow of the nursery.

He looked down at Charlie, a rare, soft smile gracing his lips as he stroked her hair. “It’s just you and me now, apple pie,” he murmured. “And I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

[ . . . ]

Once you grabbed the bucket from the banquet hall, you made your way back to the parlor, your mind still reeling from the earlier conversation with Winfred. The butler’s words weighed heavy, and though you tried to shake them off, they lingered like an unwelcome shadow.

As you entered the parlor, Carrie was finishing dusting the last of the shelves. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. "Wasn’t sure when you’d be back," she said, her tone teasing.

"Sorry," you muttered, setting the bucket down. "I bumped into Winfred on the way there."

Carrie winced, her tail flicking nervously. "Oof. That explains the look on your face. What did the old grump want this time?"

You hesitated, debating how much to reveal. "Nothing much," you lied, grabbing a rag from the bucket and moving toward a nearby table. "Just reminded me to stay on task. You know how he is."

Carrie snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sounds about right. He’s always lurking around like he’s got nothing better to do than breathe down our necks."

She hopped down from the stool she’d been using to reach the higher shelves, dusting off her apron with exaggerated annoyance. "Last time, he scolded me for ‘improper posture’ while dusting. Posture! Who cares about posture when you’re cleaning?"

Her dramatic reenactment of Winfred’s scowl drew a genuine laugh from you, momentarily easing the tension you’d been carrying since your run-in with the butler.

"Alright," Carrie said, stretching her arms above her head. "We’ve got one last thing on the list—"

A knock at the door interrupted her, and both of you turned toward the sound.

Standing in the doorway was Guthrie, a cheerful imp who worked in the kitchen. He offered you both a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, ladies. Just checking in on how you’re doing."

Carrie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "What? Winfred’s too busy, so he sent you to spy on us?"

Guthrie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not spying, no. Well, maybe a little. He’s rounding up what’s left of the staff for a meeting."

Your brows furrowed. "What for? Is someone in trouble?"

Carrie scoffed, her tail flicking dismissively. "When isn’t someone in trouble with that shriveled imp?"

Guthrie shifted awkwardly, glancing between the two of you. "I don’t know the details, but he specifically asked for everyone to gather. You two should come along."

Reluctantly, you exchanged a look with Carrie before following Guthrie out of the parlor and down the hall. The tension in the air thickened as you approached the kitchen, where the remaining servants had gathered. Whispers filled the room, but they fell silent when Winfred stepped onto a crate to address the group.

The butler’s stern gaze swept over the assembled staff, his hands clasped behind his back. "Thank you for arriving promptly," he began, his tone clipped and commanding.

"As many of you are aware, Lady Lilith is no longer residing in the manor. Some of you witnessed her departure; others have heard rumors. Regardless, this is a private matter, and discretion is paramount. His Majesty does not wish for this information to leave these walls."

A ripple of unease passed through the room. One of the younger imps raised a trembling hand. "But… what about the staff who left? Won’t they spread word about what happened?"

Winfred’s expression darkened, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Those who abandoned their posts have forfeited their loyalty to this household—and the protection it offers. His Majesty will address them in due time. For now, your focus should remain on your duties. His Majesty and young Miss Charlie are our priorities. Am I clear?"

A chorus of uneasy nods followed, though the tension in the room remained palpable.

"You are dismissed," Winfred said sharply, stepping down from the crate.

The staff began to disperse, their murmured conversations resuming as they filed out of the kitchen. You turned to leave with Carrie, but Winfred’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Y/N, a moment."

Your stomach dropped, and you exchanged a worried glance with Carrie before turning back to face the butler. "Yes, sir?"

Winfred regarded you with his usual composed demeanor, though his piercing gaze seemed to weigh you down. "You will assist His Majesty with Miss Charlie. Effective immediately."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you struggled to find your voice. "W-what? Why me? I’m just a maid—I barely know anything about…" You trailed off, unsure how to phrase it without sounding defiant.

"Precisely," Winfred replied, his tone unyielding. "You are unassuming, diligent, and discreet. His Majesty requires someone who can balance attentiveness with subtlety, and you have demonstrated those qualities."

You hesitated, your mind racing. This wasn’t what you’d signed up for. You’d come to the Morningstar Manor to escape your past, to provide for your son without drawing attention to yourself. Now, Winfred was thrusting you into the center of the Morningstars’ inner circle.

"But… I’m not sure I’m the right person for this," you said weakly.

Winfred tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening just enough to unsettle you. "You have a son, do you not? Five years old, if I’m not mistaken."

Your blood ran cold. "That’s none of your business," you said sharply, though your voice wavered.

The butler’s calm expression didn’t falter. "Perhaps not. But I believe your experience as a mother will serve you well in caring for Miss Charlie. You understand the stakes better than most."

Anger and fear churned in your chest. "You can’t just… use that against me!"

"I’m not using anything against you," Winfred said evenly. "I’m offering you an opportunity to prove your worth—to His Majesty, to this household, and to yourself."

You clenched your fists, glancing away. Images of your son filled your mind, his laughter, his smile. You’d made sacrifices to ensure his safety, to keep him hidden. Refusing this assignment could risk everything.

"Fine," you said quietly, your voice laced with reluctant resolve. "I’ll do it."

"Good," Winfred said with a curt nod. "You’ll begin immediately. His Majesty is in the nursery. Introduce yourself and make yourself useful."

As you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at Winfred. "And if he doesn’t want me there?"

The butler’s gaze was steady. "He will. He may not realize it yet, but His Majesty needs help. Even the Morningstar has limits."

With a heavy heart, you made your way toward the nursery, each step feeling heavier than the last. You could only hope that stepping into this new role wouldn’t unravel the delicate balance you’d fought so hard to maintain.

You inhaled deeply, steeling yourself before heading down the hall. Every step felt heavier than the last, your mind racing with what awaited you in the nursery. As you neared the corridor, you spotted Carrie fussing with some picture frames hanging on the wall, clearly stalling to catch you on your way out.

The moment she caught sight of you, she bounded over, her tail swishing nervously behind her.

“What in Satan’s name was that about?” she demanded, her voice a mix of curiosity and worry.

You avoided her gaze, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. “It was… nothing. Winfred gave me a new task to do, nothing more.” Your tone was curt, and you resumed walking further down the hall, hoping she’d take the hint and drop it.

“Nothing?” she repeated, hurrying to keep pace with you. “I thought he was going to skin you alive! What did you do? Forget to polish the silver? Spill something in the banquet hall? Oh, wait—don’t tell me it was because of the time I—”

“It wasn’t about any of that,” you interrupted sharply, cutting her off before she could start confessing to crimes you didn’t want to hear about.

Carrie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she darted ahead to block your path, forcing you to stop. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to brush me off like that. What did he want?”

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. Carrie had been your closest friend in the manor, but even she didn’t know the full truth about your past—or your son. "It’s nothing you need to worry about, Carrie," you said firmly. "I have it handled."

Her tail flicked, and her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. “Oh, really? Because you’ve got that look on your face. You know, the one you get when something’s bothering you but you’re too stubborn to say anything.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It’s just… Winfred assigned me to assist with Miss Charlie."

Carrie’s jaw dropped, her tail stilled in disbelief. "What? You? Of all the imps in this cursed place?"

"Yes, me," you said dryly, stepping around her to continue down the hall.

"But why?" she pressed, falling into step beside you. "You’re not even a nanny! I mean, I’m sure you’re good with kids, sure, but this is different. This is the Morningstar’s kid! If you so much as sneeze wrong, he’ll—"

"Carrie," you interrupted, your voice laced with irritation. "I don’t have a choice, okay? Winfred made it clear this isn’t optional."

She fell silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, with a sly smirk, she elbowed you gently. "So, you’re telling me you’re going to be spending quality time with the big boss himself? Maybe you’ll even get on his good side."

You shot her a look. "That’s not how this works, and you know it."

Carrie shrugged, the smirk never leaving her face. "Hey, I’m just saying—if anyone can charm a grumpy king, it’s you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you muttered, quickening your pace.

As you neared the nursery door, Carrie finally stopped trailing you, her teasing expression softening. “Hey… seriously, though. If you need anything—or if it gets to be too much—just let me know, okay? You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You paused, her words catching you off guard. Turning to face her, you managed a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Carrie. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door to the nursery, stepping into its quiet warmth. The room was dimly lit, with soft golden hues spilling from a nearby lamp. Inside, Lucifer sat in a rocking chair, his posture both regal and relaxed as he cradled Charlie against his chest. The infant was sound asleep, her tiny hand clutching the edge of his jacket.

Lucifer’s gaze shifted to you the moment you entered, his crimson eyes sharp and watchful. There was no mistaking the subtle narrowing of his gaze, the unmistakable glint of protective wariness that only a father could carry.

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Your Majesty,” you said softly, inclining your head in a respectful bow. “Winfred sent me. He thought you might need… assistance.”

Lucifer’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier, his presence suffocating in its intensity. “Did he, now?” he said coolly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “And what makes him think I need *help*?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your next words. “He thought… perhaps it might ease your burden, even just a little. Raising a child is no small task, especially with everything else you’re managing.”

The room fell silent, save for the faint, rhythmic sound of Charlie’s breathing. You could feel the weight of Lucifer’s scrutiny, his piercing gaze dissecting every word, every twitch of your expression.

At last, his eyes dropped to the sleeping infant in his arms. His features softened imperceptibly, the harsh lines of his face easing just slightly. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, though no less commanding. “And what experience do you have with children?”

Your heart pounded, memories of your son flickering through your mind like a distant flame. “I… I’ve cared for children before,” you said carefully, the words deliberate as you skirted around the full truth. “Being an older sister, I’ve learned how to handle their needs. I’m… patient.”

Lucifer studied you for a long moment, his tail swishing lazily behind him, though his gaze remained sharp and calculating. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity before he finally exhaled, a low sigh that carried both weariness and reluctant acceptance.

“Fine,” he said at last, though his tone remained guarded. “But don’t worry about today. You’re free to go.”

Relief washed over you, though you kept your expression neutral. You bowed respectfully. “Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his attention already returning to his daughter as he gently adjusted the blanket around her. You took that as your cue to leave, stepping back into the hallway and closing the door quietly behind you.

As the door clicked shut, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You made your way toward the staff area where everyone’s lockers were tucked away. The dimly lit corridor offered a brief respite from the tension you’d been carrying, though your chest still felt tight. Slipping inside the locker room, you let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you.

You quickly began to change out of your uniform, swapping it for your usual attire. As the fabric slid off your shoulders, the familiar comfort of your clothes helped ease some of your nerves. Tugging your shirt over your head, you brushed your hair back, smoothing the strands that had been tousled and fixing the bits that stubbornly pricked upward at the base of your horns.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone entering the room. Carrie stepped in, her arms folded, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. She caught your gaze and gave you a small nod.

“Hey…” you greeted softly, your voice subdued as you grabbed your bag to stow away your dirty uniform.

“Hey yourself,” Carrie replied, leaning casually against one of the lockers, though the tilt of her tail betrayed her curiosity. “You okay? You looked like you were walking to your own execution earlier.”

You let out a dry chuckle, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you muttered, shoving the uniform into your bag.

“Well, I mean, you walked into the devil’s den,” Carrie teased lightly, though her tone grew more serious. “So? How bad was it? Did Lucifer breathe fire? Throw you out the window? Blink and disintegrate you?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, nothing like that. He was… intense, sure. But he didn’t kill me.” You slung your bag over your shoulder, leaning back against the locker with a sigh. “He’s just… protective. Can’t really blame him for that.”

Carrie studied you for a moment, her usual snark giving way to genuine concern. “Still, that’s no small thing—being asked to help with his kid. Winfred must think you’ve got nerves of steel or something.”

“More like he didn’t give me a choice,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I volunteered for this.”

Carrie tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “You sure you don’t think it’s a punishment or something, do you? Like, ‘Hey, you annoyed me today, so go deal with the King of Hell’s kid’?”

You shook your head, though her words made you pause. “No… I don’t think so. Winfred was weirdly insistent, like he thought I’d be good at it. It’s just—” You hesitated, the weight of your secret hanging heavily on your mind. “It’s a lot.”

Carrie gave you a long look, her tail flicking thoughtfully. “Well, if anyone can handle it, it’s you. You’ve got that whole ‘calm under pressure’ thing going on. Plus, you’re good with kids… right?”

Her words struck a chord, and you glanced away, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. “I guess,” you said quietly.

Carrie didn’t push further, instead offering a small smile. “Well, good luck with it. If nothing else, you’ll get some great stories out of it. ‘The Day I Survived Lucifer Morningstar’ has a nice ring to it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Thanks, Carrie. That’s… oddly encouraging.”

“Anytime,” she said, giving you a playful salute as she turned to head toward her locker.

As you made your way out of the staff area, her words lingered in your mind. Despite the weight of the task ahead, there was a strange sense of resolve building within you. Whatever came next, you’d face it—one day at a time.

"I’ll see you later," you said, managing a small smile, though exhaustion was already tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"See you later!" Carrie called back, her voice cheerful as she headed in the opposite direction, her tail swishing as she disappeared down the corridor.

You sighed softly, adjusting your bag’s strap and stepping out into the streets of Hell. The evening air was heavy with the scent of sulfur, mingling with the distant din of chatter and the occasional scream. Finally, you spotted the bus stop just up ahead and felt a wave of relief at the sight of the bench waiting for you.

I can finally rest my feet, you thought, eager for even a moment’s reprieve after such a long day.

But, as luck would have it, your relief was short-lived. A hulking shark demon plopped down on the bench just as you approached, sprawling out and taking up every inch of space. His massive tail swayed lazily, nearly knocking over the trash can beside him.

You stopped in your tracks, an internal groan echoing in your head. Great.

Awkwardly, you hovered a few feet away, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. The demon glanced up, his beady black eyes locking onto you, and a slow, toothy grin spread across his face. You could feel the weight of his gaze, predatory and calculating, making your skin crawl. Still, you kept your eyes straight ahead, trying to focus on the road.

Hailing a cab wasn’t an option—you’d spent nearly every spare cent on bills and essentials for your son. That left you with one uncomfortable choice: waiting here in silence, no matter how unnerving it felt.

“Just wait it out,” you muttered under your breath, casting another hopeful glance down the road. The bus had to show up soon, right?

The demon’s grin widened, his jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light. “What? Too good to sit by me, girlie?” he sneered, his voice deep and mocking.

You stiffened but didn’t look at him. “Just waiting for the bus,” you replied evenly, keeping your tone calm and distant.

Your tail swished behind you, betraying your unease as you heard the demon shift on the bench. His heavy footsteps thudded against the ground as he stood, his towering shadow falling over you.

Fuck me, you thought, shoulders tensing as you braced yourself for whatever was coming next.

The demon leaned closer, his breath foul with the stench of decay and whatever he’d eaten last. “Waiting for the bus, huh?” he rumbled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Seems to me you’ve got nothing better to do. How ��bout keeping me company, sweetheart?”

You shifted your weight, gripping your bag tightly. “I’d rather not,” you said sharply, forcing yourself to remain composed as your eyes flicked to the horizon.

Where is that damn bus?

He laughed, a low, guttural sound that sent a chill up your spine. “Aw, don’t be like that. Bet you’re more fun than you look,” he teased, his grin widening as he leaned in even closer.

Your patience snapped like a taut wire. Turning sharply, you finally met his gaze, your eyes narrowing. “Back off,” you said, your voice firm and unwavering. Your tail cracked loudly like a whip, the sharp sound cutting through the tension. “I’m not interested. Move along.”

For a moment, the demon looked surprised, his grin faltering. Then he laughed again, louder this time, a sound that grated against every nerve in your body.

But before he could say anything else, the rumble of the bus engine filled the air. The headlights cut through the haze, and the bus rolled to a stop with a hiss, its doors creaking open. Relief flooded you as you stepped forward quickly, ignoring the demon entirely.

“Catch you later, sweetheart,” he called after you, but you didn’t spare him a glance as you climbed aboard, finding a seat near the middle of the bus.

Sinking into the worn cushion, you let out a long breath, the tension finally melting from your shoulders. You glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the shark demon glaring after you, his face twisted in annoyance.

Safe at last, you leaned back and allowed yourself a moment to relax. The familiar sights of I.M.P City rolled past the window, the vibrant chaos of Hell’s streets a strange sort of comfort. As the bus rumbled along, a small smile tugged at your lips. Home was close, but there was one more stop to make before you could call it a day.

Pulling out your phone, you tapped out a quick message to your son’s babysitter, confirming that everything was still fine on that front. Within moments, a thumbs-up notification popped up, and you felt a surge of gratitude.

The bus slowed to a stop, and you hopped off, your shoes clicking against the pavement as you made your way to the nearby grocery store. The doors slid open with a mechanical hum, and you stepped inside, heading directly for the aisle you needed.

Your hand found the familiar box on the shelf, and you smiled faintly, tossing it into your basket. It wasn’t much, but it was one of your son’s favorites—something small to make him smile after a long day.

After a quick trip through self-checkout, you stepped back out into the warm evening air, the receipt crinkling in your pocket. With your purchase in hand, you started the final leg of your journey, your thoughts already drifting to the warmth of home and the sound of your son’s laughter.

No matter how difficult the day had been, you reminded yourself, it was worth it for him. Always.

As you rounded the corner, your apartment building came into view—a modest structure that had seen better days. The paint was peeling, the windows were slightly fogged, and the steps groaned underfoot, but it was yours. No palace in Hell could match the comfort of the home you’d built within these walls.

You climbed the familiar flights of stairs, each creak of the wood a sound you could trace blindfolded. At the top, you paused in front of your door, the muffled sounds of cartoons and soft giggles filtering through. A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled out your keys and unlocked the door.

The hinges squeaked as the door swung open, and the lively chatter of the cartoon characters greeted you, mingled with the unmistakable sound of your son’s giggles. The sight of him on the living room floor, cross-legged with his favorite plush toy clutched in his tiny hands, made your heart swell. His eyes, wide and bright, flicked to you instantly, and his face lit up with sheer joy, revealing his sharp little teeth in a grin that mirrored yours.

“Mama!” he cried, springing to his feet with surprising speed and charging toward you, his small arms spread wide.

You crouched just in time to scoop him into your arms, holding him tight as his arms wrapped around your neck. The exhaustion from your day faded into nothing against the warmth of his embrace. "Hey, sweetheart," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Were you good for Ms. Ella?"

He nodded so enthusiastically you thought his head might pop off, and from the kitchen, you heard a chuckle. Turning your head, you saw Ms. Ella wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she stepped into view. Her kind, wrinkled face softened as she watched the two of you.

“An absolute devil, as always,” she said with a knowing smile. “He helped me set the table for his snack earlier. I’d say you’ve got a proper little gentleman in the making.”

You laughed, ruffling his messy hair, and he beamed with pride. “Couldn’t do it without him,” you said, your tone warm as you gently set him down. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out Ms. Ella’s payment for the evening, handing it to her with a grateful nod.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Ella. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She waved her hand dismissively, her smile unwavering. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, dear. He’s a delight, as always. You just make sure you get some rest tonight, alright?”

“I will,” you promised, seeing her out with a final wave.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, your son tugged on your sleeve, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Mama, can I have it now? Pleeease?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Have what, exactly?”

He pointed at your grocery bag, practically bouncing on his toes. “The Greed Seeds! I saw them!”

You laughed, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box. His delighted gasp filled the room, and he clapped his hands together like he’d just won the lottery. “Yes!”

“After dinner,” you said firmly, holding the box just out of reach as he pouted dramatically. You scooped him up again, carrying him toward the kitchen. “Now, how about you help me cook tonight, huh? Chef’s assistant, as always?”

He nodded eagerly, the pout vanishing as he threw his arms around your neck again. Together, you began working on a simple dinner, with him passing you ingredients and ‘taste-testing’ bits of veggies when he thought you weren’t looking.

The kitchen was small, but it felt vast and alive with the sound of his laughter. When the food was ready, the two of you sat down to eat at the little table by the window. The meal was simple but hearty, and as you listened to him animatedly describe the latest episode of his favorite cartoon, you couldn’t stop smiling.

It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was your life. Every late shift, every exhausting day, every run-in with the rougher parts of Hell—it was all worth it for this.

Later, after dinner was cleaned up and his small hands had claimed their prize—much to his uncontainable delight—you tucked him into bed. He clutched his favorite plush toy tightly, his eyelids heavy but his grin still bright.

“Love you, Mama,” he whispered sleepily, his voice barely audible as he snuggled into the blankets.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead before pressing a kiss there. “Sweet dreams.”

As you turned off the light and quietly shut the door behind you, you stood for a moment in the silence of your small apartment. Exhausted but content, you let out a long breath and smiled.

This was home. And nothing else mattered.

Tag list: @diffidentphantom

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